Chapter 4: The Order, the Sorting and Strange Alliances
"Without order nothing can exist - without chaos nothing can
evolve"
"Don't be bewildered or surprised when you go through the fiery
trials for this is no strange, unusual thing that is going to happen
to you."

She was in a room with faint lights flickering on her face, putting in her at a sense of ease and contentment. Her companion's face was darkened and lost in the shadows. She only obtained slight glances of his face but nothing too descriptive. Elizabeth felt very comfortable with his presence as she would in an old friend's but her desire to see him clearly overwhelmed her senses. She tried to back up to get a better look at him and the room itself but found to her horror that she could not move back an inch. There seemed to be some sort of barrier or force that prevented her from retreat. Then she noticed the black serpent. It was draped across the man's arm, and he slowly raised his hand to her face. The serpent crept closer to her, and it was in a rage, hissing menacingly. Horror threw her blood into turmoil and again repelled her backwards to no avail. Why is he doing this!? The snake struck at her, biting the place where her shoulder and neck met. She knew what it wanted; if it couldn't poison her externally, it would strike at her life blood, her heart.

Elizabeth woke up that morning with a blinding headache and a pain on her shoulder. Feeling panicked at the sight of the vacant common room, she jumped up and rushed to the portrait of the Fat Lady. For one wild instant, she believed she might still be locked in and that gave her a choking sense of claustrophobia. She really couldn't bear to be in that blood red room for an instant longer.

The Fat Lady was in a highly irate mood. She lectured Elizabeth on etiquette for it seems it was five in the morning. Oh well. Elizabeth decided to explore the corridors; she had on slippers at any rate and wasn't going back to sleep. This place gives me even more nightmares. Hogwarts was truly amazing in the morning light which seeped through the paned glass, displaying the most royal images on the stone. She enjoyed listening to her footfalls and became less stressed as she progressed down the labyrinth. Occasionally suites of armor that also were not pleased with the time of her stroll would clank in her direction. I wish I had taken a shower first before I freaked out. I think there's still dust on me. Elizabeth kept rubbing her arms although there was no dust to be found. She felt as frightened as if a bat's wing had brushed against her forehead in a dark threat. Also, her neck hurt in a mocking intensity. She thought she had felt a new scar her dream wound but that was ridiculous. As she touched her neck, it hurt in indignation. How...?

Most of the doors she tried were locked tight. Her imagination soared at the thought of what was behind them. As immature as she felt, she enjoyed riding the stairs as they flew the air, rearranging themselves. Portraits on the wall muttered, but she was having too much fun to care. She even yelled out her jubilant just to make a point. Her cries were echoed back at her as she held her arms in the air, hair whipping around her face. She played a game of how long she could keep her balance as the staircases whipped around wildly. It took her mind pleasantly off the other things that lurked under the surface.

Elizabeth found that the corridors were going lower and steps journeying downward into stillness greeted her. She yelped as her foot went right threw some sort of booby trap on the staircase just to spite her.

"Bloody..." she hissed in pain as the splintered step in question refused to release her.

She waged a war with the stubborn foe and eventually broke free. The leg of her pajamas (or rather one of her relative's pajamas) was torn and her foot a little worse for wear. She glared as the step repaired itself and returned to its previous, innocent façade. At first, Elizabeth was relieved when she had reached the bottom. But then she noticed the thick, gloom that surrounding her and weighed her down. She was in a dungeon complete with wooden tables, a smell that attacked her vividly, and vials of horrible bits of—things she'd rather not think about. Chains even adorned the ceilings, and there were no windows to speak of. She turned to leave abruptly but for some reason the door she had entered through had vanished. Again her claustrophobia returned with a vengeance as she spun around wildly and spotted a forbidding looking door to her right. She leapt toward it and began to push and pull on the cold metal.

"What are you doing attempting to break into my office? How very foolish of you," a sinister voice filled with disgust rose from behind her.

She made herself turn around with every last bit of resolution and courage she could muster. She didn't want to meet the dungeon master; it certainly wasn't on her things-to-do list. The man who stood before her instantly made her feel small although he was nothing to speak of. He had greasy hair that hung down in rivulets around his somewhat sallow face centered with a hook nose. However, this added to his presence of executioner, and she cringed.

"Are you deaf or extremely moronic? I'd say the latter judging by your expression," he sneered.

His eyes widened as he examined her more closely. His face became darker with anger as recognition flashed in his eyes. Yet, Elizabeth was most definitely sure she had never met this man before in her life, luckily for her.

"Oh, let me guess. Another Potter! That explains your stupidity or do you just think you don't have to answer." His voice became a hiss not un- similar to the jet-black serpent in her nightmare.

Wait just a minute! Elizabeth grew enraged at the insult. Who does he think he is, speaking to me like that? I just got lost. She then (foolishly on recollection) asked him exactly who he was.

"I am your soon-to-be professor of potions, Potter. Your lot always knew how to make an impression—full of arrogance and bad blood. And just in case your mind can't grasp the severity of your situation, I will bring you up to date," he began to talk in a slow, menacing voice as his eyes flashed with hate.

"I caught you trying to break into my office! I know that your golden-boy father stole from me as well! Furthermore, you were wandering the halls looking to make trouble not unlike your dear grandfather. I see that you too have the impression you're untouchable and above the rules. And most of all, Potter, you have the attitude of a trouble maker when you spoke to me with that tone. For all these offenses, especially vandalism, I could get you expelled this instant!" he finished with his eyes wide with a malignant glee and a smile that encompassed his whole face.

Her whole body was about to collapse on itself. I got myself EXPELLED! And I didn't even start the year! She gaped at the vicious man in horror and disbelief. He hates me so much! Such hatred to this extent was unfamiliar to her including that of Westley's. At least, he put up with her for a year or two before he grew hostile. At least, he knew her. This man hates her for being the spawn of her grandfather and father apparently, and she was shocked at how long this loathing had lasted in him. And, of course, she was the one to bring it out in full force by opening her mouth. He looked simply murderous. She started to grow scared as the realization that she was alone with this madman hit her with full force in the stomach.

"Ah, Severus, I see you have met our young Ms. Potter."

Elizabeth un-tensed her limbs as she recognized Dumbledore's voice. I'm saved!

The soon-to-be-madman/murderer straightened in alarm and obvious disappointment. He pointed to Elizabeth with an accusing, outraged finger.

"Albus, she was attempting to break into my office and vandalize it," Snape snarled at Dumbledore who looked at him in exasperation and something similar to pity.

"I'm sure that was not her intentions at all, Severus. She does not know what would be in your office at any rate. Come now, it's been a hard morning for all of us," Dumbledore soothed the irate man. "I do think you startled Ms. Potter a great deal more than she startled you."

Snape and Elizabeth glared at each other in mutual dislike, and Dumbledore could just sigh at the massive display of immaturity before him.

Dumbledore tried a different tactic.

"I'm sure you've notice the resemblance between Elizabeth and her grandmother, Lilly Potter. Isn't it remarkable?"

Snape's face froze up in a strange sort of emotion. Elizabeth was drowned in the tension as he directed his evil eye toward Dumbledore himself as an unspoken message passed between them. Dumbledore realized his error and surrendered on an attempt to repair the damage done.

"Severus, the Order has arrived, and we require your presence at the meeting." The tone in which Dumbledore put it erased any possible misconception that it was a request or invitation.

