The Good War

by inwardtransience

Despite her best efforts, Elizabeth Potter is repeatedly drawn into situations she wants absolutely nothing to do with. People just refuse to leave her the hell alone. (fem!Harry, dark!independent!Harry, mentor!Snape, F/F, playing with tropes for fun and profit)

37. Third Year — XVII

February 1994

---

Liz was hardly a stranger to occasional muscle aches. It wasn't at all unusual for chasers and seekers (or beaters) to strain things in their arms or shoulders or backs — and her particular style meant the muscles in her stomach and lower back tended to get more of a workout than most, she'd even managed to pull something in her hip a couple times. The topical potion she'd found helped, yes, but it did best with stuff closer to the surface, and didn't do shite for sprains and cramps or whatever. It was pretty common for Liz to be walking around with dull, lowly-simmering pain especially in her back and stomach that she just ignored.

And there was the duelling practice too, of course, but those usually didn't leave her with the same kind of pain. Some of the same kind, sure. After a bit of talk and practice, they'd decided it was to Liz's advantage to keep moving as much as possible — a curse was useless if you couldn't hit the person with it (which was also the one thing being so tiny was good for), and Liz was still a relatively weak mage (due to her age) so her shields weren't excellent, and she was pretty fit so she didn't have any trouble running and getting incantations out at the same time — which meant she often spent most of their two-hour-long practice meetings constantly sprinting back and forth. Her legs and back were pretty much always burning by the end, and her legs would sometimes ache for the next couple days. Especially noticeable while sitting trying to read, she'd find herself idly rubbing at them without really meaning to.

She'd even gotten a few very painful cramps in her legs, usually in the day or two afterward, which sucked — nowhere near as painful as having her back cut open, but still, pretty bad, made it difficult to walk at all for five or ten minutes until it finally calmed down, and even then it'd keep aching for a while. It'd still been bothering her at a quidditch practice once, and she'd asked Adrian, and he'd said that just happened sometimes when you started doing a lot with something that hadn't gotten much before, as long as it's only every once in a while it's not something to worry about. He'd also said leg cramps like that could be growing pains, which meant she might be finally getting taller — she wasn't holding her breath, but.

And, of course, getting hit with hexes and curses and shite generally wasn't a pleasant experience either. Liz hadn't ended up in hospital from duelling practice yet, but she had been hit with bludgeoning hexes, or knocked over and slammed into the floor, or all kinds of little schoolyard jinxes and shite, whatever. Mostly, she ended up with bruises, which her topical potion worked for just fine, but still, it wasn't unusual to be left with lingering low-level aches for days afterward — not really bad enough to do anything about, just there in the background. Put it all together, and Liz was pretty much always sore, if only a little bit, and sometimes when she woke up a lot a bit, if today was a leg cramp day.

So, while Liz waking up in pain wasn't exactly unusual, it still fucking sucked. Still delirious from sleep, in that funny place of not being quite properly awake yet, the only thing coming through clearly the hard, tense pain in her stomach, she found herself curled up on her side with her face against her pillow, hugging her stomach and clenching her teeth against a groan.

It didn't come entirely without warning, as she properly woke up she wasn't really surprised. There had been a dull pain in the same spot for...a few days now, at least, spiking a little worse now and then but mostly ignorable. Though it was weird, she didn't know what was causing it. She'd just kind of assumed she'd taken a hex in duelling practice and didn't notice, or something — random little aches were common enough that getting another one wasn't something to worry about.

This was a lot worse than ordinary little muscle aches, more like those rare awful leg cramps, ow ow ow, fuck...

It did slowly ease, a lot like those leg cramps, but unevenly, the blob of pain in her abdomen shifting as parts of it gave up, subsiding into a baseline dull hard ache, and others stubbornly hung on...and occasionally spiking again, because of course, ow. But it must have been getting better, or maybe she was just waking up enough to try to power through it, because in time it didn't seem quite so bad. She flopped over onto her back, the air cool on her sweaty skin, which was pleasant, but her stomach lurched a little in protest, which was less pleasant (ugh). The tension dribbling out of her, at least partially, she let out a breath...and then it immediately caught as, when her legs relaxed, she noticed...

Had she...wet the bed? That didn't seem likely, she hadn't...

She must not be fully awake, because her hand unthinkingly went to her pants, and that wasn't right — it seemed too...thick? sticky? Not by a lot, but noticeably more than she would expect (not that she exactly went sticking her fingers in piss very often), but she wasn't sure what this was, rubbing her fingers together, it almost felt like—

Oh.

"Luceat." The lights flipped on, Liz blinked against the glare for a moment, as soon as her vision was clear looked at her wettened fingertips. The colour looked slightly off, but that was definitely blood.

...Well. That explains that, she guessed.

Taking a deep breath to try to settle her roiling stomach, Liz slowly pushed herself up to sitting — with the hand that didn't have period blood on it, obviously...though she'd probably have to have the sheets replaced anyway. Shifting her weight wasn't making it better, the ball of pain low in her abdomen making little throbs of protest, Liz grimaced, her hand instinctively jumping to it...which meant she'd just gotten blood on her vest, oops. Her stomach wasn't happy about it either, bile crawling up her throat, she paused to take a couple more deep breaths, and— A couple seconds after she was upright, she noticed— Oh god, she could feel it moving around in there, and— Eich, gross gross gross...

Liz spent a long moment with her head pressed against her knees, her eyes squeezed shut as she took slow, deep breaths, trying not to vomit, cold sweat prickling across her head and chest.

So, turns out periods suck. Good to know.

Well, no, that was completely miserable to know actually, but.

Right, she had class today, which meant she needed to get up. Not that she actually wanted to go to class — she had double Transfiguration this morning, and then Defence and Herbology in the afternoon, Fridays sucked — but people would notice if she didn't go. But she would need to get cleaned up before getting dressed, and ugh, she was leaking...

Fuck it. "Nilanse."

After only a brief delay, there was a sharp pop, and a familiar red-eyed house-elf was standing near the bed. "Good morning, Liz! What is..." She trailed off, blinking. "Oh, is something being wrong?"

"No, nothing, just— Do you know a spell to, I don't know, vanish all this shite," pointing down at herself, "so I'll stop leaking?"

"Vanish what? I'm not—" Somehow, Nilanse's overlarge elf eyes managed to go even wider. "Oh! Yes, there is a spell for doing that but, mm, I'm knowing it."

Nilanse sounded less than entirely certain, but Liz guessed she'd probably never actually used it before — she was a little younger than Liz, and obviously there weren't any other humans around she would have done it for. But Liz was pretty sure Cediny wouldn't have sent her off with Liz if she didn't know everything, so. "Please."

"Okay, one moment." Nilanse hopped up onto the bed — definitely using magic of some kind to make it easier, she was tiny and shouldn't be able to jump that high — bouncing into place toward the foot, just out of hand's reach of Liz. One hand raised, fingers pressed together in preparation to snap, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

Liz felt her shoulders tense, eyes crawling on her skin like ants, tried to relax. She was only in her vest and knickers right now, which was awkward, but she was still partially covered by the sheets — also, she suspected it was literally impossible for Nilanse to intentionally hurt her, fae being bound to their word, so. After a delay of a few seconds, Nilanse snapped her fingers once, an odd, shivering tingle of magic working its way through— Fuck, that felt really fucking weird. Thankfully, it only lasted for a heartbeat before Nilanse snapped her fingers a second time, a flash of sparkling heat surging through her (being sensitive to magic was just uncomfortable sometimes), but then it was over, everything returning to normal.

Of course, normal still fucking hurt, but she doubted Nilanse would be able to do anything about that part. Charms tended to suck for that sort of thing, needed a potion instead. But, shifting around in her seat, she couldn't feel the blood and whatever shifting around inside her (eich) anymore, so Nilanse must have gotten all of it. Good. "That's much better, thank you."

"You're welcome!" Nilanse chirped with a grin, bouncing on her toes a little, the motion more obvious for the bed shifting under her a little — not very much, she was tiny, but still enough for Liz to feel it. Despite how miserable she was feeling at the moment, Liz still felt a smile twitch at her lips. "Is there being anything else I can do?"

...Well, now that she was asking, "You can apparate in here, right? Can you get me straight into one of the showers? I need to clean up..."

"Oh, yes, I can do that. One second, I'll go find an empty one." Another snap of her fingers, and Nilanse was gone, the mattress springing back up to its normal shape.

Liz dragged herself to the edge of the bed, one hand pressed against her stomach. Actually moving wasn't making the pain any better, or the nausea, fuck, this was miserable...not to mention her pants were damp with blood, a lot more obvious when she was moving, ugh, gross.

She managed to get to the edge, her feet resting on the carpet, by the time Nilanse reappeared. A long, delicate, elven hand was held out toward her, Liz was distracted for a second looking at it — it was still kind of weird that elves and goblins had an extra joint in their fingers. Anyway, right, getting up. It took a second to convince herself to, both because she didn't feel well, and also she wasn't wearing shorts, but it was only Nilanse, it was fine, it was fine. She grimaced as she stood, the bloody thing (ha) spasming a little in protest at being moved, fuck... Once she was upright and more or less steady, she took Nilanse's hand.

The thing elves did wasn't the same thing as human apparation — Liz used the same word, but that was just because she didn't know what else to call it, they were obviously different. Human apparation had an unpleasant twisty thing to it, but the elf kind... It was like this hard black stuff just slammed in against her from all directions at once, and then instantly lifted away to drop her somewhere else. It was hardly pleasant, no, she was convinced no magical transportation was, but it was less nauseating. Which was fortunate, because with how unsettled her stomach felt at the moment, normal apparation would probably make her sick up instantly.

