"Where? How?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing, "Wouldn't they have reported it in the Daily Prophet?"

"They want to make sure all her family know, I think," Hermione said, sadly, "Plus..."

She scanned the room nervously.

"We shouldn't talk here."

"Settle down, class," Lupin called wearily, as he entered the room from his office. He looked particularly haggard, the circles under his eyes so purple, it seemed almost as though he had two black eyes.

"Push the desks aside," he said sternly, "Today, I want to see you practicing your stunning."

"Stunning?" Dean Thomas said, his surprise involuntary, "That's, like, second-year stuff..."

"I didn't ask for commentary, Mr. Thomas. Think of it as a drill," Lupin said, his voice unusually terse.

The class quieted considerably. Lupin tended to be extremely patient. What on Earth was going on? He was acting almost like...

"Like Snape," Harry realized, with a start, "Well, not exactly...but...something's upsetting him...something recent. Ms. Bones, maybe?"

Lupin spent the first section of the class making sure they all could perform an adequate stunning spell.

"Good, very good," he said, a bit of his usual warmth returning to his smile, "I can see you've all been...er...studying hard."

He winked at Harry, and the class chuckled appreciatively. Despite his embarrassment, Harry felt a small surge of pride. The D.A. really was doing quite well. To have an entire class of students able to produce a Patronus (even if they weren't all corporeal) well, that was saying something.

"Now remember, you don't need to have your wand aimed when saying the spell," Lupin reminded sternly, "Just so long as you have it aimed Iby the end/I of the spell. That ought to help you be a bit faster on the uptake. Let's work on our aim, shall we?"

Harry shifted nervously. They were supposed to be working on the Confundus Charm...he'd asked them to study it over break, hinting that there'd be a quiz on it when they returned. Why all the review, then?

"Now, I have to ask you," he said, with a wry smile, "to please not use this charm outside of our classroom here – Mr. Filch would be after my blood if he knew I was teaching you this. It's called the Pictus charm, and all it does is simply send a blotch of paint out the end of your wand. For example..."

He flicked his wand, and the large, roll-down map of England came rattling down over the chalkboard, to reveal a hastily drawn target painted on a sheet of paper.

"Pictus verto!" Lupin shouted, as he whipped his wand into place, and a small splotch of green paint shot out the end of it, and splattered neatly near the center of the bulls eye.

"Cool!" effused Seamus, taking out his own wand excitedly.

"Now please, please use this charm responsibly?" Lupin said, grimmacing. The class laughed appreciatively. "Alright, who's up first?"

Hermione walked casually to the back of the line where Ron and Harry were waiting their turn.

"Anyone else think this is fishy?" she whispered quietly.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, it's fun!" Ron said.

"It's target practice, Ron," she whispered, even more quietly.

"So, that's part of Defense, isn't it?" Harry countered, but he couldn't help but agree...something was nagging inside him. Why would they be having target practice? If Fudge had accused the D.A. of actually being an army, this felt even more...military.

"It's like training," Hermione said, confirming Harry's uneasy suspicions.

"Training for what?" Ron asked, nervously.

"Mr. Weasley!" Lupin said, beckoning cheerfully for him to take his turn, over the class's laughter. Multi-colored splotches of paint now covered the makeshift target.

Ron unsheathed his wand, and cried, "Pictus rosso!"

A flowery shade of pink paint splattered at the outermost ring of the target. The class burst out laughing.

"Pink?!" roared Seamus, and Ron went a brilliant shade of scarlet to match.

"I was aiming for red," he muttered.

"Were you aiming for the target?" ribbed Parvati, and the class laughed anew. Even Harry found himself laughing a bit.

"Come on, Hermione," he muttered, "There's no sense in worrying about it right now. There's nothing we can do."

Hermione didn't reply, but bit her lip worriedly.