Snape paled and nodded. He cast a last sharp look over his shoulder at a frazzled Elizabeth to make it clear that what had occurred between them would not be forgotten or by any means, forgiven. The bad feelings and blood that was drawn between them would not be erased any time soon. He swooped out of the room with his cape flowing behind him like an overgrown bat. Elizabeth was left with Dumbledore who turned to inspect her.

"I understand you natural curiosity about the castle. Curiosity is truly a virtue and in most cases, should be indulged. But, I'm afraid you'll have to curb your exploration of the castle for now. And during the school year, you are not to go wandering about at night under any circumstances. Why don't you go back to the Gryffindor common room? Surely, a few more hours of rest would not disagree with you. I think you will find that you'll crave it when the school year begins," Dumbledore finished with a wink.

"I'm not sure I know my way back, sir..." Elizabeth abhorred looking like a little lost child, but she was anxious to get back in order to avoid any more encounters with 'Severus'.

"Ah, I see. I'll accompany you myself."

The walk back was an awkward one, poisoned ahead of time by both spoken and unspoken words.

"How is my uncle, Hermione, and Michael? Are they all right?" she asked. It had been haunting her the time she was awake. The time she wasn't awake was a whole different arena.

Dumbledore spoke gravely, "Mr. Weasley and his young son are recovering nicely along with your uncles who were in the area. Alas, Mrs. Weasley is not as well as we had hoped. You might have known of her due pregnancy. The mediwizards fear consequences shall arise from her exposure to the poison. However, there is also the chance all will be well. Time will tell..."

Elizabeth was struck with horror. Her heart wept for them. She had almost lost them all.

She forced her voice through her closed throat, "Sir, did you know who attacked Diagon Allye? Does the Ministry know?"

Dumbledore let out a ragged sigh in frustration, showing his age in the action.

"They have no idea, no leads. I have my guesses but nothing is certain. That is the reality in this age of shaky peace. Nothing is for certain."

Elizabeth grew introspective. She could not help but notice how clumsy she moved and how her hands grasped each other for comfort. She was relieved at the sight of the enormous pink dress coming around the corner. She almost made it into the common room without any hindrances but...

"Ms. Potter, I had hoped you would mention the events of last night. I feel there was more to it than previously said. I know that yesterday was upsetting...rightly so. However, if you have anything to tell me about what awoke you in the hospital wing, anything at all..." he let his words hang in the air as he looked at her expectantly.

"No...there's nothing at all, sir," she hoped her face reflected her answer.

"Very well, Ms. Potter."

She watched his cloak disappear around the corner, praying she wouldn't deeply regret what had been said and what had not been spoken.

Tonks had come by later, looking extremely tired with dark circles around her eyes and clothes haphazardly thrown on. She put on a happy front though and visited with Elizabeth most of the morning. Elizabeth questioned her thoroughly about the events the day before.

"Who were those people on the brooms? Were they Voldemort's Deatheaters?"

Tonks flinched at the sound of Voldemort and gazed at her in amazement.

"How do you know about—them ?" she questioned.

Elizabeth muttered, "Michael mentioned them. But was that the group that's done this...to my aunt Hermione." Elizabeth's anger had grown from that morning exponentially.

She kept picturing Hermione running through the crowd with her wand drawn, protecting them. She had spent the rest of her morning in the bathroom, hitting the sink with her palm till it stung. But she ceased when she had heard Tonks enter the knock on the dorm room.

Tonks looked at her with sympathy, "Yes. It was what was left of them. By the time we Aurors had gotten there they had mostly fled. I'm—sorry about Hermione. She's strong through; she'll pull through it okay."

Elizabeth grasped that hope and held it close to her.

"What is this Order, anyways, Tonks?" she asked in curiosity.

"Oh! Don't mention that to anyone! Do you understand, Lizzy? It's a secret group of wizards and witches that stood against dark wizards for ages. Absolutely no one must know that the Order of the Phoenix met here. It's vital, Liz!" Tonks had taken a stern tone that Elizabeth had never heard from her.

"Okay! I promise I won't mention it. Cross my heart," Elizabeth said hastily.

Tonks softened and asked her if she would like to have breakfast with her in Hogsmeade.

Elizabeth happily agreed and hurried to dress. Together they had a wonderful breakfast at The Three Broomsticks which was mostly vacant due to the time of the morning.

Blood racing, she waited for the wand light as she pressed herself against the wall. Sandy was supposed to have given the signal for what seemed like ages ago. She hoped she didn't run into problems with Filch or Mrs. Norris. She hoped Michael was okay dealing with the Slytherins and the territorial library books. Although after what he had said to her...For this to go over well, for the Slytherins to fall into the Marauders' trap, Michael had to lure them into the library. She drew in chilly air, green eyes peering cautiously from behind Uric the Oddball.

It's too quiet. The torches dancing along the walls were bringing to much shadow for her comfort. Sighing, she fiddled with her cloak, thinking about the events of the last few days. Actually, this is the first time she had quiet time to think. It felt like her head was growing to full. But the Slytherins had gone too far, and that's why she was here, hiding behind a statue at midnight. At least, she thought it was midnight. She had such a bad feeling. She saw...him today, usually that a sign of some disaster approaching on swift wings. Her eyes were getting blurry. This all started with that evil git! I have nothing in common with those filthy Slytherins. That hat can go eat itself.

But the reason she was...bothered had nothing to do with Malfoys or Snakes. The words floated to her again. "Everyone around Potters die."

Elizabeth Potter had never imagined she would dislike someone more that she disliked Queenie McKnight. That changed drastically on the train ride to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had almost not let her ride the train. To be fair, it seemed rather silly when she was already at Hogwarts.

She had risen that morning to look decent for her new classmates. She was dizzy with excitement and kept glancing at the mirror, imagining all the interesting people she would meet. A knock on the door broke her out of her reverie, and she was shocked to see her Uncle Fred beaming in the doorway with his fiery red hair that could give the room a run for its money.

"Good, you're ready! I thought I would have to drag you out of bed."

"Ready...for school?" she hazarded a guess. She didn't expect to see her family for awhile like Tonks had firmly stated.

"Well, yeah! We've got to do this right, though! You, my friend, are getting on that train," he crossed his arms in triumph.

Elizabeth almost started dancing around the room.

"Are you sure? Dumbledore said that I didn't need to go on the train."

"Initially, he said that. But, the Weasley charm is a powerful tool, Liz. Use it well. He had to agree when I had a wizard-to-wizard chat with him!" Her uncle smiled but the light showed the circles under his eyes. She wanted to ask about Hermione but the possible answer bit off the question before it could leave her mouth.

Uncle Fred fished something silvery out of the pockets of his seemingly endless cloak.

"Here's something for your birthday. With all that's happened... better late than never, right! I spent ages digging through your dad's old school trunk. I know he'd want you to have it. He inherited it from his father who inherited it from his father who—well, you get the idea!"

Elizabeth gasped at the sight of the glimmering cloak. It was paper-light and translucent. She fastened it around her and...

Once on the train, Elizabeth looked around anxiously, quickly popping her head in and out of the numerous compartments that lined the aisle. Laughter bubbled out the compartment doors, and she swore that she heard Michael's voice from somewhere.

She found Michael in the farthest compartment with four apparently decent other people. A boy with a round face marked with large, blue eyes and dressed in an overgrown striped shirt didn't look up as she entered. In fact, he had quickly turned towards the window. She was about to say something to Sandy and Josephine, but someone pushed her from behind in the small of her back, shoving her forwards.