Nilanse had brought her directly into the shower, but Liz immediately stepped away — lurching a little, stiff and unsteady, leaning against the wall — to go out and— Oh, Nilanse had already locked the door, okay. "Shite, um, do you know where my shower bag is?"

"On one of the hooks, to the left of the door. I'll bring that, and then I'll wait until the barrier is up to bring you clothes."

Liz let out a sigh, the tension leaving her enough she actually shivered a little, the cool tile pleasant against her sweaty forehead. Nilanse must be aware she didn't— The little elf was trying to work around her neuroses, which, it was nice of her, that was all. "That'll work. Thank you, Nilanse, really."

Once she was undressed — her pants stuck to her skin, ugh — and had the water on, the temperature set rather higher than she normally preferred, she spent a few minutes just lying on her back in the false rain, hot water pounding against her skin. It was a little uncomfortable, but the warmth was loosening the ache in her abdomen at least a little bit, she thought. She could tell it'd come right back once she was out of the water, which fucking sucked. It wasn't like Hogwarts was going to run out of hot water, so, why not.

The nausea wasn't getting any better, though, because of course. And she had to get to Transfiguration.

She already hated today, and it'd barely even started.

Eventually she managed to get moving, cursing to herself under her breath. Nilanse had brought her pants, vest and shorts, and her school robes — which was also slightly creepy, because apparently Nilanse had been spying on her enough to know how she dressed, but it was only Nilanse, it was fine — and also socks and boots, her wand holster (wand included), and her school bag, apparently assuming she wouldn't be going back to her room. Out of curiosity, Liz drew her wand to check the time, and—

Oh shite, how was it that late already?! She'd adjusted to the school schedule long ago, so she didn't bother setting an alarm anymore — the exception was the morning after Astronomy, but that was on Monday this year — but it was already past half after eight! She had to be in Transfiguration in less than half an hour! How the fuck had that happened, she hadn't been in the shower that long...must have overslept...

Just, fuck, that was all. Good thinking, Nilanse, she guessed.

She couldn't say she was particularly upset that she wouldn't have time to get breakfast. The pain was a little bit better from when she'd woken up — or maybe she was just getting used to it? — but her stomach hadn't settled down yet, she doubted she'd be able to get much down. And showing up at a meal and visibly not eating made people worry more than just not showing up at all. She really didn't want to go to Transfiguration either, but she never wanted to go to Transfiguration, so.

...Severus had given her permission to not go to class for mental health reasons, but she thought she actually felt fine — other than just vaguely angry, but that didn't really count. If she just didn't show up to class today, he'd probably find the time to ask why, and she didn't think he'd accept my uterus was trying to murder me and I hate everything as a good excuse. And also it would be embarrassing.

Letting out a sigh, Liz finally left the bathroom, trying not to openly grimace as the pain throbbed with each step. Today was going to fucking suck, she just knew it.

---

As the Hospital Wing door closed behind her, Dorea let out a sigh — she was really starting to hate that place. Even after a good twelve hours, she still felt a little numb and weak, her knees shaking, she gripped the handrail much harder than usual out of fear she might fall. With each unsteady step down, the frustration simmering in her chest burned hotter and hotter, Dorea blankly glared down at the stone in front of her feet.

This couldn't go on any longer. Dorea had to do something about it, now.

Their stay at the Greenwood had given her temporary relief, sudden and intense enough that Dorea was certain that there must be something on the wards to reinforce people's health. Dorea hadn't felt quite as well for the rest of the holiday, after going home, but it hadn't been so bad — she'd felt a little tired sometimes, and she'd had a single migraine a few days before leaving for school, but that was it. She was taking that as confirmation that it wasn't just the dementors, she'd be left having to deal with this stuff even after they were gone. Which was annoying — and also unnerving when she let herself get carried away, because she had been dying before — but at least she knew it would be better once they were gone.

Though they weren't making any progress on that front whatsoever — Fudge was being such a stubborn bastard. Even with Sirius making it bloody obvious that he was in the south, even briefly tussling with Aurors sent to capture him on a handful of occasions, Fudge still hadn't removed the dementors from Hogwarts. Sirius had even let himself be seen in Brittany, suggesting he might flee across the border into France — who had already offered him asylum if he reached their territory, conditional upon verified testimony that he was innocent of the crimes he was accused of (mostly to stick it to Britain, Dorea was convinced) — but even still, Fudge insisted he was trying to get to Hogwarts, and they had to keep the soul-sucking demons around the place for the students' safety! despite the fact that the students themselves had signed multiple letters in the Prophet demanding the dementors be removed due to the effects on their health! Apparently the opinions of the people he was supposedly trying to protect were irrelevant, of course...

Sirius wasn't actually trying to get into Hogwarts anymore, so Dorea didn't care if Fudge wanted to post Hit Wizards or something around the school instead. And that would be a reasonable step to take, given Sirius had proven multiple times that he could slip past dementors undetected — a number of people had even made that exact point in the Wizengamot, and with Fudge personally, but no, the bloody idiot refused to listen.

At this point, Dorea was absolutely convinced that Fudge stubbornly insisted on keeping the dementors here because he believed Sirius wanted into Hogwarts (which Dorea still had no explanation for), and he didn't want Sirius to survive being captured. Why was the interesting point. She suspected Fudge was aware Sirius was innocent (at least partially), and was worried an inquiry into what happened that night twelve years ago could be disastrous for his own political career. Which, to be fair, it almost certainly would be — if it came out that the only remaining son of a Noble House (one of the Seventeen Founders at that) had been remanded to Azkaban without even a hearing, if there were even the slightest procedural improprieties, everyone who'd been even indirectly involved would probably find themselves blacklisted from pretty much any venue the nobility had any control over, including the Ministry. The House of Black might not be particularly popular with a lot of their peers, but there were some lines that were simply not crossed.

In short, the plan to remove the dementors by Sirius letting himself be seen far away from the Castle was a failure. And that was not acceptable, because things were only getting worse — she'd had a seizure pretty much the instant upon returning to school (welcome back!), and she'd been averaging about two a week ever since. A lot of the other kids weren't doing so great either, but it was kind of hard to worry about that too much when her own shite was going on. It was, just, exhausting.

Dorea was, finally, sick of this. It was time to do something drastic.

By this point, she was convinced there was something off with Ron Weasley's rat. It'd taken a lot of careful asking around, spread out over months, but there was absolutely no way that thing was a normal rat. The Weasley Twins claimed it had been Prefect Weasley's before Ron's, that he'd passed it down when Ron started school, and that it was the most boring pet in the history of ever — it mostly just sat around not doing anything, gorging itself when it was given food but mostly just... Dorea wasn't an expert, but that sounded like un-rat-like behaviour. Prefect Weasley claimed he'd found the rat out in the garden one day, in February '82 — only a couple months after the incident in Edinburgh, Dorea had noticed — scraggly and pathetic, he'd brought it inside to give it a bath and just ended up keeping it. He was shocked the thing was still alive, because it'd been an adult when he'd found it, and that was twelve years ago now — even magical breeds of rat didn't live that long and, besides its absurd longevity, Scabbers had never shown any sign of being anything but an ordinary rat.

Dorea had been sceptical when Sirius had first told her about all this, to put it mildly, but it was starting to sound unnervingly convincing. There was just something suspicious about that rat.

But she hadn't managed to get close enough to cast any analysis charms at the thing. Ron used to carry it around with him, in his pocket, but apparently Scabbers was ill — Ron was worried he didn't have the energy to keep away from people's pet cats anymore, so he and his roommates had put palings over their dorm room to keep cats out, and Scabbers was now kept in there at all times. Dorea could get into Gryffindor without too much trouble, just by asking a friend to let her in; getting up into the boys' rooms was another matter. She'd been turning over the problem ever since returning to school after break, but she hadn't managed to come up with a solution.

And Dorea had finally run out of patience. It was time to bring Liz in on it.

Unfortunately, Liz wasn't at breakfast. Dorea looked around for a couple minutes to be sure, and it could be hard to spot Liz in a crowd, but nope, didn't see her.

Well, shite. Had something happened? Dorea had been in the Hospital Wing since last evening, she could have missed something...

Nobody else had any clue where Liz was, so maybe she was just taking a mental health day — that didn't happen very often, sure, but having a release valve had made a minor observable improvement in her mood, so. (She honestly hadn't realised the days Liz was more withdrawn than usual were because of worsening depression, it was such a minor difference...) Oh well. Dorea could wait for a day or two, it was fine.

So she was a little surprised when Liz actually showed up for Transfiguration. Dorea hadn't expected her, she'd already been sitting with Padma and Lisa when Liz had walked in. Liz glanced around the room for a moment — eyes finding Dorea, noting that her table was already full — before settling into a seat next to Millie toward the back of the room.

Dorea noticed Liz wince as she sat, moving more stiffly and carefully than usual — right, so it was a physical health thing that'd slowed her down this time. Probably took a nasty bludger hit in quidditch practice or something...

As reasonable as that guess was, she figured out she was wrong when they got to lunch. After the double period — there weren't any significant mishaps, which was good, when transfigurations involving animals went badly they were sometimes very gross — she caught up with Liz on the way downstairs. She was moving more cautiously, occasionally grimacing just a little, very subtle but still in pain — clearly not bad enough for her to bother going to Pomfrey, but all the same. She also seemed paler than usual, which, given that this was Liz, was saying something. (Dorea herself was paler than Liz, but not by very much.) She hardly spoke the whole way down to the Great Hall, only responding when she was directly addressed, and that with no more than a word or two, obviously uncomfortable. Sitting at the Ravenclaw table, Liz put a few things on her plate as usual, and then let out a groan, pushing the plate away so she could rest her head on the table instead. From the angle Dorea had, she could tell Liz had pressed a hand against herself, low over her hips, gently kneading with her fingers.

