The following week marked the beginning of the Easter holidays, and Sirius Black vanished from Hogwarts.

James knew Sirius' absence could mean only one thing — he had gone home for the holidays. The fact that Sirius would willingly subject himself to his awful family just to appease Remus settled like a weight in James' stomach. Despite his unease, he didn't dare broach the subject with Remus, who had finally stopped looking askance at Sirius' bed and was now acting as if their former mate had never existed at all.

James, on the other hand, felt Sirius' disappearance keenly; the castle was eerily quiet without him around. The previous year, they had celebrated Easter by magically inflating a bunny until it was the size of a large horse, then setting it loose near the greenhouses. The rabbit had eaten every leafy green plant in Professor Sprout's vegetable patch, then hopped into the Forbidden Forest, its huge paws leaving wide craters in the mud.

This year, in contrast, the holidays consisted mostly of James following Remus and Peter around as they revised for their O.W.L.s. James thought he'd never been quite so familiar with the library, save for the brief stint during their second year when they had spent weeks sneaking into the Restricted Section after curfew to find books on Animagi.

"Go on, quiz me then, if you're so bored," Remus said irritably one day, sliding his Potions book across the table. James looked up, startled; while Remus and Peter had been studying, he had taken it upon himself to Transfigure Remus' wizarding chess pieces into miniature Quidditch players, who were now speeding back and forth across the table, engaged in a rowdy match.

"Who said I was bored? White's got some amazingly aggressive Chasers, look —"

Peter flinched as a tiny Quaffle bounced off of his forehead and landed in an inkwell. "It is a little distracting, mate."

"Well, seeing as you lot don't want to play Quidditch with me —"

"I don't know if you've noticed," said Remus, "but not all of us can pass our O.W.L.s by harnessing the power of positive thinking. Some of us actually have to study."

"I have to study, too," said James, crossing his arms. "By playing Quidditch. Since I'm going to be a professional Quidditch player."

"Well, you've already got an O in being an annoying git," said Peter, "so that's one subject taken care of, at least."

James flicked his wand, and one of the miniature Bludgers went zooming up Peter's nose. He began to snort and cough so loudly that Madam Pince banned them from the library for the rest of the afternoon.

On the last day of the Easter holidays, James spotted Sirius in the Gryffindor common room, chatting with Marlene McKinnon. As James climbed through the portrait hole, Sirius' grey eyes slid towards him. Sirius arched an eyebrow, asking a silent question — ready yet?

James shook his head in response, and Sirius' face fell. As James bounded up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, the knot in his stomach felt like a lead weight.

The next day, he and Peter were scheduled for career counselling with Professor McGonagall in the early afternoon, so they decided to skive off the entirety of Care of Magical Creatures in favour of taking an extended lunch with Remus by the lake.

"What'd you talk about with Minnie?" James asked, biting into a sandwich.

Remus shrugged. "Nothing too exciting. She wanted to know what my post-Hogwarts goals are. To tell you the truth, she didn't seem very impressed with my level of ambition."

James and Peter exchanged glances. "Did you do that thing where you insist you won't be able to hold a job after Hogwarts?" said Peter. "Because you know we think that's —"

"It's not rubbish," said Remus, tearing his sandwich into bits. "It's the truth. When I don't show up for a couple of days every month… when people figure out the pattern…"

"You just need a job where you can set your own schedule," said James. "Become a travelling salesman or something. Did Minnie have any ideas?"

"She had one," said Remus darkly. "And it was terrible. She offered me a position at Hogwarts." His expression indicated that death was preferable to becoming a teacher.

"But that's not terrible at all!" said Peter. "Seems very reasonable to me, actually."

"Yeah," said James, nodding. "Since we know Dumbledore's fine about your furry little problem, and you've already got the Shrieking Shack set up. Makes a lot of sense that you'd work here after graduating."