A pale girl around her age had abruptly barged into the compartment, hair flying around her face like a white halo. She could have been mistaken for an angel or simply an extreme form of magic personified if it wasn't for her mouth that held traces of cruelty. Her grey eyes narrowed, and her nose twitched as through invaded by a horrid stench. She had the air of a judge and that's exactly what she was doing, judging them.

Nevertheless, Sandy gave her most winning smile, anxious to avoid social execution.

"Hi. I'm Sandy Finnigan. And you are?"

The girl gave an arrogant smirk, "My name is Lilith Malfoy."

Michael started when he heard the name and spun around to face his predetermined foe.

Lilith noted his sudden motion and almost burst out laughing when she realized who he was.

"Oh! Are you the half-breed then? I can tell by the vacant expression and buckteeth! Which did you inherit from your dirty mother?"

The compartment went into a stunned silence, but before Michael could exact revenge, the door swung open again.

The second intruder was tall, and he almost hit his head on the compartment ceiling as he entered with his sister. He sized the group of first years up with the experience all his Slytherin years had bestowed on him. He was arrogance personified and had the uncanny ability to make one feel like an unidentifiable spot on the rug. His silver eyes threw darts that struck them hard.

Her cousin was not use to this experience although unfortunately Elizabeth was fairly familiar with the sting of snobbishness herself.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Matthew voice faltered, and he grimaced as it echoed back at him.

"We heard the Potter girl was in this compartment."

Elizabeth really hoped he wasn't using the royal we, though she wouldn't put it past him. The smug girl on his left must be his sister. She gazed firmly at him, answering his challenge. Bring it on! He is outnumbered and only has his tart of a sister.

Lilith grinned, "That's her, Pyrrhus...the leprechaun."

You...She hoped this whole leprechaun thing wouldn't become a running joke.

Michael seized his opportunity. "Hah, what kind of name is Pyrrhus?" he struck back, laughing.

"It's better than that mugglified name you have, half-blood. By the way, how's your dear mother doing? Did she learn her place in our world, in the dirt? They always have to learn the hard way."

Michael grew red and started to stutter. The terrible thing was he seemed not to be able to gain his tongue. The horror that he had been running from in his mind had been thrust in his face.

Elizabeth leapt up, enraged.

"Like your family's anything to speak of?! You're just a bunch of murderous cowards hiding behind masks. What does blood matter when the "pure-blooded" are a bunch of mindless animals?!"

Pyrrhus hissed, "You'd best mark my name."

"That's exactly what I'll do for the rest of my life! Go around remembering your name!"

Pyrrhus started and then smiled at her, the kind of smile that one gives when they know something special.

"Heh, you've got quite a mouth for an orphan. But that won't last long with the curse of your tainted blood. You're worse off than Weasel there."

Excuse me?!

"You don't know? I see...they haven't told you."

Told me what?

"I guess they don't need to. Look at your family's history, Potter. You lot do seem to die out."

Disgusted, Sandy hissed at him, "How dare you?! Get out !" Then, she stood shoulder to shoulder with Elizabeth.

Pyrrhus curled his lip, "I wouldn't make a habit out of getting too close to Potter, Finnigan. Before they go, those around them go first. Don't they, Weasel? And don't worry about looking the curse in your family, Potter. It won't be in any book. I dare say, it'll come to you soon enough."

Then he blew out of the room with his sister in his shadow. Sandy slammed the door shut, muttering under her breath. Michael gripped the seat with both hands with his hands. His hair covered his face. Josephine looked troubled and didn't talk the rest of the way. The silent boy had never moved his face from the window, his body rigid. He didn't speak either. No one did.

Cursed...

It was awkward to walk down the rows of tables as everyone turned to study you. The overwhelming room filled with a sea of faces was cut off as the hat slid tightly over her eyes. The must invaded her nose, and stifling a sneeze, she waited for something to happen. Something crept into her mind, and a voice echoed from somewhere burrowed within.

"Another Potter, eh! I was looking for a challenge. It's so boring when the mind is easily read."

Her hands tightened around the stood, and she felt distinctly queasy. She was approaching the day of her judgment and was definitely not ready for the encounter.

"Hmmm....I see courage and determination. You're anxious to prove yourself. My, my, with what desire you burn for success! And loads of intelligence! My girl, you have a natural flare for magic! Oh, this will take awhile," the voice was excited by the prospect.

Please hurry! Elizabeth did not what to have the longest sorting in the history of Hogwarts.

"Heh—that marks out Hufflepuff. I'm afraid I can't hurry. I sense something within you. I feel as if...call me musty...I have seen your type before. Ms. Potter, your life will be marked by choices. It is my duty to place you in a house where you will be taught survival. You have qualities that can easily be applied to any house but I am leaning towards the notable house of Slyth..."

Wait! Please not Slytherin! She pictured Pyrrhus's stinging, glinting eyes and her family's crestfallen faces.

My whole family is in Gryffindor, my father—

"Yes, your father. I remember him well. I still stick with what I said before... he should have been in Slytherin. And I will tell you why. I saw bravery and kindness in him. I also saw ambition. I saw years of...hurt. I saw his future as a warrior. But in the war that he was destined for, honor does not exist. I wanted him to see through the eyes of those he had to fight. He suppressed his more Slytherin aspects of cunning and manipulation. He hated that he possessed such qualities. He desired ideals. There was of course nothing wrong with him for yearning for ideals. But he lost a side of himself that held perception and foresight. If one is unbalanced, the scale will tilt and fall. You must accept yourself as you are and not change for the sake of others, Ms. Potter."

PLEASE! I want to be in Gryffindor. You said I had choices. That's my choice!

The hat didn't respond for awhile. She felt like her head was going to explode.

"Very well. I will allow you to choose your path. Do not be surprised when you find that you are worlds different from your Gryffindor companions. Do not be surprised when you find your self seeking other avenues. You can not sake that side of yourself. If you nourish it, it will grow to be a fine tool. If you smoother it, it will eventually consume you. Remember that you will always have a tie, a bond to Slytherin. But I will sort you into...GRYFFINDOR!" the hat yelled out this last bit to her relief, and she resisted the urge to fling the ragged terror to the ground.

The Gryffindor table whistled and cheered as she approached them, still bogged down by the hat's words. Am I doomed from the start?

She caught sight of the nearly headless ghost at the head of the table and maneuvered to avoid him.

She sat down by Sandy and Michael (thankful further down the table) who was engaged in conversation with Daniel Thomas.

Elizabeth turned to find that the person besides her who happened to be the silent blond-headed boy from the train. "Isn't it exciting we're in the same house? Sorry, but I didn't catch your name on the train."

He glanced sideways, trying to decide whether to answer her or not. She just caught the word Longbottom before he turned his back.

Whoa, what's his problem?

Looking up at the gloomy ceiling, she hoped the sorting hat didn't have the ability to see the future as it had claimed.

It was two weeks later that the war between Gryffindor and Slytherin began. Of course, it was a surprise that the tension between the two houses didn't spark much earlier.

Classes had been absolutely unbelievable, in a good way. She had already learned so much and her teachers, the only adult figures she had known after Westley, seemed to genuinely like her.

In Transfiguration, she was the first to turn her flame into a needle. Really, her flame didn't just look like a needle, it was a needle. Elizabeth proved this to herself when she reached out to touch it to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Owww! She yelped and stuck her wounded finger in her mouth, causing a wave of faces to turn towards her. She grinned awkwardly.