Oooohhhh. Right, Dorea got it now.

Reaching back to pick up her bag, she shuffled around in one of the pockets, finding her potion stash. Careful to hold it out of sight under the table, she pulled out a tiny little phial, the potion inside pink with the slightest tint of blue. Holding it over Liz's lap, she whispered, "For cramps."

Liz twitched, her head turning in Dorea's direction — couldn't make out her face, but her hair shifting around a little suggested as much, at least. There was a delay of a few seconds, but eventually Liz took the phial from her. She sat up with obvious reluctance, her hair parting enough to reveal the grimace on her face, downed the potion as quickly as possible, trying not to let anyone see. Even so, Dorea could tell from the glances across the table that Tracey and Padma had both recognised the potion, but neither of them moved to say anything — Liz could be so terribly sensitive about things sometimes, Dorea assumed neither of them wanted to risk embarrassing her.

The phial clinked as she set it down next to her empty nutrient potion. (Apparently she hadn't made it to breakfast.) Avoiding her eyes, Liz muttered, "Thanks."

"Sure. You really should try to eat something. Those sausages, at least." Liz ate terribly at the best of times, but mashed potatoes and sausages actually wasn't a bad idea when she happened to be losing blood at the moment.

A little reluctantly, Liz pulled her plate closer — then immediately shoved it away again with a little groan. "Does it take longer for that potion to help with the nausea?"

...Oh. "Um, I don't think it helps with that at all, actually. I didn't realise, I don't get nausea." In fact, she hadn't even realised that was a thing — it wasn't like she went around asking all the girls she knew how they felt on their periods, but. She would wonder if it was just because it was kind of gross, but Liz wasn't particularly squeamish. She was pretty sure the muscle relaxant in the potion actually caused nausea as a side effect, so, oops? "You really should try to eat something, though. With all the little injuries you get at duelling practice, even losing a little bit really isn't good for you — healing charms don't replenish the blood you lost, you know." She tactfully avoided pointing out that Liz was tiny to begin with, which didn't help either.

Rubbing at her forehead with one hand, Liz let out a little, frustrated groan. "The grease on the sausage is grossing me out right now. I think I saw chicken over there?"

Liz did manage to eat several bites of shredded chicken on toast, drizzled with some kind of white sauce, but it was clear watching that every single bite was a struggle, with long hesitations and breaks to sip at water or just sit there rubbing at her forehead. (Did she have a headache too? The potion probably wouldn't have helped with that either...) She'd cleared barely half of her plate before she shoved it away, resting her head on the table again.

Unthinkingly, Dorea reached over to gently rub Liz on the back, only realising as Liz tensed that she probably shouldn't have done that. But Liz relaxed after a second, and didn't tell her to stop, so she didn't.

Dorea never did get around to asking they talk in private before it was time to leave for class again. It could wait until Liz was feeling better.

Except, the longer the day went on, the more Dorea grew convinced that that simply wasn't going to happen. It was another theory day in Defence, more about hinkypunks and other bog creatures, which Liz completely ignored, her head down on her desk the whole time. (Remus glanced at Liz now and then, could obviously tell something was wrong, but he just left her alone — the one time he'd asked her a question, that time about grindylows, she'd said the best way to avoid them was to not bumble around in a lake like an idiot...but she was getting full marks on the written work, so, he'd apparently decided it wasn't worth the bother.) It was also a theory day in Charms — they were talking about motivation and spell polarisation as background working up to learning the Cheering Charm, which was a light spell — and Liz once again spent most of it with her head down, only looking up temporarily to answer a single question from Flitwick. (Flitwick didn't do anything about Liz not paying attention either, he too obviously realising she was having a bad day, Dorea guessed he'd only asked the question to confirm she already knew what they were studying anyway.) Herbology was hands-on work, of course, so Liz couldn't just check out the whole time.

Liz was still pairing with Tracey, and Dorea and Terry were a few tables away, so she couldn't keep an eye on her the whole time — but when she did glance that way now and then, Liz still looked obviously unwell, too-pale face locked in an unpleasant grimace, sweat visibly beading down her neck and along her hairline.

Which meant Dorea had a problem. She really wanted to talk to Liz about this as soon as possible — the sooner they talked about it, the sooner Liz might be able to come up with something, the sooner they could get the damn dementors out of the Valley — but she also didn't want to bother Liz with it when she was having a bad day. It was kind of a lot she'd be asking Liz to take on faith, and she didn't— It was a big problem, that was all, she didn't know how Liz would take it even on a good day. But it could be a few days until Liz was completely back to normal, and who knew what could happen by then?

Well, with how often she'd been getting them, she'd probably have another seizure in that time. The point was, anything could happen, the longer she put it off the more likely it was that something could come up. Sirius could get unlucky and get himself captured, for all she knew. (That would get rid of the dementors, but...) So the sooner the better, she probably shouldn't have put off getting help this long to begin with.

Or, if she didn't want to bother Liz, she could talk to Snape. But Snape was, well, Snape, she didn't want to bring it to him until she was absolutely certain she had something.

There would be no point to waiting for a better time, because as terrible as everything was these days, she had no idea whether she'd get a better one. Liz might not be in the best frame of mind to deal with anything but, well, Dorea was exhausted too, they both just had to deal with it.

Liz and Tracey were, as usual, slower getting out of Herbology than most of the rest of them, Dorea waited just outside for them. It was cold out here, but the enchantments on the greenhouses gave off enough heat it wasn't so bad. And thankfully they were only a minute or two behind Dorea — Liz didn't seem surprised to find Dorea waiting for them, continuing on toward the front doors without pause, Dorea silently slipping in to walk with them.

When they were in the Entrance Hall — noisy with dozens of people going this way or that, a roar beginning to build in the Great Hall even so early into the dinner hour — Dorea stopped, snagging Liz by the elbow. "Let's go down to the kitchens. Chicken soup might be a good idea, and we can ask if they have your ice cream."

Liz hesitated, but just for a second, agreeing with a nod and a little sigh. Dorea suspected she'd planned on shutting herself up in her room and just not going to dinner at all, but she really should eat something...

Tracey tagged along with them, which wasn't really a surprise — Dorea still didn't know what had happened between them, but Tracey was pretty much always around since they'd gotten back to school in September. Not a surprise, but slightly irritating, since Dorea had intended to talk to Liz privately. After a moment of thought, she decided it wasn't that big a deal if Tracey listened in. They weren't exactly close, but at the very least she knew Tracey could keep a secret — she was a Slytherin, and she'd known Liz was a mind mage for...Dorea didn't know how long, actually, which was kind of the point. It might be awkward, but wouldn't do any damage, she didn't think.

The elves were their usual accommodating selves, before long the three of them were sitting at the end of one of the tables with their dinner. As expected, they'd had chicken soup waiting to be served up — it could only very rarely be found upstairs, but Dorea knew one of the professors asked for it frequently, so the elves always had some waiting. (Dorea didn't know which, she'd only learned they kept the soup on hand through rumour.) Not wanting to eat anything that might turn Liz's stomach just being around, Dorea had also asked for soup, and Tracey had ended up with chicken and potatoes and peas with gravy, probably thinking the same thing.

The meal passed mostly silently, only a rare comment now and then — Liz wasn't much for smalltalk even on the best of days, and Dorea and Tracey weren't exactly close. In another situation, the quiet might make Dorea a little uncomfortable, but by this point she was far more accustomed to, just, not talking, Liz being the way she was. She waited until Liz had gotten down as much of the soup as she was going to manage, swapped out for a (smaller than usual) bowl of her inedibly bitter ice cream, before Dorea drew her wand and cast a few privacy palings over their edge of the table. The elves noticed, a few brief glances turning their way for a second, but they clearly didn't mind, just went back to their business.

Not that Dorea thought it really mattered if the elves overheard, but just in case.

Liz and Tracey were both giving her curious looks, Liz's eyes beginning to narrow with suspicion — probably realising just now that Dorea hadn't only brought them here to make sure Liz actually ate something. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"The palings kind of gave that away, Dorea."

Dorea shot Tracey an exasperated glance. "It's sort of a... I have a problem, a big one. I've been trying to deal with it on my own for a few months now, but I've hit a wall, I can't do it myself. And it's also a secret — you can't tell anyone. Hermione or Daphne would be fine, I guess, but it can't go any further than that. I haven't done anything illegal, but there are other people who might be hurt if this goes badly."

Suddenly looking a little uncomfortable, Tracey asked, "Should I leave?"

"You don't have to. I did intend to talk to Liz about this alone, but it's fine." Tracey looked a little sceptical, but she shrugged, turned back to her pudding.

"You're worried I'll be annoyed with you," Liz said, matter-of-fact — in that annoyingly perceptive way she had sometimes. "Why?"

With a sheepish shrug, "I might have done something...a little reckless. I remember I promised you I wouldn't run into danger like an idiot, and I didn't even tell anyone where I was... Well, even at the time I was aware what I was doing was stupid, but I didn't have any better ideas of what to do. Just, let me get through the whole thing, and try not to be too annoyed with me for keeping it a secret, I guess."

"Dorea, I'm already annoyed with everything right now, I doubt whatever you're going to say will make it worse."

...Fair enough. Starting off a little reluctantly, but easing into it as she went, Dorea explained how she'd sent a note off to Sirius, shortly after the quidditch match the dementors had interrupted, to arrange a meeting. Liz was, indeed, annoyed — less for sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet a wanted mass murderer alone, and more because there were dementors on the grounds. And apparently that was the bigger issue, she relaxed a little bit when Dorea reassured her that they'd met at the greenhouses, she hadn't really gone out on the grounds at all. Of course, that still meant she was meeting a wanted mass murderer alone, but the other girls mostly just seemed to think that was funny. They probably assumed that, being her father, Sirius wouldn't have actually hurt her.

