A/N: I got lots of questions about why Ambell wasn't mentioned in the last chapter. So, what will happen to her on the full moon? I must have passed over it too quickly, but, according to Snape, they'll be able to drug her, and make her sleep through the transformation. Since everyone was so curious, I'll go over it in greater detail in here.

This chapter is mainly an intro to my OC. If you like OC's, read and enjoy! If you don't, you can skip, I'll tag a summary to the end.

Chapter 5

Soft, slightly pink-tinted light filtered in through the curtains, waking Ambell from a deep sleep. It caused a warm, contented feeling to start, focused on the patch of light she found herself bathing in. For a moment, she contemplated rolling over and sleeping through the morning sun, but couldn't quite bring herself to turn away from the beautiful feeling of contented safety that she hadn't enjoyed in so long. Then she remembered where she was, and why she was safe.

Her gaze drifted to Hermione's bed, but it was empty. Looking past, she found her friend spleeping against the rooms' other window, curled up on the window seat. Hermione had her pajamas on, but the still-made bed proved she hadn't really intended to sleep. Her breath made little puffs of fog upon the glass, which was still cool in the early morning. Her hair was braided back out of her face in twin braids, but a few strands had escaped and curled about her face. Ambell hadn't seen her look so young in years, not since they'd been bitten.

Ambell wanted to cry, seeing her like that. It was too much, what Hermione had done for her. Ambell was free for the first time, free like she'd never thought she would be, ever again. And that was entirely due to the efforts of her best friend. Ambell knew she would've done the same thing in Hermione's place, but couldn't bring herself to be completely happy that it had been done. Not that she wasn't grateful, but she didn't want the cost of her freedom to be her best friends' life. And, one way or the other, that's exactly what the cost would be.

It was selfish, she knew. Ambell was far more willing for the cost of freedom to be the life of some unknown werewolf desperate for a cure, than for it to be Hermione's unhappiness. And Hermione would never forgive herself for the death of this man, this Remus Lupin. She was already lamenting him, truth be told. Every night since they'd been here, and it had been a full week, now; Ambell had woken to find Hermione perched on that windowsill, her bed untouched. This was the first time Hermione'd been asleep, but the sleepless nights were bound to catch up with her sometime.

And Ambell knew, better than anyone else, that once the Moon was over, Hermione would never be able to live with the guilt. It might be a week, it might be a year, but having another friends' death on her conscience would undo her. So many times, in the past week, she'd caught Hermione hoping for her own death. Hermione'd even called on their agreement, once. But Ambell just couldn't. The agreement had been for the sake of saving towns. This was just one, and he knew what he was risking. But Hermione would never see it that way. She'd try, for the sake of not making his sacrifice in vain, but in the end, it wouldn't matter.

Ambell sighed, and pulled herself up. There had to be an answer, somewhere. There had to be something that would work, that would keep Hermione from killing him. Ambell had spent long enough delighting in the knowledge of her freedom. It was time to find some answers, and she was no slouch when it came to research. She dug her laptop out of her bag; she'd certainly need to be taking notes. The answer is there to be found, as Hermione was so fond of saying, if only you're willing to look hard enough.

At least her own conscience had been relieved. Ambell knew there was no chance she would have found a cure, would even have been up to searching, if she was in Hermione's position as well. They'd be sobbing on each others shoulders; Ambell might have been a greater comfort to Hermione that way, but she wouldn't have done her friend any real good. Ambell was satisfied enough with her own condition that she could focus, and focus was very much needed.

It had come as quite a surprise, at the meeting that first night, when the Potions Master had told her she needn't fear the moon, that Muggle-turned-werewolves like herself could be drugged and simply kept unconscious for the full moon. It was odd that neither Ambell nor Hermione had found such a thing in their research. But then, every book they'd read dealt with werewolves in the Wizarding world, and it was entirely likely that they'd just missed or ignored the necessary passage.

The two had been researching together for years, though. It had begun when the ministry had brought them home; they'd been unwilling to spend more than a few moments apart, since no one else knew what they were going through. Their parents allowed the girls their time, thinking it the simpler matter of Mark's death. The first few weeks, they'd spent the time just talking and crying together. Eventually, however, Hermione'd needed to complete her summer homework.