McGonagall stalked to Elizabeth's desk, most likely to tell her off. Elizabeth knew from first glance that McGonagall was not a teacher to be taken lightly. Well, not really. At her first glance, McGonagall had been a cat at the time. Then she turned back into herself. Elizabeth preferred her as a cat. Her plan had been to be invisible in the back row behind her stack of books, but she just ruined that dream for herself.

"Ms. Potter, what exactly have you been doing back here while the rest of your classmates have been trying to pass my class?"

"Um...I kind of—stuck myself with my needle. I'm sorry, Professor." That sounded so stupid!

"Excuse me?!"

"The needle—"

McGonagall snatched the needle off the desk and examined it sternly though her horned glasses as though trying to blame the needle itself for disturbing her class.

"Ms. Potter, do you mean to tell me that you produced a needle on your first try?"

Elizabeth glanced around at her classmates who stared at her open-mouthed. She also noted their flames were still flames. Oh.

"Yes, Professor. I guess I got lucky?" she hazarded a guess that this sentence might appease the teacher. McGonagall continued to eye her suspiciously.

"Would you mind doing it again then, Ms. Potter, for the class?"

Elizabeth was scared for a moment she wouldn't be able to transfigure the flame again under all the scrutiny. Nevertheless, it was easy for her to do so. All she had to do was focus that sensation she had felt that night she flew the bed into the wand in her hand. Then with the proper motions, she had a needle. She silently thanked whoever might be listening to her mental prayers.

The class had sat in a stunned silence. Then McGonagall gave her a smile!

"Well done, Ms. Potter. Class, you have a new standard set. I would continue if I were you."

The same pattern had occurred in the rest of her classes. Needless, to say, Professor Snape was not pleased at all. He was the exception to the charmed relationship she had with the other teachers. He had questioned her continuously the very second she had stepped into his classroom. Although she stammered and was extremely nervous about the attention she was receiving, she wasn't about to let answer incorrectly. She had read every inch of her Potions book the weekend before school started. It was the principle of the battle they were waging. She still lost.

Her classmates had started to move around near the end of the class. Snape was above irked at this point.

"Sit down at once!" he snapped out.

There was a flurry of motion as everyone dove for their seats. Then Snape had turned his dark (demented?) gaze on Elizabeth. Her stomach clenched. She was emotionally taxed and prepared to surrender now.

"Ms. Potter, I've figured you out. You are a little Know-It-All teacher's pet seeking attention! Although this may get you though other classes, it won't you get you through this one! You probably had seen my class lesson plan when I caught you sneaking around in this room at the beginning of the year. And don't think for one minute, I will favor you like my other colleagues because of your father's heroic status. You might want to rethink your place here in my class."

A group of kids started to laugh behind her. She was so numb with horror that she didn't care.

"You are dismissed."

She tried to gather her books with dignity and walk calmly out of the dungeon. She saw Sandy start to approach her, but she raced out, already blinded by the tears gathering in her eyes. I can't believe I'm crying! How dare he call me a sneak! Does he even have a lesson plan! He's the one asking me all those stupid questions—

She made it to a girl's lavatory. The door slam almost deafened her. She sought out a stall and began to have a good cry. Hogwarts had changed in her eyes. Even though most of the teachers were nice, her peers were less amiable. Most stared at her when she walked down the hall, whispering to their friends. The Slytherins were just down-right hostile; one fifth year even tried to trip her down the stairs. Her Gryffindor mates had been okay but distant like Frank Longbottom. Her only true friends were Sandy, Josephine, and Michael. But Michael had been going through so much...

That led to another bout of tears. Her grandmother had sent her a continuous stream of letters about school, home, and plans for visits. Yet, every time she had written about Hermione's health, the response had been vague. Michael told her himself the second day of school.

Michael sat in the darken Common Room, bathed in the light from the hearth. He didn't look up. In his clenched hand was a letter. From his father, mother, who knows?

She had wanted to talk about his mum with him but didn't know how to start. It was like dancing on glass, each step treacherous and full of hidden dangers.

Elizabeth had been asleep but a chill woke her to the pitch black room. One of her roommates had extinguished the candle by her bed. Trying to calm down, she had reached blindly for her wand and said a simple illuminating charm. Still breathing fast, she crept downstairs to walk it off, missing Michael entirely. She jumped a foot in the air when he spoke suddenly.

"They won't get away with it."

Elizabeth jumped a foot of the ground and gaped for a few seconds. She finally processed it through.

"Who?"

"The Death Eaters. I swear I'll be the best Auror ever. I'll master every Defense Spell there is. Then I won't be so...useless."

She sat down across from him.

"How's your mum?" She dreaded the answer.

"She's fine but...the baby—she was a girl, you know."

No. Please No!

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. The chill was worse, coming from the inside. I understand the feeling he has about being helpless in the face of this. I had been there, too. I had done nothing.

"I can't think right now. But I Know I will stop this from ever happening again to anyone. They won't get away with it," he brought his clenched fist up to his forehead.

She reached out to take his hand, but he snatched it away.

"No! Don't try to help me. Don't take up for me! I can do it myself!" he glared balefully at her, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"I know that! I was just— trying."

"Well, stop!"

He got up to leave, but she managed to get a hold of his sleeve. Michael looked at her numbly, not angry now, just numb.

"We'll do it together. Let's master Defense together. Let's—get through this together...as a family."

It isn't fair. Elizabeth glared at the stall door with venom through her tears. So far, everything had been chaotic. The chatter of girls her own age seemed so trivial after that night. Uncle Ron had come for Michael the very next day to visit his mother at St. Mungo's. His eyes were glazed over, and he carried a veil of sadness over him. Like Michael, he carried the burden of blame in his own mind. Elizabeth wanted to go with them, but Dumbledore had insisted for her to stay at Hogwarts, an act Elizabeth still hadn't forgiven him for.

Lately, the library became her place of residence...again. The last bit of the summer she had used to study ahead for all her classes. When she had nothing left to prepare for, she attacked the shelves, searching for something to take her mind off things. She cherished Hogwarts: A History, adored Uric the Oddball and Wendelin the Weird. She loved the tales of Morgan La Fay and the extreme magic she wielded that made her both feared and loved by her foes. She especially loved the Founder's tales of Hogwarts.

She shivered. It was strange she returned to the library after what she had discovered and...had taken.

Biting her lip, she let herself remember... Not Hogwarts: A History.

A loose panel under the shelf about Salazar Slytherin caught her eye. Although she ignored it at first, it kept drawing her back. Madam Pince, the librarian, was near the front, but for some reason, she went to double check her position. This had the air of a secret and probably for a good reason. She lifted the wood as gently as she could with splinters delving into her hand. Gritting her teeth, she succeeded in moving her small hand in the darkness to retrieve something. She hissed in alarm as she felt something...dry and scaly.

What?! A snake! Glaring into the slot, she couldn't detect anything move or hear anything hiss.

Madam Pince sneezed. Time was fragile. She darted her hand forward again and drew out a book lined with what looked like snake skin. That didn't bother her. What bothered her was that on the cover of the book...was that terrible image that had burned the sky that day of the attack on Diagon Alley. In red...The Thorn. It in turn burned into her eyes. The book slipped through her sweaty hands and hit the floor with a thud. Madam Pince's heels clicked on the stone, echoing all around. She seized the book and shoved it into her bag that was thankfully next to her.

In retrospect, it was impulse that made her take that book, made her hastily replace the panel. She had raced out of the library like a maniac, heading straight for Gryffindor Tower. There, she at first threw the book in the trunk. She found that this place didn't sake her panic. She tore a place between the wood and the fabric, placing the book in there. Then, she placed the Diverting Charm on it where anyone who looked in her trunk (even after she had locked it) would feel their eyes slide away from that spot. It is worked with the Muggles at least. She covered it with all her books and new clothes. After, she forced it from her mind and made sure not to return to the library anytime soon.