"You don't get it," said Remus. He looked down at his sandwich, seeming surprised that it was torn apart, and began to put the pieces in his mouth. "I'd be around children. If something happens again, the way things happened with Snape…"

"That was a fluke," growled James. "You've gone five years without an issue, and the Snape thing only happened because Sirius interfered. You're not normally a danger, Moony."

Remus snorted. "Right. I'm not a danger, except for once a month when I turn into a creature whose entire purpose is to consume human flesh. It's not safe for me to be here, you can't convince me that it is, not after —"

"Well, McGonagall's not offering you the job right this second," interrupted Peter. "You still have a couple of years to think about it."

"I'm not going to change my mind," said Remus. "I already told her so."

"Moony, I hate to say it, but Pete's right," said James. "You don't have to decide now. Just let the idea percolate a bit, and you can come back to it in a few years, after our N.E.W.T.s." He checked his watch. "We need to get going if we're gonna make it on time. Ready, Pete?"

After they reached the first floor, Peter's appointment lasted barely ten minutes. He emerged from Professor McGonagall's office and gave James the thumbs-up.

"Told her I'm gonna be a House-Elf Relocation Officer," he said. "Like my mum. McGonagall seemed to think I could do better, but…" He shrugged. "They only want two O.W.L.s, so I figure it's a safe bet."

"Way to underachieve, Pete," said James, smacking his back.

Peter grinned. "Your turn to let her down next."

James strolled into the office, hands in his pockets, and plunked into the chair in front of Professor McGonagall's desk. "You called, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall inclined her head a little. "Potter. As I'm sure you're aware, the purpose of this meeting is to provide guidance before your O.W.L.s, so that you may have some idea of the career path you wish to follow."

"Easy," said James at once. "I'm going to be a professional Quidditch player."

Professor McGonagall's lips tightened into a tiny semblance of a smile. "I thought you might say something like that. Have you ever considered any… alternative options?"

"Sure," said James, ticking them off his fingers. "Quidditch commentator… Quidditch analyst… Quidditch team manager, though I don't think I have the organisational skills for that one…"

"I meant something outside the realm of Quidditch," said Professor McGonagall, who looked like she was beginning to get a headache.

James looked at her blankly. "Why would I want to do anything other than Quidditch?"

"Potter," said Professor McGonagall, massaging one of her temples, "your father consults with the Ministry. Surely you know what the political climate is like right now?"

"Er," said James, "yeah, sort of. I mean, everyone's getting worked up about that pure-blood rubbish, and there's a mysterious Dark wizard who's goading people on, right?"

"That is the gist of it." Professor McGonagall seemed relieved that James wasn't completely oblivious to the world around him. "The headmaster believes that the current attacks and skirmishes will devolve into a full-fledged war. With this in mind, it is important for talented individuals — people like you — to position themselves appropriately. You excel at Transfiguration — you would have no trouble landing a job as an Unspeakable at the Ministry, creating weapons to fight, if you so choose."

"I can fight by playing Quidditch," said James. At the look on McGonagall's face, he added, "I mean, keeping people entertained is important, too, right? Especially if there's going to be a war, like you said."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes and took a breath before responding. "Potter, you know that I am as much a fan of Quidditch as you are. But Quidditch will always remain a mere sport. I am speaking of something bigger."

James' mouth fell open. He hadn't thought Professor McGonagall believed in anything bigger than Quidditch. It was why they got along so well.

"If you insist on pursuing a career in Quidditch, then I cannot stop you," continued Professor McGonagall. "But I must reiterate — this is a time to act. To put the skills you take for granted to good use."

"You sound like Lily Evans," said James. "She told me to use my oversized brain for the greater good."

The corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched. "Miss Evans is wise beyond her years."

After James left Professor McGonagall's office, his mind swirled as he headed to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall had known about his Quidditch ambitions since his first year at Hogwarts, and she had loved him for it. She'd encouraged him — she was the one who had made him Captain when it was only his fifth year! Hearing her say that she expected him to do something bigger with his life made no sense. And yet…

"Good news, lads," James, plopping down beside Remus and Peter. "We've been given a job to do."