"That was a good first effort, Mr. Weasley," Lupin said, clearly trying not to laugh himself, "Just need a bit more coordination...get the wand out of your pocket first, and then start the spell, but not too late, or you'll lose time. Also, a little more 's' on 'rosso,' or, well...you see what happened."

Ron's second attempt was much better. He had slowed down a bit, but his paint blotch was, in fact, red, and he'd even managed to get nearer to the center of the bulls eye.

"Good work!" Lupin said, "Much better. Bit slower, but still, greatly improved. Harry?"

They all took turns at target practice until Lupin was satisfied. They had just enough time to return the desks, and pass forward their homework on the Confundus charm, before class eneded.

"Keep practicing your aim!" Lupin reminded them, "And there may or may not be a pop quiz on the Confundus next meeting, so you may or may not want to study," he added with a twinkle in his eye. His mood seemed considerably improved. Harry reflected that teaching was probably one of the only things that lightened Lupin's days, especially now that Sirius was gone, and the Order was facing so much difficulty.

They waited for him after class without needing to be asked – it had become a sort of ritual for the trio to hang back, either to talk in hushed tones about the Order with Lupin, or just to exchange how their days had been going. Plus, Harry realized with an acid stomach, that he was going to have to trudge every painful step down to the Potions dungeon and take his lumps in Occlumency – and Snape had looked especially nasty today.

Lupin sighed wearily.

"I've got Order of Merlin," he said, sounding thoroughly displeased about it.

"What?!" Ron cried, aloud.

"Third class," Lupin said, as though this were the least important thing in the world, "For finding Ms. Bones."

"Oh," Ron said, his voice considerably less elated, "So that's what you did over holidays."

"And some other stuff," Lupin said cryptically, "You know I can't tell you."

"What happened?" Harry asked, gently.

"I found her," Lupin said, repressively.

"They wouldn't give you Order of Merlin for just that," Ron said, confusedly, "Ow!" For Hermione had trod on his foot.

"No, you're quite right, Ron," Lupin said, his voice tinged with bitterness, "It takes a real act of heroism to earn yourself a Merlin, Third Class." He seemed to want to keep going, but sighed.

"Tell us, Mooney," Harry urged again, quietly. He felt Lupin was becoming more and more of a friend and less and less of a parental figure.

"Well, some Death Eaters were holding her," Lupin said, "I managed to track them down."

Hermione made a strangled noise of alarm, and her eyes popped open.

Lupin shrugged, "The Order's been working on it all year, Hermione. We were bound to get lucky at some point. I got a lead from...well, I got a lead, and it turned out to be correct."

"Who'd you—" Ron began, but Harry interrupted him, sensing that Lupin was clearly not going to tell them.

"And?"

Lupin sighed very deeply and didn't speak for a moment. "She was under the Imperius, I think. Or something else, maybe. It was hard to say. Her eyes...it wasn't even really her, anymore. Once they figured out I was on their tail, they just..."

He paused again.

"They disposed of her."

Harry's heart sank. Lupin had seen enough these past couple years – it wasn't fair that he should keep having to be hit with bad news like this. He reflected idly that he could probably say the same for himself, or for anyone in the Order for that matter, even for his friends.

"I don't get it," Ron said, "They went through all the effort of kidnapping her just to kill her?"

"She'd outlived her usefulness," Lupin said, his anger clear in his voice, "They'd solved the Dementor issue, but if she was going to push for capital punishment...Well, now they've solved that as well. Getting her out of the Wizengamot was the real objective in the first place. They probably kept her alive just to interrogate her, kept her under the Imperius in case she might come in handy. I don't know – maybe they were even planning on sending her back to the Ministry with private orders from Lord Voldemort."

Harry felt, rather than heard Ron's sudden intake of breath. At least he didn't whimper as he used to. Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

"Once the fighting started—"

"Fighting?" Ron asked, incredulously, but Hermione shushed him. Lupin continued unabated.