I'm not a thief! At least she never had been before. Never in her life had she ever taken anything that wasn't hers. That book made her act strangely, not in control of herself. It had burned her hand.

Elizabeth gave a start, gripping the phoenix around her neck. She didn't remember that but it had happened. That doesn't make sense. She knew it though. Just like she knew written in the middle of the Thorn were the words homo homini lupus est. Elizabeth pried numb fingers from the chain around her neck and examined her left palm. The shape, whatever it was, was turning from a white outline to a darker red.

She felt sick. The lavatory was so cold. Funny. Now she felt like she wasn't alone, like a presence was in the girl's restroom with her. Was it that guy with the red eyes? It could be. Elizabeth made herself start to move but then... a face appeared through the door!

"Aaahhhhhh!!" she fell back shielding her face in defense. Please help!

"Ahhhhhh!!!!" the ghostly face retreated.

Whoa! Elizabeth scooted against the wall, curling herself in a ball. Then she heard ragged wailing.

A scream echoed all around her, "Why does no one ever like me?! They're so meeeaaannn! I'm so hideous no one can stand to even be around me!!!!! I could just die and no one would care!!!! OH!!!! TOO LATE!!!"

Elizabeth grasped her ears as the shriek went impossibly high-pitched to the point where she though her ears would fall off or glass would break. Then she felt drops of water on her head. In the stall next to her, a huge wave of blue splashed on the floor with a smack. If that wasn't enough, the toilet began to flush itself!

I'm getting out of here!! Elizabeth darted out the door, followed by an even louder shriek and the slamming of ragged doors. As she fled for her life, Elizabeth swore she would never enter the girl's lavatory on the second floor as long as she was in her right mind.

Michael returned that weekend brooding and depressed. He walked around in a stupor. To her shame, Elizabeth was afraid to approach him. She wanted to give him space. Only Daniel Thomas disappeared off with him. Elizabeth noticed Daniel didn't talk much...he was just there.

Then Sunday night, Michael accosted her about studying up for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He didn't miss anything. Professor Lupin had been absent for the first week of school, making the course itself all the more allusive and desirable. Nevertheless, Michael sat in the Common Room, pouring over all her books she had collected from the library about curses and proper defense.

Michael and Elizabeth left with squared shoulders to their first class of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Both were determined to be the best in the class. However, it was going to be like going into a war zone with mines underneath the soil.

Half of the Gryffindors would take DADA with the Slytherins. The irony of the situation was not lost on her, the Defense (Lions) Against the Dark Arts (Snakes). Dumbledore must be getting old or lost in idealism. Neither option was particularly good.

They put up a façade of aloofness with all the whispers that had surrounded them at breakfast. Mostly her housemates had approached them with sympathetic words. But not all the whispers had sympathetic tones around her. Instead, she found that a lot of the whispers had to do with her father. She caught unsettling words and undercurrents she couldn't decipher.

That very morning, as she was in the side room of the dormitory she shared with Sandy, Josephine, and two other girls, Julia and Abigail, she heard them talking about...how her father had had some kind of connection to You- Know-You.

Elizabeth had given a start when she heard this whispered over the running water of the sink. She shouldn't have heard it at all. But it was like she was meant to. This was definitely not the intention of her dorm mates of course. She gazed at herself blindly in the mirror. My dad...connection with...She had crept toward the door to hear Sandy whispering.

"Yeah, my dad had been a dorm mate with Harry Potter. He said that Potter had a kind of...mental link with You-Know-Who. It was really creepy. Years later, when Potter had finally defeated...him, using the link they had actually, strange things happened. He wouldn't tell me what though. He did tell me there had been a prophecy that Potter himself told them about. But, after the Potters were attacked, all the things went away and...well, my mum made me charm the dishes before he could finish," she sighed in frustration.

Josephine piped up, "Elizabeth seems alright though."

Sandy interrupted again, "I think so too! But, a couple of days later, I heard my parents talking downstairs after they thought my sister and I had gone to sleep. My dad said that certain dark magic things have been happening across the country. Like those things that happened back then. He said the...um...re--resurgence of dark magic came when, well, Elizabeth came back to the Wizarding World. Although he did say he didn't know if she directly connected. It might be a coincidence."

Abigail Bones laughed, "That's some coincidence if you ask me! I have a relative that's on the Council at the Ministry of Magic, and she said that the Minister is really freaked out about Elizabeth being allowed back. Didn't you notice that weird mark on her arm? Now that's creepy!"

She sighed, and then continued in a contemplative tone.

"But, honestly, my great-aunt doesn't agree with the Minister's policies or his choice of advisers. Do you know that he let a Malfoy into the Council after that family was proven to be involved with all sorts of dark magic even necromancy?! This Malfoy was supposed to help in the war so. My mum said to be open-minded about Elizabeth when I owled her that I was rooming with her. My mum knew Harry Potter too. But she also said to use good judgment. You're right that she seems nice, but she does keep to herself."

Julia spoke softly, "You know, things have been getting worse out of school. Raids have been happening more often lately; they hit even bigger towns. My brother's gotten articles from the Daily Prophet sent from home. They don't think the Deatheaters are acting alone in all the attacks now. There's a rumor that something big is going to happen. The Aurors caught a lot of dark wizards like necromancers and dark diviners from all over the world coming into the Ireland and Britain. The Ministry still doesn't know what's going on...and a few Dementors have disappeared from Azkaban."

Elizabeth had decided to turn off the water and after arranging her face into a seemingly content manner, she walked into the room as if nothing had been heard. The girls had smiled warmly for the most part, but Abigail and Sandy went on to breakfast. Julia followed quickly. Only Josephine had stayed behind. Elizabeth made a mental note to go to the library as soon as she could to check up on those things that had happened. She would also have to remember to get a nightgown with long sleeves.

The class had settled into a chat when Professor Lupin turned up later. The Slytherins sat near the back while the Gryffindors sat up front. She felt the burn of a silver gaze upon her back and didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She had seen him when she walked in. Michael turned to glare, his eyes showing the change that had taken place in him.

"Those evil gits...can't wait to practice some defense spells on them," he said darkly.

Elizabeth was near the door when Professor Lupin walked in and saw terrible dark shadows under his eyes. He looks sick. He must know about what happened...

The class came to order upon his appearance and waited.

Lupin smiled at them all, "I apologize for keeping you waiting. I'm Professor Lupin."

A low howl arose from the back, but he pretended not to notice and continued to talk through the snickers.

"Today I traditionally outline the course for you. You know we will be doing basic spells for you first years. And of course, I expect you to be open-minded, put in hard work, and I will do my best to teach you. But today I want to you think about the meaning of this class without the restrictions of your grades or former perceptions in mind."

His eyes flickered toward the back for an instant.

"Take out a piece of paper. No, Mr. Wood, you won't need you books. Just paper and a quill. I'm going to write some words on the board, and I want you to write out the meaning of each according to your perspective. Then we'll open a discussion."

He turned towards the board and started writing. Dark Arts. White Magic. Beliefs. Human Nature. Morality. Words.

After fifteen minutes of scratching quills, he cleared his throat, and everyone looked up at him.

"Ms. Finnigan, what did you write down for the Dark Arts?"

Sandy grinned, "Evil magic that causes harm or wrongs innocent people." Someone coughed near the back, covering a laugh.