On Saturday morning, Lily was eating breakfast with Marlene and Mary when a huge flock of owls swooped into the Great Hall, clutching multicoloured pamphlets in their talons and beaks. The hall filled with murmurs, punctuated by the occasional shriek as the owls soared low over the tables, clipping students with their wings. A large barn owl glided over the heads of the Gryffindors and released its many papers from its talons, scattering them across the table.

"What the…" Marlene picked up a leaflet that had fallen into her pumpkin juice. It was dazzling, flashing all different colours of the rainbow. On its front, it read in bubble letters:

SO YOU WANT TO BE A DEATH EATER?

Mary flipped open the nearest pamphlet, face pale, but after a moment of reading, she began to giggle.

"What's so funny?" demanded Lily.

"Oh, this is gold." Marlene tossed her pamphlet to Lily, who opened it.

Are you tired of studying Charms when you could be studying Curses?

Do you not need an O in Divs for your Inner Eye to see that you're better than everybody else?

Consider giving wizarding Britain the two-fingered salute and joining the Death Eaters!

All you need is the soul of a Dementor, a superiority complex, and a passing score on your E.V.I.L.s (Exacting Villainous Intelligence Levels)! Practising Dark Magic was never so easy!

The E.V.I.L.s will be administered at four o'clock in Dungeon One. No revising required — just bring yourself, your quill, and a willingness to squash underfoot anyone who interferes with your rise to power!

The test will be followed by a meet-and-greet with the Dark Lord himself!

"This can't be real," said Lily, flipping the leaflet over to see if anything was hidden on the other side.

"'Course it's not," said Marlene. "But you can bet every Galleon in Gringotts that I'm gonna be taking my E.V.I.L.s this afternoon."

"Considering a career change, then, McKinnon?" called James from down the table, looking very pleased with himself. Beside him, Remus and Peter nodded their approval.

"Thinking about it," said Marlene. "Whoever made this pamphlet was very convincing."

"I can't wait to meet What's-His-Name," said Mary, her eyes wide. "I have so many questions for him."

"Now, now, Mary." Remus reached across the table to pat her hand. "I'm sure Whatever-He's-Called will be happy to answer you as best he can."

"They say he's extremely accommodating," agreed Peter. "I've only heard good things."

On impulse, Lily glanced at the Slytherin table. A pamphlet was crumpled in Severus' fist, and his lightless eyes looked murderous. She wanted to cross the Great Hall and tell him to lighten up, that it was just a joke.

But what if it's not? asked a voice in her head. Not to him, at least.

Dungeon One contained a central podium surrounded by many rows of tiered seats, which were just barely enough to accommodate all of the students who crammed into the room to take their E.V.I.L.s. Three hooded figures wearing badges labelled 'DEATH EATER' directed students to available seats and passed out quills to those who didn't have them. Lily, Marlene, and Mary were ushered to chairs near the front, close to the podium.

Once most of the students had been seated, one of the hooded figures jumped onto the desk at the centre of the podium, nearly unbalancing a stack of papers as he did so.

"Witches and warlocks, aspiring agents of barbarity, welcome to your E.V.I.L.s!" cried the Death Eater, sounding suspiciously like James Potter. "Those who pass will be added to our ranks. Not to worry, though — if you don't prove evil enough for the Death Eaters, we're sure we can find you a life of petty crime that will fill your rotten little heart with joy and purpose!"

A second Death Eater joined the first on the podium.

"The exam will be graded as follows," said the Death Eater, who seemed to have Remus' voice. He waved his wand, and writing appeared on the blackboard behind him.