Not having any summer homework, being unwilling to leave Hermione's side, and having quite an interest in magic, Ambell had worked with her. At first, Hermione had tried to keep her friend from it. While she'd always shared the wizarding world with her friends, Hermione didn't think it would be useful or even healthy for Ambell to be reading Wizarding textbooks. Ambell had ignored her. Though she obviously couldn't cast spells, there was no harm in learning the theory. And texts such as History of Magic were, obviously, as useful to her as they were to anyone magical.

Hermione had conceded the point. By the end of the summer, she'd been infinitely glad she had. History of Magic was, apparently, not the only branch of magic that didn't require the learner to be magical. And Ambell, brilliant as she was, had picked up everything she could, and given it a try.

Hermione might be the brightest witch of the wizarding world, but they'd been competitors in grade school, both several grades ahead, even by the time Hermione left, at eleven. Ambell had graduated fully four years early, and continued on to University. Ambell had finished her Bachelors' in four different subjects two years ago, and been working on her advanced degrees in Math and Chemistry since. Ambell had only just obtained her Masters in Chemistry this past semester, and was quite glad, now, that she'd finished it. She'd planned on finishing her Doctoral thesis for math this next year, but now it would likely have to wait, at least until something was done about The Bastard.

Needless to say, Ambell could pick up a subject quickly.

Ambell, it had turned out, was fairly decent with Ancient Runes. It was one of the reasons for Hermione's incredible interest in them at school. The moment the two girls had discovered that the magic for runes came only from outside sources, they'd been ecstatic. Even when a rune required blood, it didn't mater if the caster was a wizard. Those runes used the life-force of the caster to amplify natural magic, not the casters' magic itself. The only advantage a wizard might have, is that a non-magic caster would feel more drained by the casting, where a wizards' magic would heal such a drain before it could be noticed.

The other subject Ambell had shown an aptitude for was Potions, and it was this that had driven her to study Chemistry as well as her beloved Math. The links between the magical and non-magical forms of the art were many and strong, though after several years of Muggle Chemistry, Ambell had grown frustrated with Potions' relatively large lack of precision and good equipment. She'd even gone so far in the two fields as to have written a number of essays on the topic, which she'd passed on to Hermione. Hermione'd liked them so well, she had sent them off to a Potions technical journal, and, or so her friend said, some had even ended up published.

The research had gone both ways, though. In learning that her friend could do magic, and that at least some magic might have scientific background, Hermione had re-awakened her interest in a Muggle education. Hermione's parents had been ecstatic at the interest, and done all they could to encourage it. Unbeknownst to her peers in the wizarding world, Hermione had begun taking correspondence courses. After her parents' death, Hermione had redoubled her efforts. She'd managed to complete her high school education just this past Christmas. Ambell and her parents had gone to her graduation, and both girls had cried when she got her diploma. It was something Hermione's parents would have loved to see.

Ambell smiled a bit, as she pulled on the set of wizards' robes Hermione had lent her. Loose and flowing, they really were more comfortable, as long as you weren't planning on doing anything particularly active. For a moment, she forgot the fate of Remus Lupin, and lost herself in the fantasy of playing about in the wizarding world for the rest of their lives. She shook her head to clear the image; the wizarding world had just as many problems as her own, and it would be years before the two of them weren't hunted for what had happened to Mark.

Ambell sighed. She'd never been a morning person, but if she was going to go, she'd better go now. The second Hermione was awake, she'd want to be involved in any sort of research, and Hermione had quite enough on her mind just now. Ambell tugged the blanket off her bed, and crossed the room. She smiled fondly at Hermione's sleeping form, carefully tucking in her best friend, as not to wake her. "Sleep well, Hermione. I'll find a way, I promise."

With that, Ambell set off to find the library in the dusty old mansion. Yawning, she corrected herself. Coffee first, then library. She'd not do anyone a bit of good, stumbling about and crashing into things.

The Library was occupied, when she got there. A glance proved the other occupant to be Severus Snape, whom she'd met after the Order meeting a week before. He looked somewhat less threatening, now, flopped onto a couch and sipping his own coffee. She slipped quietly across the room, managing not to catch his attention as she searched for books. She didn't want to answer questions on why she was here. Hermione'd warned her about Snape; he was a spy, a potions master, and, according to Hermione, quite the evil bastard. He might be able to help her, but he was more likely to either curse her, interrogate her, or ignore her for being an ignorant muggle.