"Yes, that would be the most common idea of it. But in order to complete your answer, you would have to say what classifies as evil or good. So...what do you think is evil?"

Sandy blushed, "Um, something with malicious intent."

"But what is malicious intent? How clear is maliciousness to those doing the action? Do they view it as malicious?"

"Well, they should!" Again, there was movement in the back row.

"Mr. Malfoy, what did you write down?"

Michael gripped his quill tighter.

"Nothing, sir."

Professor Lupin creased his brow. "Surely you have some opinion on it?"

"Why would I think on Dark Magic, sir?" Elizabeth heard the laughter behind his voice.

"Then I have to question your presence in this class, Mr. Malfoy. If you're too fragile to think, you may leave."

A cold voice answered back, "I'll sleep on it."

"Ms. Potter, I hope you had more ease thinking than Mr. Malfoy here. What did you write down?"

Elizabeth had hoped he wouldn't call on her. She just wanted to learn defense spells.

"Um, actually, I questioned what makes magic dark?"

Michael looked at her like she had two heads. Lupin arched an eyebrow.

"I mean—I thought that any magic used to extremes to harm another could be called dark. But wouldn't that point more to the person using magic and the purpose of their usage? "

Lupin studied her. "Yes, that's true. But some magic can't be used without doing harm. That's what we nominally call dark magic. No one should be studying it at all."

Was that a flicker of light? No. It was a trick of her buzzing mind. Her eyes were getting heavy. She sunk down behind the statue, hoping for a signal from her fellow Marauders. She twirled a strand of red between her fingers in a fit of anxiety.

The name had been Michael's idea. His dad had told him stories about a group of students who went to Hogwarts once, dedicated to the pursuit of mischief. However, this group was dedicated to guerilla warfare.

Sandy, Daniel, Michael, and Elizabeth had discussed their plan full out. Everything had to be perfect. The Slytherins couldn't get away with what happened.

Elizabeth knew why her friend was shaking and red-faced. Josephine had confided in her that she was terribly afraid of heights.

"My father wanted me to fly so badly. He always said my mum could have been born with wings. She was a pure-blood. That's why she could—it's when I get up there. I start shaking so badly, and I can't breathe."

Later on, she had said, "Why do we have to have that stupid class anyhow? And the Slytherins are going to laugh at me. That Malfoy girl's going to laugh at me."

Now, Josephine couldn't get an inch of the ground on her broom. Her prediction came true. The Slytherins were laughing at her. Some of the Gryffindors were laughing as well, watching her struggle frantically not to fall off.

Madam Hooch told her to get of her broom and wait to go into the air last to save time. Horrible suggestion really!

Elizabeth was disappointed in herself. Flying felt so awkward, and she could relate with Josephine. Her breathes can sharp and rapid. She kept climbing upwards though. She couldn't give up. Not after Michael told her that her father was the youngest seeker in a century. What's wrong with me? I flew a bed for cripes sake! But she had almost died as well.

So many things could go awry up here. If you fall...Lucina, an accessory from the Slytherin house who was permanently attached to Lilith, zoomed by her, smirking. Elizabeth had to cling wildly to the broom when Lucina had bumped her.

Over her shoulder, she called to Elizabeth, "Is that the best you can do? Not like dear daddy, are you? Imagine what he'll say. Oh, sorry, he's dead, isn't he? I forgot."

Elizabeth stared after her, gripping the broom so tight she thought it would snap. She felt like chasing after Lucina and perhaps...No. I won't let them make me be like them! The world was spinning, and she was painfully aware of the emptiness besides her and the fragile broom supporting her.

Madam Hooch grabbed her arm.

"Potter, you go ahead and land."

Elizabeth thought she saw disappoint flash in her eyes.

Now and then, her peers lowered themselves to the tedious and mortality- filled earth, tired off an exertion that she was foreign to. Then, Michael would zoom by with Daniel. He was focused on something else. He couldn't think about the things wrapped up in his mind. He had to outrun them. Elizabeth floated slowly to the ground, looking at them with some envy.

Daniel and Michael raced by her again. Really, they should not have severed themselves from the matters on the ground completely. Then, they would have seen Lilith sliding up to Josephine, patting her back in dramatic sympathy, and stalking away.

Hooch blew her whistle. They were on the ground once more. Everyone had managed to fly except for Josephine. Hooch dismissed the class. Most of the Gryffindors raced for the Great Hall for a well-needed lunch.

Daniel, Michael, and Elizabeth remained. Only a few Slytherins left. Elizabeth assumed they wanted to watch Josephine grow red-faced and flustered. If only, she had known.

Josephine gritted her teeth, determined to be able to fly. Just a little bit. Just a little like her mother.

She flew straight up with a gasp. Then she smiled in triumph and relief. Elizabeth had cheered. Michael and Daniel had hollered. Hooch jumped on her broom, realizing before them, before Josephine, that something was amiss. But she was so far away. She was across the lake where some students had accidentally landed. Or not so accidentally! The broom carried Josephine so high that she seemed to disappear into the sun.

Josephine jerked the broom madly, trying to gain control in vain. What was wrong?!

The Slytherins were grinning like mad-hatters at the foreknowledge, the success, and the image of the little girl in the sun. Others looked on with some disgust but more indifference, striving towards acceptance in their House.

Lilith stood out among them, her white hair flying around her head. She could have been an angel if it wasn't for the look in her eyes that revealed her to be the devil. The look of pride and self-righteousness without question tinged with pure malice. She had no question of her actions, driven by a belief that was pounded in her. Everything around her spoke of her birthright. The unspoken message among the mob...serves the half- blood right.

Elizabeth clasped Michael's trembling hand. Daniel turned away, unable to bear the sight of Josephine being hurled about like a rag-doll. Hooch shot desperately through the air, and the broom shot faster. Josephine clung by her fingertips as the thing darted past the older woman. The towers became an obstacle course. The cursed wood had a mind of its own; it played a game of how close it could get to the brick, to the foreboding jutting tip of rusted iron before swerving at the last second. Then the inevitable happened.

Josephine flew off the broom, clutching at the indifferent air, robes flapping around her like broken wings. Madam Hooch was still too far away.

NO!

Before she had become aware of the air whistling past her and the absence of Michael's hand, she had passed the blurred tower. Almost there! The broom was too slow. But that can't be. No matter how fast she willed it to go, it seemed as if it was loaded down with cold lead.

Josephine's arm filled her vision. She had to get there. She saw her hand reach out in a blur.

Missed her hands! NO!

Elizabeth chased after the flailing figure. She prayed. Josephine's robes latched on to her hand. She turned the broom frantically upwards, biting her tongue so hard that a metallic taste filled her mouth. Then she felt the presence of the broom disappear and her hands were empty.

Madam Pomfrey had made Daniel and Michael leave after an hour or so. Elizabeth suffered a broken arm, broken ankle, and some broken ribs. Josephine suffered a broken wrist and sprained ankle.

She was still crying. But she would be alright. Her established fear of heights she never would shake. Her near-brush with death that would haunt her nights for years to come. She would be alright. All was well.

Ironically, Josephine left the hospital ward earlier than her. It seems she broke Josephine's fall when somehow she had ended up underneath her. Elizabeth felt the stabs of Skelo-Grow throughout the day and into the next night. She found herself thinking about Lilith Malfoy. That girl...that soulless, black-hearted...

Elizabeth spent a restless night in the uncomfortable but familiar bed. It was pure luck that she was so close to the ground when she fell. She had no finesse at flight like she previously had believed.