EXACTING VILLAINOUS IQ LEVELS

Pass Grades

Obscene (O)

Extremely Excessive (E)

Awful (A)

Fail Grades

Priggish (P)

Dull (D)

Tryhard (T)

"You have half an hour to complete the test," said the first Death Eater from atop the desk. "When you receive your exam, you may begin!"

A third, shorter Death Eater scrambled onto the podium and turned over a large hourglass on the desk. As grains of sand began to fall, the Death Eaters flourished their wands in unison, sending copies of the exam swirling about the room.

Lily snatched an exam out of the air, turned it over, and scratched her name at the top. The first question read:

You, a follower of the Dark Lord, are tasked with wiping out a segment of the population. Do you first target a) people who eat with their mouth open, b) people who like clowns, or c) the clowns themselves? Discuss.

Lily smiled and began to compose her response. Beside her, Marlene was grinning from ear to ear as she filled out her exam.

By the time Lily finished her E.V.I.L.s, there were only a few grains of sand left in the hourglass, and the room was filling with whispers as students compared answers.

"And that's it, time's up!" announced the first Death Eater from the podium. He waved his wand to collect the exams, which zoomed towards him and formed a haphazard pile atop the desk.

"An impartial Dark artefact will grade your exams," said the second Death Eater, pulling a long, dark quill from beneath his robes. "This quill has been cursed to recognise villainous potential and give feedback accordingly."

"While you are waiting for your E.V.I.L.s to be graded, we suggest you have a chat with our fearless leader," continued the first Death Eater. "I am proud to present to you our malevolent master, the Darkest of wizards himself, the one, the only… LORD WHAT'S-HIS-NAME!"

The third, shortest Death Eater emerged from a door at the back of the room, carrying something large and rectangular that was covered in cloth. He set the object carefully atop the desk, then pulled off the cloth, revealing what was underneath.

It was a painting of a wizard, but it was the most poorly-done portrait Lily had ever seen. It looked like modern art, though she was certain that wasn't the intention. The wizard's eyes were different sizes and pointed in different directions, and his mouth was a mere squiggle. He attempted to twirl his wand, which was little more than a line, but his fingers were misshapen and lumpy, like sausages, and his wand fell to the bottom of the painting. Titters spread through the room as students surged forward to get a better look.

"Merlin above," said Marlene, pushing past a group of Ravenclaws in an attempt to get closer to the front. Beside her, Mary was covering her mouth in a fruitless attempt to stop giggling. "James and his mates really are rubbish at painting, aren't they?"

"Hello, Lord Whatever-Your-Name-Is," said Sally Dearborn, a sixth year Gryffindor who was first to reach the portrait. "This is quite the honour. I've heard rumours about your hideous appearance, but I never expected you to look quite so…"

"Intimidating?" said Lord What's-His-Name, whose voice was high and a bit babyish. He did a little twirl inside the painting, but his legs were uneven, so he stumbled a bit.

"Yeah," said Sally. "That's the word I was looking for. Intimidating."

As Lily, Mary, and Marlene reached the painting, the first Death Eater waved them over, lowering his hood.

"Terrifying, isn't he?" asked James, jerking a thumb towards the portrait. "Never underestimate Peter's sheer lack of artistic ability."

"It's impressively bad," agreed Marlene. The third Death Eater turned at her words, and though Lily couldn't see under his hood, she was positive he was beaming.

"Where's Sirius?" Mary craned her head and looked around at the crowd. "Thought there would be a fourth Death Eater here today…"

"Detention," said James at once. "Poor bloke's missing out on all the fun. Thoughts, Evans?"

"Promise that you'll never attempt a portrait of me," said Lily.

Lord What's-His-Name's lopsided eyes bulged out at her. "I am the scourge of Britain!" squeaked the painting. "Fear my power!" He wiggled his noodly limbs at her, which was not remotely threatening.

"Wanna hear the pièce de résistance?" said James, gesturing for her to come closer. "When we're done, we're planning on hanging him in Dumbledore's office."