Dorea had assumed as much herself, of course, but it'd still been unnerving. Sirius had been...volatile — Azkaban did shite to your head. The longer he was away from the dementors, the more he should recover, but it would take time, when they'd met he'd still been obviously unstable. So, weird, Tracey, meeting her father had mostly just been weird, and awkward, it'd been, well.

Anyway, she then explained the plan they'd come up with for Sirius to lure the dementors away from Hogwarts, while Dorea took care of what he was after in here. (But it hadn't actually worked, because Fudge was a stubborn bastard.) So then she had to explain Sirius's claims of being totally innocent — few of her friends believed he'd been a Death Eater, but it was widely assumed that the story of him blowing up that street in Edinburgh was true — about Pettigrew actually being responsible...and Pettigrew being an animagus, and also Ron Weasley's pet rat. And getting through this part was rather embarrassing, because she was aware how completely—

"You realise that's completely mad, right?"

Dorea sighed. "Yes, Tracey, I'm aware. But there is something off about that rat. Percy Weasley found the thing back in February of Eighty-Two, you know, and it's still alive — rats simply don't live that long."

Looking a little taken aback by that little fact, mouth half-open and eyes blinking, it took Tracey a moment to find her voice. Liz didn't fill the silence herself, stiff and silent, glaring off into the distance, her fingers impatiently tapping at the table. "Okay, that is odd. You're sure you're not mistaken?"

"I asked Percy himself."

"...Huh." Tracey paused a moment, frowning in thought. "It is possible Pettigrew was an animagus, I guess. The Pettigrews are related to— Well, that doesn't matter," she said, sounding a little embarrassed for doing the pureblood I have all the family trees memorised thing, "point is, he could definitely have had the trait. He wasn't registered, though, and how does Black know it's Weasley's of all rats?"

"Fudge had the paper on him at his last inspection of the prison, Sirius ended up getting it off him — said he was bored, you know." Thinking about it, it was possible Fudge had a guilty conscience, giving Sirius something to read one day while locked up was literally the least he could do. "There were plenty of articles back then about the Weasleys, after Ginny died, you know, said he recognised Pettigrew in one of them. They learned it together in the first place — I know Sirius isn't registered either, but he can turn into a dog, I've seen him do it. James learned it too, he could turn into a stag."

Liz didn't react to that at all, either she was too preoccupied by whatever she was thinking about over there or she'd already heard it from elsewhere. James hadn't been registered either, but it had been common knowledge in the Order, Snape certainly knew. Though, she really couldn't imagine Snape spent a lot of time telling Liz about her father...

"They were pretty young when it all happened, were they still in school when they figured out the transformation? Black and Potter were talented, sure, but I haven't heard the same about Pettigrew."

"They were motivated." Dorea hesitated for a second, but it was really pretty easy to figure out, and she doubted either of them would care. "They did it to keep Remus company on the full moon. Because animagi are immune to the Curse, you know."

Tracey frowned. "Um, they're not immune, actually. Wilderfolk are immune, but animagi can become werewolves just fine — their animal becomes a werewolf, actually, though they're only contagious on the full moon. Werewolves just instinctively recognise animagi as something like themselves, and are less likely to attack."

"That's...not what I heard."

"Then you heard wrong. I've met a werewolf animagus before — I won't tell you who, they're not in either registry, just trust me. Animagi are definitely not immune to the Curse."

...Huh. Remus claimed Sirius and James had kind of corralled him, kept him in the forest where they wouldn't bother anyone. While it was possible James had never been bitten — he would have had big bloody antlers to put between the two of them, so — Sirius certainly would have been. Even if it were just, you know, play bites, but anything that breaks the skin even a little bit should pass on the Curse. But Sirius's animagus form still looked like a dog, so he couldn't have caught it. (And it would be kind of hard to hide lycanthropy while in Azkaban.) If Tracey was correct, and she certainly seemed to have good reason to think she was, that shouldn't be possible.

Dorea guessed it was possible Sirius in particular was immune — the Blacks had done all kinds of strange blood alchemy on themselves over the centuries, maybe something conflicted with the Curse. Sufficiently powerful mages, sorcerers and immortals and the like, were also immune, so it was possible he'd just managed to resist it...though he would have been young at the time... Whatever, that detail wasn't actually important. "Well, never mind that just now. The point is, Sirius is certain Pettigrew is a rat animagus, and that he looks exactly like Ron Weasley's pet rat. And there is definitely something weird about that rat, but I haven't gotten close enough to confirm anything. That's what I need help with, I don't know what to do from here."

After a short pause, Tracey glancing at Liz — Liz didn't seem to notice, still glaring off at nothing, fingers tapping — Tracey said, "I don't mean to be cruel, Dorea, but I think it's more likely your father lost the plot. They did find Pettigrew's body, you know."

"No, they didn't."

Tracey blinked, turned a raised eyebrow at Liz — as surprised as Dorea, that was the first time Liz had spoken in a while. "Pretty sure they did...?"

"They found a finger, not a body. And his robes. Intact. After a gas fire."

While Tracey hissed out a curse, Dorea frowned at Liz. Had she looked into the incident in Edinburgh? She hadn't said anything about it... "Yes, exactly. And Scabbers is missing a finger."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tracey groaned. She leaned over, her forehead clunking against the table, her hands folding over the back of her head. There was a bit of muttering, but it was too quiet and muffled, Dorea didn't catch it.

"Can't say I'm surprised, honestly." Liz must be responding to whatever Tracey had said — calling the Ministry incompetent idiots, maybe? "So, you want me to check out Ronald's stupid bloody rat."

"Yeah, that's the idea. How much, um, what's the range on your mind magic like? Though, apparently the third years are all the way up on the top floor, I don't know if you'll be able to reach from the common room..."

Liz scowled. "No, and I can't see in from the stairs either. I could have before, but McGonagall put anti-scrying wards over the Gryffindor dorms now, I can't see through the walls anymore."

...Implying she could have before, of course. Dorea didn't give Liz's mind magic much thought most of the time, especially when she wasn't actually around reminding her about it, it'd never occurred to her that Liz might be able to read her mind from another room. Though she had said that the Slytherin dorms and bathrooms already had wards over them, so she probably couldn't, actually, never mind. "Maybe we could put a memory from when Ron still carried the thing around in your pensieve?" That Liz could read people's minds in a pensieve was unnerving too — she could simply copy a memory and read everyone's minds at her leisure and nobody would ever know, no one's thoughts were private whenever Liz was around — but Dorea tried not to think about it.

"No, too crowded." Liz took a last bite of her ice cream, dropped her spoon — from enough of a height that it rattled against the table a little, but she'd licked it clean, didn't make a mess — and pushed herself up to her feet. A little slowly and stiffly, her hand jumping to her abdomen with a grimace, hissing through her teeth. "Come on." She turned and walked off, steps wooden and awkward, fists clenched at her sides.

...Okay, then. Dorea and Tracey shared a glance, Tracey giving her a helpless shrug, and they both stood to follow.

Without a word, Liz returned to the Entrance Hall, but instead of continuing on she turned into the Great Hall. There was a faint tingle in the air for a second — doing something with mind magic, maybe? — and Liz started off toward the Hufflepuff table. Hermione was about a third of the way down, sitting with Lily, Susan, Hannah, and Wayne. (Dorea tried not to stare at Susan and Hannah — it hadn't stopped being weird that they were dating now.) Coming to a stop right behind Hermione, Liz leaned over a little, probably so she wouldn't have to raise her voice as much, and said, "I need your help with something. Now."

Hermione turned to look at Liz over her shoulder, giving her a crooked sort of confused look. Dorea might have expected her to ask what this was about first, but instead she just shrugged. "All right. I'll meet you up in the library once we're done with whatever this is," she said to the others, moving to stand up. She plucked a bun up off of her plate, Liz turned and started off again, the rest of them following behind her.

Dorea had a pretty good idea why Liz had stopped to get a Gryffindor — she should probably do something about this, this wasn't going to end well...

As soon as they were away from the crowd, Hermione asked what this was about, but Liz didn't answer, still steadily plodding up the stairs (stiffly, clearly still uncomfortable). So Dorea filled Hermione in along the way, Tracey occasionally 'contributing' a sarcastic comment. Hermione wasn't really surprised that Sirius might be completely innocent — she'd looked into the incident at Edinburgh herself, pointed out that Sirius never had been given a trial — but was more sceptical that Ron's pet rat might be Pettigrew. But not necessarily out of practical concerns, mostly just because pretending to be a rat for twelve years sounded terribly boring.

(Sometimes Dorea thought Hermione was really very strange, just compared to Liz most people didn't tend to notice.)

But she was willing to play along, enough that when Liz stopped in front of the Fat Lady Hermione offered the password, assuring the portrait that she just wanted to show her friends something in her room.

The Gryffindor common room (still very red) was rather emptier than it might have been, the dinner hour still going on and others away at evening classes — there were a few residents hanging around, but only maybe a dozen. A few people gave them suspicious looks, since Slytherins weren't often seen in Gryffindor, but most went right back to whatever they were doing after a second. Liz walked straight across the room without slowing down, heading unerringly for the boys' stairs — they weren't labelled, but Dorea had been here before — without pausing to ask which was which. Either Liz had gotten it out of Hermione's head or...

Actually, come to think of it, hadn't there been something about Liz showing up out of nowhere to intervene when Brown and Padma's sister had been bullying her, back in autumn? Dorea had never been told exactly what happened there, but, yeah, she was pretty sure Liz had been here before too. Never mind.