Instead, every time she closed her eyes, she was falling towards the busy streets, bed sheets clasped in her hand. Horns would be blaring. She was limp like a rag doll, her mind blank. She followed the progress of the spinning bed above her as it started to catch up, threatening to crush her when she lands. But no matter, it wouldn't matter if a bed lands on her when she hits the ground.

Every time she woke up, it was in the dark. Madam Pomfrey forgot to light the candles.

Elizabeth sat there in silence in front of the fire, watching the shadows dance on her three friends faces and listening to the twelfth strike of the clock. It's twelve? She had stared at the flames for what seemed like a second. It was twelve o'clock.

Michael stopped his pacing as the chime ended. The quiet waited for him to speak.

"They can't get away with this. Those Slytherins could have killed you both!"

The sound of her voice filled her ears.

"It was Lilith Malfoy, Michael."

Daniel lounged on the floor, his head in his arms. Staring at the ceiling, he said doubtfully, "What can we do? You know that that spell was way too advanced for first years. Pyro must have given them a hand. Heck, maybe it wasn't him. Any one from the third-years up would have been happy to see Josephine a spot on the ground. That's what we're dealing with here."

Sandy darted up with a response, "No one can prove that those gits did anything!"

Fight fire with fire. Wasn't that what life at an orphanage had pounded into her? An eye for an eye.

Her eyes lit up. "The same thing applies to us! Let's say strange things started to happen to the Slytherins. How could they pinpoint us?"

Daniel replied in a cynical voice, "Of course, they'd know it was the Gryffindors. No one else has the guts or the reason to mess with them."

"Yeah, but how would they know it was us? You, me, Sandy, and Michael!"

Michael smiled strangely, remembering the stories of his childhood, "My dad told me about this group of guys. There were four of them. They were the greatest. The Marauders played the best pranks and never got caught. They showed those snakes!"

Daniel boosted himself off the ground, "How about a next generation of Marauders!"

The two boys gave each other high-fives. "Those Slytherins better watch out! The Marauders are back with a vengeance!"

Sandy looked thoughtful, "As long as we don't hurt anyone, I'm all for it. There has to be a limit. I don't want to become a git to beat a git!"

Elizabeth said slyly, "I have just the thing for pranking. The ultimate weapon!"

It was actually Elizabeth who hatched the plan with Michael's revisions. She surprised herself. Her thoughts had quickly adapted to mischief. Images popped into her head one after another. She was on fire.

It was dawn when they finally set off towards their own dorms to sleep. Well, Elizabeth didn't. She watched the sunrise creep into the room, turning the curtains rose-colored. You'll always have a tie, a bond to Slytherin.

The plan was simple and quite destructive. Of course, they wouldn't cross the line. Elizabeth's experience in the library had been the key. Those books were like animals. The leather pages would be perfectly docile until a fatal drop of ink grazed them. Then, it was brutal. The second key coming into play was Michael. This was personal to him. He challenged Pyrrhus Malfoy to a duel the day after their plotting. Malfoy didn't back down either. But no doubt, he would be bringing some of his gang along, Elizabeth knew the Slytherins were sneaky, so she begged Peeves (the most lively looking ghost to her... so she kept her cool) to cause utter chaos in the side of the castle furthest away from the local of the library so Filch wouldn't be lurking even . Madam Pince had a certain type of potion she put on the books to make them highly capable of flight. Also she used different potions to attract the books to the proper shelf. Getting the potion was difficult. Daniel volunteered to cause a ruckus in the library. When Madam Pince went to admonish and deal out some serious punishment, Elizabeth snatched the potion from her desk...in her father's invisibility cloak. Her favorite potion had been the one for the Invisible Books of Invisibility. While Michael lures the Slytherins into place with his showdown near the library, Elizabeth would sneak up and douse the Slytherins with the potion. Then, the rest would be magical.

Those classes before the big plan that night were tough to stay focused in. Elizabeth was sorry because it was her first class with Hagrid. Care of Magical Creatures had been postponed. Although she often tried sneaking out of the castle later in the evenings to see what was going on with Hagrid, the main doors had been locked tight. That was strange in itself. At the beginning of the summer, the main doors remained unbarred and welcoming. It was after her encounter in the hospital wing with that shade and Dumbledore's warning that the doors became locked-tight.

The day was chilly as the Gryffindors and Slytherins journeyed towards Hagrid's cabin. Elizabeth was glad her grandmother had owled her a Gryffindor scarf.

The Slytherin group murmured behind her.

"I heard he was a giant, one of those from the mountains. What kind of school is this when they allow that kind of trash to teach? We'll be luck if we get out alive!"

"No, he's a half-giant and a drunken oaf. He's not dangerous...well, if it dangerous to be around total stupidity. It's Dumbledore who's the menace, allowing all sorts of riffraff in Hogwarts. My father says he should be fired and sent to St. Mungo's to be examined. Who would know he's a pureblood by the way he acts?"

"Dumbledore's getting old. Hopefully he'll die soon, make the world a better place."

At this last comment, Michael almost turned around to deck somebody. Thankfully, Hagrid came outside to greet them, waving.

"Oh gods! Look at that oaf," Lilith hissed loudly.

"Allo, 'irst years. 'Ve got somethin' special for the 'irst class."

He waited for the snickering to pass.

"Come 'his way!" Hagrid led them around his cabin to the back where there were crates.

Elizabeth felt a surge of excitement. Hagrid had mentioned something about Griffins.

"Go 'n. Pick a crate!" She approached the crate to find that inside it was... a worm.

A guy next to her pretended to gag...or maybe he wasn't pretending, she wasn't sure.

"'here's lettuce next to yer crate. All yeh 'ave to do is feed 'em!" Exciting.

There was a mad rush to leave when class was over. Elizabeth went over to the slumping half-giant.

"Hagrid, I loved the class!"

"Yeh did?"

"Well—um—yeah! Of course. But what about the Griffins?"

Hagrid looked at her grimly as if tried to decide what to say.

"'Hey all died. Of somethin'. Everythin' round here is. 'Very single creature I tried to 'aise here died 'cept the flobberworms. 'Ven Professor Sproat is 'aving trouble with her greenhouses. I had Olympe and me son move somewhere to the mountains. Seemed the best 'lace for 'em."

Elizabeth was taken back.

"What do you think it is? Did a sickness cause it?"

Hagrid picked up the crates with a sigh, looking towards the ominous Forbidden Forest.

"The creatures put 'emselves down. They sensed somethin' that we 'an't. Liz, stay inside the castle as 'ften as yeh can. Tell yer friends that too. Things are gettin' strange lately."

It was rapidly becoming dusk as Elizabeth half-ran to the safety of the castle. Of course, she waited until she was out of sight of the cabin to start running. Hagrid offered to walk back with her along with his crossbow, but she assured him she'd be fine.

Fear pushed her forward as the ground became a blur. She didn't know why, but it felt like all those animals' deaths she had something to do with. Maybe Sandy's father was right; all the chaos started when she returned. Maybe it had something to do with those marks on her body, the mark on her hand. Maybe it was the book, the snake-skin book.

A flash of golden white appeared in the corner of her eye, and she skidded to stop. A young unicorn emerging from the forest slowly to the lake and began to drink. It was amazing. His coat caught the last rays of the setting sun behind the trees. A glow seemed to surround him, his innocence putting her at peace. She brushed some stray strands of hair out of her eyes, grateful to the creature that had lowered himself to the ground by the tree. She grew concerned as it remained there.