"She proved a liability...and they just...extinguished her," he said simply, "Left her body, and Apparated. No idea where. Didn't even have time to conjure the Dark Mark."

"It sounds," Hermione said, after a brief quiet, "Like you were really brave."

Lupin snorted. "Brave. Doesn't matter how brave it was, now...The only decent lead we've had in months, wasted. They both got away, and Madame Bones is dead. I can't even look at the ruddy thing."

Harry had something else to ask, however, and while he felt like a bit of a heel, Lupin's defenses would be a bit low right now...

"Speaking of fighting," he said tentatively, "What were we doing in lessons today?"

"Target practice," Lupin said bluntly. It was clear from his tone of voice that he had no intention of elaborating, and had probably already answered more questions that he wanted to. Harry opened his mouth to ask again, but Lupin smoothly turned to the board, and began Evanescing the paint that had spattered from stray Pictus spells, and Hermione made eye contact with Harry and shook her head warningly.

"How was Divination?" Lupin asked, turning away from the chalkboard.

"Oh. That," Ron said, lightly, "Usual nonsense."

He adopted a mock-prophetic voice, "'You are all doooomed! We are born and die in the fire...' Remind me to bring some marshmallows."

Hermione elbowed him sharply.

"Owch! Will you stop that? Come on, Hermione, you've always said Divination is a bit woolly."

"Give Firenze a break," Lupin said tersely, "He's had a rough holiday as well...he doesn't need us having a go at him behind his back. Or...above it, or...you know what I mean."

"Sorry," Ron said, promptly and meekly. He gave Harry a flash of the eyebrows, as though to say, "What's up with this?" but Harry just shrugged.

"Aren't you late for Occlumency, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"I will be if I don't leave soon."

"Why haven't you then?" Hermione asked, sternly.

"Working up the nerve," Harry muttered.

"You'll be alright," Lupin said, a note of comfort returning to his unusually sharp demeanor, "Professor Snape has other things on his mind to distract him. Just don't give him any cheek, and you'll be out of there in an hour or so."

"Right."

Harry stood to go, shoulder his school bag, and sighing resolutely. But before he made it to the door.

"Err..." Lupin said, haltingly, "Listen, you three. Just...be careful, will you? And keep your ears to the ground?"

"Alright," Ron said in a rather loud voice, leaping irritatedly down from his seat on the desk, "You can't say things like that and expect us to—"

"Ron, please..." Lupin said, and it was the desperate look in his eyes, and the defeated slump of his posture that quieted Ron and made them all take notice.

"I know we tell you to be careful all the time," Lupin said, "I know...it's Ialways/I dangerous. But please...just tell me you will be careful. Even if you have no intention of doing it. Just tell me you will."

"Of course we will," Hermione said, with a comforting, matter of fact nod.

Lupin smiled.

"Alright. Off with you, I've got extra help with the first years today, and I want to give them my undivided attention."

Indeed, as Harry left, he saw a nervous looking Arthur Aaronson slouched near the door, while Electra Bellanova examined her nails coolly, her other hand on her hip. She met Harry's eyes briefly, and nodded once. Harry was pretty sure he knew what she was communicating...she could sense it too. An ill wind was blowing through the Hogwarts corridors, and it seemed to put everyone at unease. They both shouldered their bags and entered the classroom, just as Broderick Johnson and Etta Edgecombe came hurrying down the hall after them.

"Harry," began Hermione nervously, "What do you think—"

"I can't," Harry said, despondently, "Got to clear my mind."

"Oh...sorry," she said, clearly upset by his own preoccupied, sullen mood, "Can we—"

"Yeah," finished Ron, "Common room?"

Harry nodded. He didn't think talking about it would be much help – they knew as much as he did.

"See you then," Hermione said, her expression pained with concern.

Harry tried to smile reassuringly at her, and was glad to see the wrinkle in Hermione's forehead, which he had thought would become a permanent fixture, release slightly.