They finally did get a reaction when Liz stepped onto the boys' stairs, started on the way up — Hermione hesitated for a second before following, but Dorea hung back, uncertain. For one thing, stealing Ron's pet out of his room was...a bit much. When she'd gone to Liz, she'd expected— Well, she wasn't sure what she'd expected, but not breaking into other students' rooms. Also, well, they were the boys' rooms, they weren't supposed to be up there. (That they kind of weren't supposed to be in the Gryffindor dorm in the first place was beside the point.) Liz hadn't paused for a second, and it didn't seem to bother Tracey either, but she assumed that was why Hermione had paused, and... Well, it was just uncomfortable, that was all.

An older boy, Dorea didn't remember his name off-hand, stood up, started toward them, calling out, "Hey, what are you doing? Those go up to—"

There was a landing halfway up toward the ceiling, looking down over the common room, if it was anything like the girls' side containing a door leading out to a wide balcony hugging the outside of the tower. Liz had just reached that first landing when the boy spoke, she paused for a moment to lean over the railing. "Shut up." Her voice seemed heavier than usual, deeper, hanging on the air longer, the air around Dorea's head feeling too thick, almost like she were underwater (though not quite that thick). Tingles running down the back of her neck, all the conversation in the room abruptly cut off, the only sound footsteps on the stairs and the murmuring of voices on the radio.

Oh, for crying out— Well now Dorea had to follow them upstairs, she couldn't stay down here alone after Liz had just openly compelled the whole room.

(Wasn't her being a mind mage supposed to be a secret? Hadn't she realised what— Oh, bringing this to her when she'd already been in a bad mood had been a terrible idea...)

The rest of the walk continued without incident, only briefly needing to wait for fifth-year (and former seeker) Kenneth Towler to clear the way for them to pass — he gave them odd looks as they passed by, confused, but didn't try to stop them or say anything. (Dorea was still catching up, but she didn't think Liz had compelled him out of the way.) By the time they got to the top, Dorea was a little out of breath, her legs burning — there were too many bloody stairs in this place...

Somewhat to her surprise, Liz opened the door, and walked straight into the third-year boys' dorm room. She would have thought... Well, she didn't know, the dorms in Slytherin only let the owner inside (and Snape and the seventh-year prefects), supposedly there was something similar in the Ravenclaw dorms. (But not in Hufflepuff, because Hufflepuff.) She knew from Hermione that the girls' stairs wouldn't let boys up at all, and she'd just...kind of assumed there'd be some kind of security on the boys' rooms. But Liz just walked right in, so, apparently not.

(Dorea had thought the hazing in Slytherin could get bad sometimes, especially on the boys' side, but their bedrooms weren't even safe, it must be worse in Gryffindor...)

Hermione followed after Liz, but Tracey lingered outside, looking rather uncomfortable — Dorea knew from her lessons with Cassiopeia that the nobility could be very particular about spaces meant to be private being kept private. Going on the stairs hadn't bothered her, but apparently this was the line. Honestly, Dorea was mostly worried the boys' room would be a mess, or that one of them would be in there, and also they shouldn't even be here in the first place. And there was someone in there, squawking in surprise and then demanding to know what they were doing here, sounding rather flustered — before he abruptly went silent, probably compelled by Liz. That was Seamus, Dorea was almost certain. (She didn't talk to the Gryffindor boys much.) There was a short pause, less than a minute, before Liz was walking out again, started plodding down the stairs without a word.

Hermione was out a second later, looking a little stunned, face blank. "What is it, what happened?"

For a second, Hermione blinked at Tracey, before starting into motion with a twitch, thumping quickly down the stairs to catch up with Liz. "Liz says Scabbers has a human mind. She stunned him, put him in her bookbag. Come on, before we fall behind."

...Oh. Well. Dorea had kind of expected Scabbers wasn't a normal rat, but, somehow she didn't know how to feel about that anyway. It was just...big, that was all, she didn't...

Had Sirius really been innocent all along? She hadn't believed his story at the time, it'd all just sounded so completely mad, but now...

The common room was far more thoroughly occupied than it'd been on their first time through, residents returning from dinner, and it looked like the Gryffindors had been gearing up for a confrontation while they'd been upstairs. There were dozens of people standing around, shifting and muttering darkly to each other, Dorea noticed some of them even had wands drawn. The instant Liz reached the common room, there was an eruption of shouting, people demanding to know what the hell she thought she was doing, coming in here and compelling people and breaking into the boys'—

"Stop."

Dorea froze. She didn't choose to do it, she just— Her head abruptly went cold and blank, she stopped in mid step, she was hardly even breathing, unpleasant hot-cold tingles sweeping over her skin, she—

Liz glanced over her shoulder, vibrant green eyes faintly sparkling in the firelight. "Sorry—" The ice broke, Dorea wrenching into motion again, sucking in a ragged gasp, staggering a step, her head spinning. "—I didn't mean you. Come on."

Dorea kind of didn't want to, if she was being honest. Being released from Liz's compulsion had brought thoughts and feelings roaring back, enough she was a little dizzy, panic bubbling in her chest — she'd known Liz was a mind mage, of course, but Liz had never actually done anything like that to her before. She hadn't thought she— She'd trusted Liz not to mess with her mind, maybe take a peek now and then, but— And it was seriously bloody creepy, Liz had compelled the entire common room full of Gryffindors all at once, the room around them gone eerily silent, everyone still as statues, with only a couple exceptions, older students, fisted hands shaking as they tried to fight the compulsion off. She'd known Liz was a mind mage, obviously, she'd seen her put a troll to sleep, but overpowering dozens of people at once...

Dorea had never been legitimately frightened of Liz before. She didn't like it.

But she also didn't want to be the only Slytherin left in the room when the spell wore off, so she followed anyway, her knees weak and the back of her shoulders itching.

It was, just, bloody unsettling, walking through the room of unnaturally still people, eyes glaring out at them — Tracey was clearly as unnerved as Dorea was, Hermione frowning at the people around them, biting her lip, hands nervously wringing. As they went, a few other people staggered back into motion, gasping and coughing, muttering to each other. After first identifying Alicia Spinnet, Dorea realised Liz was releasing people she was familiar with, mostly people on the quidditch and duelling teams. None of the freed Gryffindors approached them, though there were a few uneasy looks in Liz's direction, the tone of the muttering not exactly pleasant-sounding.

Liz paused halfway across the room, looking through the crowd to the left. There was a sharp snap in the air, more felt than heard, ringing in Dorea's head, a couple older students (must have been fighting off the compulsion) dropping their wands, one even losing balance to stumble against a bookshelf, falling stiffly to the floor. As she started moving again, she pointed off to the right, "You, come with us."

It wasn't until they'd clambered through the exit — the air in the hallway feeling cooler and calmer, though Dorea still didn't relax (Liz was out here with her, after all) — that Dorea realised Liz had been talking to Ron Weasley.

They walked through the halls, following Liz silently and awkwardly, nobody speaking a word. Dorea didn't know about the others, but she was too nervous to, and she had the feeling Ron simply wasn't capable of speaking at the moment — he wasn't a particularly quiet person, and she didn't imagine he'd just meekly follow Liz along if she were giving him any choice in the matter. It was eerie, honestly, Ron steadily placing one step after the other, blankly staring forward, just, creepy. And apparently other people realised how weird this was, some of the people they passed shooting them confused looks. Ron's very annoying feud with Liz wasn't exactly a secret, they wouldn't be expected to be in the same place at the same time without shouting at each other — though nobody said anything or tried to stop them, apparently not so suspicious that they assumed something...unusual was happening.

(Or maybe Liz was compelling them to ignore it, it was impossible to say...)

They were partway through a shortcut Dorea hadn't known about — a perfectly ordinary spiral staircase, an occasional window looking out over the courtyard, but it'd been sealed with Parseltongue, Liz must have stumbled across it at some point — when Liz let out a harsh scoff, glancing at Ron over her shoulder. "It's not black magic, you fucking idiot. I'm a mind mage. Since I was nine. Or I could have made you jump off the Astronomy Tower — I even thought about it, but Severus would have guessed it was me." Another wave of cold tingles crawled along Dorea's shoulders, nearly missed a step and fell down the bloody stairs, what the hell, Liz... "No, honestly, you're still on about that? Because you annoy me and your sister didn't, that's why."

"Liz," Tracey trawled, sounding faintly amused (for some unfathomable reason), "maybe tone down the amoral mind mage act? You're scaring the locals."

Finally coming to the bottom of the stairs (this castle had far too many stairs), Liz glanced back at them again, eyes flicking to Hermione, them Dorea over her shoulder. "Sorry. I wouldn't have actually done it, it's just really frustrating having to deal with him all the time." She shrugged, unrepentant, as though this person annoys me sometimes was somehow a perfectly reasonable justification to fantasise about murdering them — honestly, Liz, did she realise what she was saying? Apparently not, because she went on without another word, as though she hadn't just said anything at all concerning, opened the exit to the passage and stiffly walked down the hallway outside.

The shortcut had brought them to the ground floor, not far from Helga's Gallery, Liz steered them toward Slytherin. She hissed to open the door into the dorms rather than use the actual password — Dorea wasn't certain Liz even knew what it was — once inside immediately turned toward Snape's office. The door was hanging open a crack, but the light was low, hardly noticeable against the illumination of the common room. They were getting a few odd looks but, again, nobody did anything about it — until they approached the door, someone (Dorea didn't see who) called out, "Snape's still at dinner."

Liz ignored them, pushing the door open wider and stepping inside. There was a low fire in the hearth, but the lamps had been put out, Snape's office left in wavering light and jumping shadows. While Liz continued straight across the room, Hermione asked, "Snape has an office connected to the common room?"