Elizabeth walked slowly to the animal that was breathing heavy. Its eyes were half-open and yellowish, and it was gasping for some air.

Hagrid had carried the foal to his cabin where he placed it on a straw bed near the fireplace. It continued to lay there although its pupils darted between his two rescuers.

"Poor thin'. Wonder what 'appened to his mum? They 'sually don't wander around like that all 'lone when there 'oung."

"Will he be alright?!" Elizabeth tried not to be hysterical and make the situation worse but the foal looked so ill. His coat wasn't as shiny at all now with a closer look; it was faded and even torn in some places.

"'Aybe. If he eats right."

Hagrid grabbed his crossbow and opened the door for her.

"'Ve got to get yeh back to the castle. It's too dark for yeh to go 'lone."

They walked in silence for awhile with the sounds of the crunching grass as their only other companion.

Elizabeth turned to her protector, "Can I come a visit him some?"

"Sure. 'm sure he'd like that. Only owl me before yeh come. I'll wait for yeh by the doors."

"I was thinking about naming him Harry."

Hagrid smiled with some sadness in his beetle black eyes.

"That's a good, 'onorable name. It suits 'im."

Elizabeth smiled, looking forward to nursing the foal back to health when she saw...him watching her through the window of the highest tower on the left side of the castle. It was him...those ineffable, tormented eyes. If it hadn't been for those eyes, she would have missed his shadowy figure entirely with the gray brick around him. Her green eyes were locked on to his, drawn to his. Everything disappeared...nothing else mattered. She hissed as her left hand throbbed with a jolt of pain. She could look away at last.

"'Lizabeth, yeh alright? Yeh look so pale."

It seemed like hours had pasted, but the connection only lasted a second.

"I'm alright, Hagrid. I've just been writing so much lately."

Elizabeth forced a smile through the growing agony. She didn't bother to ask Hagrid if he had spotted the young man at the window. She knew he couldn't.

What's happening to me?

Elizabeth found Michael in the corner of the darkly lit library, reading up for all the Potion work he missed.

She rushed over and grabbed a seat next to him.

"'ello," he apparently was snacking. "What's with the greasy bat anyway? I'll probably finish this rubbish when I'm fifty."

"Michael, I don't think we should prank the Slyths tonight."

Michael hissed at her, almost choking, "Excuse me?! I only challenged that git to a duel!! I can't back down now!"

Elizabeth sighed. She knew that he would be hard to convince after how much he thought about that duel, but after she saw...

She whispered, meeting his eyes, "Listen, I want to get those snakes back as much as you do. Heck, even more so as I was the one in the hospital wing. But, you know, with so much happening-"

"Like what?! Oh, yeah. What happened to my mum. Now it's their turn."

"Michael, it's not like Pyrrhus himself did that himself to your mother and all those people. Yeah, it might have been his father. Can he help who and what his father is any more than we can? I don't have a problem pranking him and his evil-clothed-in-flesh sister for their own offenses like the broom incident but not for something he didn't do."

Michael sat back, dismayed. Then he turned bright purple with anger.

"Oh, I see. If it's not about you, you don't care, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, the only reason I challenged that guy to avenge my sister! It wasn't about the broom. It was about everything. It was about them and their pureblooded crap and how they think they're gods and can hurt people just because!"

"Well, I just lost you! You say I won't do it because it's not about me. That's not true. Yes, whoever did that to your mum deserves hell. But, we have no access to those people."

"Yes, we do! Through their little princes and princesses, their little joys. That's how we can get to them!"

He sounded so angry.

"Michael, your mum wouldn't want you to hurt others for her. I know she wouldn't. This is just a relatively harmless prank. They could get bruised but nothing more than that...We were just going to scare them, that's all. We don't want to become them."

"Oh, aren't you bloody Ms. Righteous all the sudden. All about honor now, are we?"

I think Sandy said something like that too!

"We are Gryffindors! Honor and bravery, etcetera...don't' you remember?"

Elizabeth didn't even know how this argument got started. She just wanted to postpone the prank. It was no big deal. She had forgotten about the whole duel thing, but that mistake she blamed on her stalker.

She relented, "I know you have to face him. Okay, let's do it tonight."

"Like I need your permission! It's going to happen tonight no matter what! And by the way, you need to sort out your attitude! You don't have to be so selfish."

"Michael, you know I didn't mean anything-"

"No, I don't. I don't really know you too well. I do know that you like getting attention."

He's using Snape's words against me! He can't really think that, can he?

"I do not like getting-"

"You always have to know everything; you always have to be perfect. To top it off, every teacher, adult, whoever always respects you because of your dad. Well, mine fought too. A lot of peoples' did."

She felt like he had punched her right in the face. She couldn't get her voice together.

"O-okay."

"You weren't even there for me! Daniel was, and he's not even related to me! You know, I wish my aunt hadn't even married a Potter! He's the reason she died."

She felt her whole body go numb then hot.

"You think you don't have to say a lot. What do you think you are better than us?! That's why people talk about you...they're not talking about how great your father was or how smart you are!"

I never thought that was why...

Michael stared at her red-faced, waiting for a reaction.

"I'll still help tonight. I do have my father's invisibility cloak; heaven knows what good that'll do. I'll meet you in the Common Room around eleven. Now, I've got to go suck up to a professor or two. I might even lick the dungeon floor. It looked a bit spotty."

Before Madam Pince cursed them both, Elizabeth grabbed her bag and left.

She kept her word. She met Michael, Daniel, and Sandy with the potion in hand and invisibility cloak intact. The others noticed the palpable tension between the two as they made their way down the hall, huddled under the cloak.

Daniel broke away from the group, Filibusters in tow towards the opposite end of the castle, weaving in between the statues. Peeves said he would cause a distraction but just in case he would try and rat them out, Daniel would draw him to his area. He already had a hiding place behind a sliding statue all picked out.

Sandy would stand by if things got out of control with a quick stupefy. She's also the lookout. She had a charm in handy to blend in, supposedly with the walls. Interesting...

When Sandy gave the signal, Elizabeth would ambush the unaware Slyths, and they would retreat to the Common Room, nice and safe.

It should work out okay.

So here she was, hiding behind Uric the Oddball, trying to calm herself down. Thinking about how she thought she saw a light, then thinking she didn't after all.

Wait, there is a— Then the world moved. She fell to the ground. The window across from her was illuminated, on fire. Steadying herself, she struggled towards the window.

Looking out, she saw that Hogsmeade was an inferno, the lights of the fire reflected on the water of the lake.

Other heads of children her age and older started to emerge from the windows adjacent to her, pointing and screaming.

McGonagall's voice roared throughout the halls, amplified.

"Perfects, gather your housemates and move to your designated safety room immediately!"

Elizabeth started to panic; they weren't in the Common Room. How would they find the safety room?! Michael, Daniel, Sandy, and even Pyrrhus! Everyone was in danger!

Clutching her father's cloak, she lumosed her way through the corridors, robes billowing out behind her.

It was hard to run with the floor rumbling and the walls shaking. Stone walls were shaking. What could cause this?! Hogwarts is supposed to be impenetrable!

The air was getting thick again. Not again! Leaning against the wall, she tried to gain her bearings. Everything was spinning.

She felt a hand steady her. Someone half-pulling, half-carrying her into a corridor. Who? She was shoved into darkness. No! Then there was some light flickering in the corner.

She was placed on something soft. A bed, a couch? She saw a red gaze above her, a pale face framed by dark hair. Then she drifted off.

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