Ambell was hardly afraid of a little sarcasm, as her Uncle David, who worked in government intelligence, was rather dry-humored himself. She'd spent the summer with him twice, when her parents had gone on vacation. He was sarcastic with everyone; he said it kept away idiots, fools, and people who were too weak to want as friends. The only people who could stand him were family, but they loved him dearly, and he was fiercely protective of his 'own'.

Ambell had learned, once she'd gotten to know him, that he had a wonderful sense of humor. The other thing she'd learned from him was never to startle a spy. Which is why she was trying, very, very hard, not to let on to Snape that she was anywhere near. She could see his wand, settled in a shoulder holster; both holster and wand lying discarded on the end table. If she startled him, she might just find herself rather thouroughly cursed before she had the chance to explain.

She slipped the books she wanted from the shelf, barely daring to breathe, tucking them under her spare arm with the laptop as she balanced the cup of coffee over to the table and chair in the corner. Magic really would be rather useful right now, she muttered mentally, as she headed for a secluded corner table, far away from Snape. It would be awfully nice to have a spare hand. Or at least to be able to levitate things. She rolled her eyes at her bout of jealousy, and carefully set up the laptop. Hermione had charmed it to run without electricity, and Ambell was feeling especially thankful just now; there wasn't an outlet in sight. Besides, it meant she didn't have to go dragging cords with her everywhere.

Finding herself seated, and not-yet-cursed, Ambell slowly let out her breath. She took a sip of coffee, but found the bit of sneaking about had rendered additional aides in waking-up unnecessary. Smiling to herself over her success, she dove into the first text. She'd been unable to find the werewolf book, but this one was on Wolfsbane. If Ambell were to find a solution, it was likely to be potions-based. Wolfsbane was relatively new, and a breakthrough she'd been decidedly excited to see, but they'd discarded it as usable early in their research. But she was determined to find out, if not why it wouldn't work for Hermione and herself, why it /did/ work for other wolves.

In the center, she set up her laptop. She'd have to type quietly, but it was worth the extra noise risk to not have to try her hand at quill and ink. Why wizards would insist on such annoying methods, she'd never understand. Why fuss with dipping in inkwells every two seconds, and all the mess if you spilt ink, when a simple ballpoint pen worked so nicely? And scrolls of parchment instead of notebooks? Not in her lifetime. There were a great many things wizards could do that she was unable to, but Ambell, for one, wouldn't take a trade of the entire wizarding world, even for just her laptop.

Grinning to herself, she sorted the books out in front of her, booting the computer and muting the volume. She set the book about the Wolfsbane potion to one side, sorting the other texts between two stacks. One was of magical books werewolves, books with which she was intimately familiar, but might need to reference or double-check. The other stack was of Wizarding technical journal compilations, individual issues hard-bound into a text, where she hoped to find any new information regarding Wolfsbane.

She flipped open the first journal, amused to realize she'd stumbled on one of her own essays. Hermione really /had/ been getting them published. She giggled as she realized that her best friend had published them under her middle name. Who, after all, would associate Scott Marshall with Ambell Scott Marshall? She smiled fondly, and scanned down the page. Only to start in surprise at seeing it marked up in both black and red pen. She blinked, confused… nope, still there. The black appeared to be notes, examinations of her research, and other sorts of scribbles typical of a scientist pondering new information. But the red… corrections? Someone was correcting her work?

It had to be Snape, but… seriously, wasn't making corrections in a technical journal a tad over the top, even for him? At least he made some interesting points, she noted, searching through his black-ink comments. Amused, she read that he found her theory sound, though he worried that her solutions were "overly-muggle". God forbid a Muggle know anything, of course. Snorting in amusement, she flipped past the article, hunting for something related to werewolves.

Twelve pages of notes and several hours later, she set down the last of the journals. Ambell had been able to go through the articles far faster than she'd thought possible, as Snape had apparently marked every single one similarly to her own. His remarks had been surprisingly insightful, and had also allowed her to summarize articles quickly, and pass over the ones that didn't hold anything she wanted. She'd had to choke back the laughter several times, while reading his analysies of others' works, once even on an article of her own that he'd found "Foolishly Idealistic"- among other things. She'd found three other of her articles in there, each one covered in red and black ink, though she'd been most amused to find the most recent one entirely free of the red.