"Sure. Doesn't McGee?"

"Well, yes, but she's never there." Of course she wasn't — McGonagall might be the better teacher (or at least the more pleasant one), but she was widely regarded to be a pretty terrible Head of House. "And he just leaves the door unlocked?"

"Most of the time, yeah. There's a beacon on the shelf over there, he'll hear it anywhere in the castle, and it's not like anyone's suicidal enough to mess with his things. And the door into his apartments—" Liz reached the door on the opposite side of the office, and tapped the surface with her wand, a deep, reverberating boom echoing in the air. Tracey winced. "Locked. The door into his apartments is always locked."

Liz tapped the door again, making another surprisingly loud noise, Hermione's hands jumping halfway up to her ears before catching herself. "Um, Liz," Dorea muttered, her voice sounding shaky even to her own ears, "maybe you shouldn't..."

"Do you have a better idea?" Boom.

Well, no, not really — Snape almost certainly knew a spell to force an animagus back into human form, and he'd know what to do after, but...

"How do you know he's even in there?" Hermione asked.

Boom. "He was at lunch," said as though that were an answer to the question, which it wasn't, really. Liz waited for a few seconds, raised her wand to—

The door was wrenched open, revealing Snape, tense and glaring, mouth already open to begin shouting at whoever had been pounding on his door — but he immediately froze, frowning down at Liz. "Elizabeth, what are—" He sighed, eyes flicking up to the ceiling for a second, Dorea felt a prickle of magic on the air. Ron gasped, staggered to the side, hitched up against a bookshelf, shaking. "Must we have another talk about compelling your classmates?" Another talk? What the hell had the first one been over?

Liz shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "He wouldn't come if I just asked him. Especially since I took his rat."

"You took Scabbers? What are—"

"He's an animagus."

"Oh come off it! Scabbers isn't a— She's gone mad, Snape, you aren't going to—" Ron abruptly cut off, seeming to choke on air.

"Elizabeth." And then Ron regained the ability to speak again, but he didn't actually say anything, leaning gasping against the bookshelf, staring at Liz wide-eyed and horrified. If Ron hadn't thought Liz was an evil dark witch before (which he had), he would definitely be convinced of it now — honestly, Liz, was she thinking at all?

"Sorry, he wasn't going to shut up," she said, shrugging again. Reaching into her bag, "Besides, 'Scabbers' is human. Go on, look." She held the unconscious rat in the palm of her hand, proffered up halfway between them.

Snape had looked stern and intimidating a moment ago, visibly annoyed with Liz interrupting whatever he'd been doing in there and casually compelling fellow students, but the instant his eyes dropped down to Scabbers the expression was wiped away. His face went perfectly blank, for a couple seconds he was still, hardly even seeming to breathe. The air around Dorea went cold, prickling against her skin like a winter wind — she backed up two steps before she caught herself, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. She didn't know what the hell that was, but the others could clearly feel it too, Ron pressing himself closer against his bookshelf, Tracey gone stiff and rigid, Hermione grimacing.

If whatever that was bothered Liz at all, she gave absolutely no sign of it.

After a few seconds, Snape muttered, his voice slow and quiet and icey, "How?"

"Dorea met with Sirius, a few months ago—" Snape's eyes flicked to Dorea for a blink, but otherwise didn't react to the revelation that one of his students had been sneaking out to have secret meetings with wanted mass murderers. "—and he told her that Ron Weasley's pet rat was Peter Pettigrew."

His eyes tipping up to the ceiling, the chill on the air finally easing a tad, Snape let out a harsh, bitter sigh. "Of course he did. Miss Davis, Miss Granger, why are you here?"

"Um, I let Liz into Gryffindor, sir. She, ah, might have compelled the whole house to let us through. A little bit."

"It was maybe a quarter." Oh like that was any better, Liz, that's still over fifty people — all at once! Did she have any idea how absurd that was?! Normal mind mages didn't go around controlling dozens of people at the same time! (It was honestly a little terrifying, Dorea was trying not to think about it too hard, since Liz was standing right there and would feel her panicking.) "And that was technically an enthrallment, not a compulsion."

Sounding a little exasperated, Snape asked, "And do you believe the residents of Gryffindor will recognise the difference?"

"Well, no, I'm just saying. I know everyone is going to know I'm a mind mage now, but I couldn't think of another way to do it, and it's worth everyone being stupid about that to get rid of the damn dementors."

"You might have alerted me instead. I would have brought it to Minerva, and we would have inspected the dorms together."

"And how likely was she to let you inspect her students' dorms solely on the word of an escaped mass murderer?"

Snape sighed. "Miss Davis?"

"What? Oh! I have nothing to do with any of this, I just happened to be there when Dorea told Liz about it."

"Very well. Miss Davis, go about your business; the rest of you, inside."

Snape stepped back out of the way, holding the door wider open — apparently they were taking care of this inside of his rooms, which, okay then, she'd never been in here before... — Liz walked through immediately, quickly followed by Hermione, but Ron and Tracey both hesitated. "Can I at least stay long enough to find out if it's really Pettigrew?"

"I'm certain your friends will inform you when next you see each other. Unless you wish to be interviewed by the Aurors as a witness."

"Right, thank you, Professor." Tracey sidled to the side, slipped between Dorea and Ron, and then walked off without another word. Looked like Tracey really didn't want to have to talk to the Aurors, though Dorea had no idea why that was. Pick a reason, really.

Once Tracey was out of the way, Dorea followed Liz and Hermione. Ron didn't come through right away, Snape ended up grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him inside, Ron shouting protests along the way. "Set it down, on the carpet there."

Snape's sitting room, at least, also seemed perfectly ordinary, if uncommonly clean and orderly. There were a couple armchairs and a sofa arranged around a coffee table — Dorea noticed a plate and a wine glass arranged on the table, Snape must have been eating privately (though if he'd been this close she wondered what'd taken him so long to answer the door) — sitting before a low-burning hearth, bookshelves and cabinets along the walls, the wallpaper and carpet and upholstery done in black, the wood rosey, gleaming golden red in the firelight. There was a sort of kitchenette space in one corner, though very basic, not equipped for much more than storing biscuits and preparing coffee or tea. The lighting was dim, darker than the common room, but not uncomfortably so, could probably read in here without too much trouble.

Liz set the rat down on the carpet, in one of the larger open spaces in the room, a couple feet behind the sofa. Ron was still noisily insisting that Liz had lost her mind, Scabbers couldn't be an animagus, he was just a rat, been in the family forever, just let him take him and go, his mother would— Snape snapped his fingers, a ripple of magic crossing the air, Ron abruptly went quiet but his mouth was still moving, a silencing charm. "Your mother will, I am certain, be horrified to learn her youngest son's pet rat has been an animagus all along — I suspect the Ministry will be forced to post additional security in their holding cells to prevent Molly from murdering him in a rage." He cast some kind of a spell, golden light shimmering over all six sides of the room, the doors further inside closing themselves with a snap, the glow brighter and more whitish at the seams, just for a second before vanishing again. Some kind of sealing ward, maybe? "Now, contain yourselves for five seconds, if you can manage such a feat. I need to concentrate."

For a brief moment, Snape stared down at the rat, wand held loose at his side, his eyes narrowed in concentration. His wand slowly raised, and then cast a charm with a sharp jab, a bright blue spellglow zipping straight at the rat — the charm took with a crackle of interference, sparks sizzling across the air, the rat's form rippled, and—

Dorea gasped, she heard Ron let out a shout, staggering back and tripping over his own feet, falling on his arse. Lying on the floor where Scabbers had been a second ago was a man, shrouded in tattered, filthy robes. The rat had been belly-down, so he was too, Dorea couldn't make out his face from this angle, only his hair, a thin, light brown streaked with patches of silver, a bald patch growing on the top of his head — he couldn't be Pettigrew, then, he was far too young for his hair to start changing. Though, that would be bloody absurd, if Sirius was right about Scabbers being an animagus but it was the wrong person, what were the chances of that?

The man had been woken up by the change, lowly groaning — forced transfigurations could be quite painful sometimes — Snape flipped him over onto his back with a sideways flick of his wand. Ron let out another curse with their first look at his face, pale and patched with sores and scars, pointed nose and buck teeth, small blue eyes watering with pain. He was a very unpleasant-looking bloke, almost half a rat even when in human form, and he must have some kind of skin condition or something, because that was not healthy.

Unfocused eyes blinking, the man let out a little gasp, tensing, when he made out Snape standing over him, wand pointed steadily at his face. Low, in a smooth, frigid tone Dorea recognised from when someone did something dangerously stupid in Potions class, Snape drawled, "Hello, Peter." The man opened his mouth, but before he could even get a breath out a reddish-purple spellglow struck him in the chest, and he fell unconscious.

"So it is him," Liz said.

"But it can't be. I mean, he's too old — he should be your age, Professor, but he looks a lot older than that." Also, Dorea had seen pictures of Peter Pettigrew before, and...well, if she tried to ignore the sores, and the teeth, he didn't look that far off, but...

"Mister Weasley," Snape started, as he crouched over the man's shoulder, peering down at his face, "has your rat seemed unwell as of late?"

It took Ron a moment to find his voice, his breath thin, he had to swallow a couple times to clear his throat. "Um, y-yeah, he– he's been losing a lot of weight, and patches of— He's really an animagus?"

"Yes, Mister Weasley, he's really an animagus. When did you first notice his health worsening?"

"Um..." Ron was gaping at the man, his face pale, making his freckles stand out clearer, his hair looking brighter in contrast. "Summer? Late summer, in August."

"After Black's escape was announced."

Ron's eyes flicked toward Dorea, but whatever he was thinking he only said, "Yeah."

Snape nodded. "Stress, I assume."

"You mean it's psychosomatic," Hermione said. "This seems like...a bit much, for that."

"Not as much as you may think. One's mental health can influence one's physical health, even in muggles, though this effect is far more pronounced in the presence of magic. Black was hardly the most temperate man in the best of circumstances — I would not be surprised should Pettigrew have feared his wrath so deeply that it began to affect his health. That could well explain the weight loss and the changes to his hair and skin. Magic makes it real, Miss Granger. You might have noticed Professor Lupin looks rather too old for his age as well."

"I thought that was..." Dorea hesitated, glanced at Ron. She had no idea whether the Gryffindors were aware Remus was a werewolf — Light families tended to be terrible about werewolves, so probably not. "...well, you know."

"Lupin's condition is a contributing factor to his mental state, which exacerbates the effects of the condition itself. You may not be aware of this, Miss Black, but there are thousands of people all over the world who live perfectly ordinary, healthy lives with Lupin's condition — and so long as they take certain precautions, there is little observable effect on their longevity." Dorea hadn't known that, actually, Remus was the only werewolf she'd ever met... "A similar effect can be blamed for this," he said, waving his wand over the man's face. "Spending so many years as a rat may have altered his fundamental identity, unconsciously creating permanent alterations to his form. The phenomenon has been observed with a variety of transfigurations and even cosmetic charms."

"Wouldn't that take blood alchemy?" Liz asked

"Or ritual — inhabiting a form for so long one begins to conceptualise it as one's true nature may be thought of as low ritual stripped to its very fundamentals."

"Huh. Neat." Of course she thought so — Liz was turning out to be a big a witchcraft nerd, she would naturally find the magic involved far more interesting than Ron Weasley's pet rat turning out to have been a person all this time...and maybe even... "So he is Peter Pettigrew, then."

Snape nodded. Still crouching over the man (actually Peter, Sirius really was innocent?), Snape's wand was moving in little flicks, casting some kind of magic. Analysis spells, maybe? "I've known the whiny, sycophantic imbecile even since we were both children — no matter what alterations have been done to it, I would know Peter Pettigrew's weaselly face anywhere." There was a twitch, Ron letting out a breath, but Dorea doubted he'd chosen that word for that reason, just, you know, he kind of looked like a weasel... "His thoughts when he recognised me were also indicative. I am certain it's him."

"So Sirius really was innocent all along."

"We don't yet know that for certain — it is possible that Black truly did cause that explosion in Edinburgh, and Pettigrew faked his death and went into hiding out of fear for his safety. I suspect, however, that the story Miss Black heard from her father — and we will be discussing that at a later time—" Of course, Dorea hadn't really expected Snape to ignore one of his students sneaking out to meet with wanted murderers. "—no matter how fantastical it may seem at face value, is nonetheless the truth." A flick of his wand, and Peter's arm rose, as though pulled up by the wrist, his sleeve was yanked down and—

Dorea felt herself gasp, echoed by more breathless cursing from Ron — the Dark Mark. Smooth and blotchy, like an old burn scar, but unmistakable.

Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater.

That meant... That meant...

Sirius really had been innocent the whole time. She hadn't...

Dorea hadn't expected this. She meant, when Sirius had told her the story, she... It'd seemed plausible, at least, unsettlingly plausible. Completely mad, of course, but it did make a kind of sense — there hadn't been any glaring, obvious holes in it, at least. She'd been told her whole life that Sirius definitely hadn't betrayed the Potters, but murdering the person who'd done it, and blowing up a whole street while he was at it, that that sounded exactly like the sort of thing that Sirius would do, so he should probably be in Azkaban anyway, while trying to get him a trial might set the record straight it—

Over these last few months, she'd realised that she wanted it to be true. It didn't have a lot to do with her, when it came down to it — before sneaking out to the greenhouses in November, she didn't remember Sirius at all — but obviously she would rather her father not be a mass murderer, if just on principle. Which, of course, once she'd realised that it'd immediately cast doubt on her own impression of the story, because who could say whether her feeling it was plausible was just because she wanted it to be true, and really, it did sound quite absurd, who the hell would stay as a rat for twelve years, maybe it was all—

But no. It was real, as real as the Dark Mark seared into Peter Pettigrew's skin.

And that was, just— It was huge, the looming truth cresting over her head, oh my god, this was actually happening, she could hardly breathe, she needed to sit down...

Liz glanced her way, gave her wand a flick, her lips twitching with an incantation Dorea couldn't hear over the wind rushing in her ears. What was that supposed to— Oh, she was levitating one of the armchairs over behind Dorea, that was nice of her...

(She was still an absolutely terrifying mind mage, like some serious Morrigan shite, but Dorea was trying not to think about that right now, her head could only fit so much at once...)

Liz blinked. "What's that, um, morrigan?"

Letting Peter's hand fall limp to the floor again, Snape looked up, dark eyes flicking between Liz and Dorea. "The Morrigan, or the Queen of Nightmares. She's an immortal mind mage, an intermittent resident of Ireland, one of the oldest and most powerful beings in existence. Elizabeth's feat in the Gryffindor common room," now directly speaking to Dorea and Ron, "is hardly indicative of such fantastical power. She performed an enthrallment, not a compulsion — enthrallment operates through the alteration of the ambient magic around a target, which is then drawn into a mind through contact, meaning it is far easier to influence multiple minds simultaneously. She would have needed to project herself through the entirety of the common room, which is impressive for a child her age, certainly, but hardly worthy of comparison with the Morrigan. Any mind mage of sufficient skill could replicate it."

"I did do a few compulsions, but only on the people who resisted it. And also to make Ronald follow us, obviously."

Looking a little exasperated, Snape nodded. "Again, nothing exceptional for a mind mage." He waved his wand, silvery mist blooming out of the tip, quickly coalescing into a life-size doe. Dorea let out a sigh, sinking deeper into the armchair. It was suddenly warm and soft and nice in here — of course, that was a Patronus, light magic could be like that. (Dorea was faintly surprised Snape could cast that kind of light magic at all, but she probably shouldn't be.) "Minerva. I have discovered one of your students has an animagus for a pet. Meet me in Albus's office as soon as possible. Bring the Head Boy." The Patronus leapt into motion, in a blink the deer had bounded away through the wall. Snape then immediately cast a second Patronus. "Albus. Black, apple seven. Potter, Black, Granger, Weasley. Nest, dragon, soonest." And then the second Patronus was gone, carrying off its message packed full of gibberish — Dorea assumed Snape and the Headmaster must have some kind of code they'd come up with in the war, which was a little silly, but the Headmaster was a little silly.

But then, once the second Patronus was gone, Snape cast a third. This one was to, "Amelia. This is Severus Snape. I have a fugitive in my custody. His identity will be embarrassing for Albus, and I'm afraid he may try to bury it. Please meet us in his office at Hogwarts, as soon as possible." And then this one vanished too, apparently running off to, she assumed, the Director of Law Enforcement — Dorea couldn't say she was surprised Snape was taking precautions, but still, what the hell.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Liz asked, as soon as it was clear Snape wasn't sending another Patronus-message.

"Theoretically, though I imagine you will find it quite difficult." Snape levitated up one of Pettigrew's hands, and then grabbed it with his free one, lacing their fingers together. "Do all of you know how to use the floo?"

Liz grimaced — a picture from a floo mishap had ended up in the Prophet over the summer; Dorea muttered, "Yes, sir," hearing the numb shock on her own voice; Ron muttered something she didn't quite make out, but he was nodding, so. After a short pause, Hermione admitted, "I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't. I've never needed to do it before."

"Of course." Snape paused for a moment, frowning in concentration, wand tip making little wavering wiggles over his and Peter's joined hands, lips twitching with an inaudible incantation — an extremely lengthy one, must technically be a litany of some kind. After some seconds, there was a harsh, electric twang on the air, burning orangeish bands of light appearing around each of their wrists. They began to fade immediately, by the time Peter's hand fell to the floor again they were gone. Some kind of binding spell, maybe, so he couldn't escape? "Miss Granger, stay behind. An elf will bring you up with Pettigrew. The rest of you, through the floo — 'Headmaster's Office' will suffice. Go."

Ugh, that meant Dorea had to stand up. She really didn't want to go anywhere right now — she was still kind of dizzy from, just, everything, and this chair was so comfortable...

፠

The rest of that day was a blur, and Dorea honestly didn't remember much.

Upon getting to Dumbledore's office — which was about as colourful and whimsical as she'd expected — Dorea collapsed into one of the chairs near the fire, watching the goings-on but not really paying that much attention. Snape conjured a table to put Peter on, they were already all set up by the time Dumbledore caught up, only a couple minutes ahead of McGonagall and Percy Weasley. McGonagall was appropriately horrified to learn there'd been an animagus Death Eater in Gryffindor for six and a half years and she'd never noticed.

Everyone was extra horrified when Ron, looking a little dazed, added in the fun fact that he usually slept with the rat in his bed — Percy looked a little ill, and McGonagall's fingers were making clenching motions at her hips, Dorea half expected her to start strangling Peter's unconscious body. Snape just looked disgusted, but whether that was at the thought of a grown man sneaking into the beds of underaged boys or just sleeping with a rat in his bed, Dorea couldn't guess.

They were still arguing about what the hell they were supposed to do with Peter, and what the implications of him having been a Death Eater all along were, when Amelia Bones stepped out of the floo. After a bit of talking, Bones and Dumbledore ended up in a shouting match, though she honestly didn't remember how that'd happened, or really what it was about — something to do with events at the end of the war, maybe?