She felt a shift in the room, and looked up. Not knowing what had drawn her attention, she checked the clock at the corner of the screen. Surprised, she realized it was dinnertime. She'd skipped straight through lunch. Her stomach took that moment to make her aware of just how hungry she was. It was odd, though, that Snape hadn't noticed her, or that Hermione hadn't come to find her long before now. She shrugged, figuring Snape had been just as wrapped up in his own research as she had been in hers.

She felt his presence behind her chair, then. She smiled, knowing he was about to try and startle her. "Something I can help you with?" She felt him start at her words, then watched as he came around in front and approached, out of the corner of her eye.

"What's all this? Trying to find a cure, when your betters have been unable to? Tell me, have you figured out what a cauldron is, yet, little Muggle?" Snape spoke smoothly, the oddly gentle tone contrasting with the harsh, belittling words.

Ambell immediately felt defensive, but determined not to let him get to her. If she could convince him she wasn't an idiot, he'd be an invaluable help in her research. Showing nothing on her face but a hint of amusement, she simply countered. "Yes, I do believe I have."

"Surely you know that there is nothing you can do, foolish girl. This isn't your world, and you know nothing of it. Leave the research to those capable of it." Snape sneered at her, his eyes falling on an rather advanced potions book that was resting on the table.

Ambell fought to keep her face expressionless, grinning mentally. Even if he wouldn't help her, or let her help him, with the research; this was going to be an awful lot of fun. This fellow was in for quite a surprise.

So she sneered right back at him. "You're right, this isn't my world. Even a child in my world wouldn't work with such imprecise methods, nor be brash enough to call such tomfoolery science." Ooooh, I think he's gonna die if he turns any more red, she thought, stifling a giggle. She was really rather proud that she'd startled such a reaction out of the made-of-stone master spy.

"And what would you know of science, little girl?" He snarled. "Despite whatever you might think, I hold a Masters in Chemistry, as well as my wizarding credentials." He was obviously flustered by having a child call him on a lack of knowledge in anything related to his craft.

That bit of information caught her off guard. She hadn't expected him to have taken a Muggle degree at all, let alone to have graduated from her Alma Matter. Ambell smirked. "As do I, Professor Snape." She paused, just a moment, then, "I don't believe we've been formally introduced. My name is Ambell Marshall. Ambell Scott Marshall, actually."

Her expression turned to a grin at the obviously gobsmacked expression on the usually sour mans' face. He had obviously made the connection to her nom de plume. She waited a moment, reveling in watching him - standing there awkwardly, every thought showing on his face. He obviously wanted to compare notes, but couldn't bring himself to ask; not after he'd managed to insult her so thoroughly. A moment later, however, she took pity. After all, she had wanted his help, and this had worked out far better than she'd imagined it could have.

She motioned to a nearby chair. "I'd pull up a chair for you, but I daresay you'll be able to do so more easily?" He turned to her then, his eyes questioning, no trace of his former hostility present. "I certainly can't say I'll know anything you don't, but two heads are surely better than one." She cocked her head to one side. "Speaking of magic, and my abilities or inabilities therein, I don't suppose you would mind summoning dinner?" She grinned at him. "One of the annoying things about being a Muggle in a houseful of Wizards. Everyone expects you can do things you can't."

He seemed somewhat surprised at her comfort with magic. "Not at all, Miss Marshall."

"It's Ambell, if we're to be working together, professor." She held out a hand.

He took it. "Call me Severus, Ambell." He smiled, then, a genuine smile; a sight that would have sent any Hogwarts' student running.

Summary for those who dislike OC's (and no, I'm not insulted, sometimes I don't like them either): Ambell wants to do something to try and help Hermione, who is really, truly, seriously depressed over this whole likely-going-to-kill-Remus thing. She's trying to find a cure, and knows enough about both Potions and Chemistry that she's hoping she might actually be able to help. By the end of the chapter, Snape is working with her.

A/N: And before you all flame me, I'm not planning on pairing them off. They're just going to be friends. I just don't think Snape gets enough credit. I also needed a way to make Ambell cool by herself, without suddenly discovering that she's magical or some such stereotypical foolishness. And yeah, she is a tad extraordinary, but… hey, so is Hermione. I mean, really, we all know Hermione could've passed her NEWTs in the fourth year.