She did remember the little curl of a smirk on Snape's face as he watched, clearly enjoying the show.

Bones, wisely, didn't trust any random DLE official to properly process Peter and get him secured in the Ministry's holding cells, where he'd be kept until a trial could be arranged, so instead Scrimgeour and Moody joined them in the Headmaster's office — which was starting to feel a little crowded by that point. That feeling wasn't helped by Moody losing his temper when he realised what was going on, kicking over one of the tables, little enchanted devices tumbling across the floor, and shouting at Dumbledore, sparks sizzling at the top of his wand, vicious magic filling the room hot and suffocating.

Sirius had been Moody's junior partner during the war, Dorea had heard. Apparently he was taking this very personally.

Scrimgeour left first, to notify certain important people — the Minister, department Directors, presumably somebody at the Prophet, Dorea had missed most of that talk. Soon after that Moody was gone, bringing Peter — still unconscious and tightly wrapped in magical bindings, the filaments glowing with red and black light — along with him, clenched tight to his side. Leaving Moody alone with Peter probably wasn't a great idea, but oh well, too late.

Dorea hadn't realised Liz wasn't doing well — pale, sweat beading on her forehead and her neck, face in a grimace — until Snape asked her if she was all right. They managed to get through that conversation tactfully, without explicitly saying what the problem was, but Dorea suspected everyone could tell anyway. (Dumbledore in particular was visibly uncomfortable, focussing on the DLE people and trying to pretend he couldn't hear.) Of course, you had to wait twelve hours between doses of her potion, and apparently it hadn't entirely gotten rid of Liz's cramps in the first place — which was a little concerning, it did for Dorea. Liz refused to go see Madam Pomfrey after they were done here, which, Dorea had assumed earlier it couldn't be that bad, but maybe she just really hated going to see the healer. That was a little, hmm, Dorea didn't know what to think about all that...

(Though, asking her for help on a day she was already miserable and frustrated probably hadn't been a great move.)

Bones herself interviewed them all — Dorea, Liz, Hermione, Ron, Percy, Snape — one by one, downstairs in an empty classroom picked seemingly at random. (She said something to Dumbledore about there maybe being monitoring spells in his office, which was a little paranoid, but all the Aurors who'd survived the war were paranoid to some degree.) Dorea had gone first, but as late as it was in the evening the interviews probably went on well into the night — she had no idea, she'd gone straight to bed once she'd been let go.

The next day was relatively calm — there were whispers, rumours passing around about Liz using some kind of dark magic to break into Gryffindor (because of course), the Weasleys all absent, which was rather conspicuous given Percy was Head Boy. (They'd been sent home, she'd later learn, they returned to school a week later.) Until dinner, when a special evening edition of the Prophet arrived. Peter Pettigrew's capture was, naturally, the front page story, complete with the implications concerning Sirius's innocence. The Great Hall, naturally, exploded into noisy gossip, quickly giving Dorea a terrible headache.

And that wasn't the last article about it, of course not. On Monday, the Prophet published a big, salacious article about the incident in Gryffindor, that Liz was a mind mage and had compelled dozens of students all at once. They didn't connect that to Peter's capture until two days later, the DLE explaining why they wouldn't be bringing charges against Liz, though Dorea honestly doubted they would even without the extenuating circumstances — regardless of how bloody creepy it had been to witness (she was still a little nervous around Liz sometimes because of it), she didn't think Liz had actually done anything illegal. Of course, by that point it was too late. Few people tried to bother her at school — she still had Slytherin behind her, and also most of Hufflepuff (she had already had friends in Hufflepuff, but risking personal consequences in an effort to exonerate your best friend's father of crimes he didn't commit was the kind of story they just loved to pieces) — but instead she got hate mail.

Kind of a lot of it, actually — it seemed Liz had finally found the limit of 'dark' tendencies the portion of the public who venerated the 'Girl Who Lived' would tolerate. The subsequent article explaining what happened didn't help, by Thursday Snape had set up much more thorough post wards (rituals?) for her. Now all of her post (excluding the letters brought by duck) was redirected to the Potters' family manor, her personal elf (an adorable girl named Nilanse) ferrying the proper letters on before breakfast every morning.

When Dorea asked what they were doing with the hate mail, Nilanse had explained that the elves copied any identifying information (to possibly hand over to the DLE in case of a credible threat)...and then they burned them all, and mixed the ashes into the fertiliser for the greenhouses — cheerfully, with a gleefully vicious smirk, Liz's lips twitching with amusement, because apparently her sense of humour was contagious.

(Dorea had never actually met Nilanse before she was bringing Liz her mail one morning, she was an odd little thing...)

Anyway, that first Tuesday there was an article commenting on an announcement from the French Ministry that Sirius had come to them for political asylum. The French claimed that they had confirmed his claims of innocence with dishonesty-detecting spells, and that they would hold him in house arrest (where he'd also be getting intensive medical attention) until the date of his trial. Also, the French Ministry insisted they would send members of their own security forces with him when the time came, and they would stay with him as personal protection until he was exonerated in a fair trial before the Wizengamot — their statement made it very clear that, given his long imprisonment in Azkaban (having been given no hearing whatsoever), they didn't trust the British authorities to treat him fairly. The French official who'd given the statement didn't quite come out and say that this was the way it was going to be and the British Ministry could go to hell if they didn't like it, but it was pretty obvious reading between the lines.

It would be a while until that actually happened, though. To begin with, the French wanted to give Sirius at least a month with the healers before sending him back to Britain, but the Wizengamot was also being difficult about it — naturally, of course, Dorea could hardly expect anything less. The schedule had already been set for the next month and a half or so, which happened to include Liz's custody hearing later this month, so obviously they didn't want to mess with that. With all the other things on the docket, the earliest they could get to it was late March, or more likely early April...and that was without giving the Lords and Ladies time to make a big scene about the revelations, throwing mud at each other and Fudge and especially Dumbledore.

It turned out, his testimony that Sirius had been the Potters' Secret Keeper was a significant factor in the decision to give him up for a traitor. Liz claimed the Potters had changed it without his knowledge (somehow?), but still, oops.

It was still early, but Dorea could already tell there was a massive political shite-storm brewing — between Ginny's death, his neglect of Liz, and now this, there was no way in hell Dumbledore's political career was getting through this unscathed. She doubted he'd still be Chief Warlock by the end of the year. He'd already been weak before this, but with Liz's hearing and then Sirius and Peter's trials still forthcoming, yeah, this was not going to end well for him. Some of their classmates suggested he might even be removed as Headmaster, but there were still members of the Board publicly defending him, so that seemed less likely. Still, bad time for Dumbledore coming up, no doubt about that.

And Fudge was completely done for, obviously, that went without saying.

Even his allies weren't making it any easier for him. Their representative in the Senate, one of Dumbledore's people, had attempted to get the ICW to force France to give up custody of Sirius rather than escort him to Britain themselves, but the debate in the Senate had quickly gone the other way, Senators lambasting Britain for their terrible justice system (no arguing there) and the crime against humanity that was the continued existence of the institution of Azkaban (again, spot on). The request had been denied, vociferously...and the next day there'd been a vote of no confidence, and Dumbledore had been removed from the Consulate. Yeah, that backfired, good job.

Apparently, there were even talks in the Senate about imposing sanctions on Britain — from the more extreme Senators, even assembling an international force to take control of Azkaban and remove the prisoners there from British custody. Things weren't going well for Dumbledore's political career and Britain's international standing, to put it mildly.

There was a lot going on, constant dramatic debates in the Wizengamot — enough that the daily issue of the Prophet had started including an inset with a full transcript — and shakeups at the Ministry, with people being promoted or fired or moved around, and international diplomatic who even knows, and constant competing public statements from one member of the Wizengamot or another, the balance of power between the factions shifting by the day, and— It was too much to keep track of, was the thing. Being at Hogwarts gave her a limited perspective to begin with, pretty much just what she saw in the Prophet or the occasional letter from Andi or one Lord or another, and everything was happening all at once, it was just overwhelming.

So, after the first few days, when everything starting getting completely mad and she couldn't keep track of it anymore, she just...didn't bother. She had classes and her friends and Liz's problems to worry about, okay, she just didn't have the attention to include the political life of the entire bloody country on top. She wasn't old enough where she would have to participate (no matter that a lot of it did revolve around her father), so she would just keep her head down and go about her business. Leave it to the grown-ups.

Besides, the whole situation might have blown far out of her control, more of a scandal than she ever could have anticipated, but at least it had worked: the dementors were finally removed from the castle, the first Thursday after she'd caved and gone to Liz. Whatever else might come of all this, Dorea was going to call it a success.

(She could have done without the nightmares of Liz as a terrifying mind-controlling Dark Lady, but the dementors were gone, so she guessed she'd take it.)

---

Asking Liz to solve problems while she's exhausted, impatient, and currently hating the world is clearly a good idea.

Also, I'm sure the political scandal around Sirius's false imprisonment will have no long-term consequences whatsoever. Don't worry about it.

Feeling not great about this chapter, but I've been feeling not great in general lately — just been constantly tired and headachy, no idea what that's about. Makes writing a bit of a slog, I'm honestly surprised I got this out as fast as I did. Can't promise when I'll get back to making progress on other fics, or even if this one will continue to update regularly, we'll have to see how it goes.

It doesn't help that I've been in a sci fi mood lately. On top of just thinking about how neat space opera stuff is, Echoes and my barely-started Mass Effect fic keep intruding in my head, it's very annoying. Probably not doing myself any favours by starting to watch Babylon 5 (finally, been on my list for years), but oh well. Writing's just been a bitch lately, bluh.

Anyway, enough from me. Thanks for reading my nonsense, until next time.