It took another thirty minutes for the black quill to finish grading the stack of exams, by which time most students had been able to interact with the painting to their heart's content. To Lily's amusement, Lord What's-His-Name refused to make any slurs against Muggle-borns, opting instead to rant about clowns using epithets that grew steadily more absurd.

"Your results, then, Evans," said James, putting his hood back on. Lily took her exam from him and unrolled it carefully. The word Tryhard was scrawled in red across the top of the parchment, followed by several sentences in varied handwriting, despite having come from the same enchanted quill.

Mr J.F.P., Death Eater, would like to offer his condolences to Miss Evans on failing her E.V.I.L.s. He would also like the record to show that he believes she deserves a perfect mark on anything she attempts, and it was only the interference of his so-called colleagues that prevented a passing score.

Mr R.J.L., Death Eater, is certain Miss Evans will agree that having red hair and being pretty is not good enough evidence that one deserves perfect marks on their exams.

Mr P.P.P., Death Eater, would like to add that Miss Evans shouldn't take her failure personally, as her friend Mary MacDonald scored even more poorly than she did.

"Ha!" said Marlene, scanning her exam. "I got an O! Wizarding Britain better watch out!"

"Congratulations on becoming a Death Eater," said Remus from beneath his Death Eater hood. He handed her a shining, rainbow badge that read 'I got an O on my E.V.I.L.s!'.

"Better luck next time, Evans." James held out a different badge, which flashed with the words 'I failed my E.V.I.L.s!'.

"I deserved better than a T, and you know it," said Lily, but she took the badge anyway. "I'm incredibly mischievous! I should have passed!"

"You've never had more than three detentions in your life, plus you're a prefect," said Remus. "That doesn't scream Dark wizard to me. Marlene, on the other hand…"

Marlene preened as she affixed the rainbow badge to her robes. "How'd you get that quill to write with your personalities, anyway? I'm assuming you modified an Auto-Answer Quill, but beyond that…"

"We told you," said Peter innocently. "It's a Dark artefact. Probably created by You-Know-Who himself."

As students began to file out, James pulled Lily aside before she could leave the dungeon. "So what did you think? Was that a morale-booster or what?"

Lily raised her eyebrows. "My failing mark aside, it wasn't a bad effort. I do have one suggestion, though."

James crossed his arms and tilted his chin at her. "Go on, then, Miss I-Got-A-T. Impress me."

"You said you were going to put Lord What's-His-Name in Dumbledore's office, but I can think of a better place," she said. "The Slytherin common room, for instance."

James gaped at her. "You're right," he said once he'd recovered the power of speech. "And you don't think that will… escalate things with the Slytherins?"

"How could it possibly?" she said. "If they get upset and retaliate, they're as good as admitting that they idolise the Dark Lord. And that's a one-way ticket to expulsion — even Mulciber's not that stupid."

"You did deserve an O," he said. "That's the most devious plan I've heard all year."

"I try," said Lily, winking at him. James blinked in surprise, and a goofy smile spread across his face.

She took the opportunity to skip out of the classroom, glad he couldn't see her grin.

Bella found Severus in Dungeon Thirteen, practising his new spell on a jar of pickled toads. "Brutal," she said lightly as he pointed his wand at yet another hapless amphibian, splitting its rubbery flesh with the ease of cutting soft butter.

"I should hope so," snapped Severus. He Vanished the remains of the toad and plucked another out of the jar.

"Does this have anything to do with the incident at the Whomping Willow?" she asked.

"Perhaps." He slashed his wand through the air until the toad was no longer recognisable.

Bella picked up the toad by what had previously been one of its legs. She made a face as it dangled in the air in front of her. "Should I take this to mean that you have not managed to capture a werewolf?"

"I'm going in a different direction," said Severus, holding out his hand. She dropped the toad into it. "Werewolves are resistant to the more common forms of offensive magic. Hence this spell."

"I see," she said. "You're turning your focus to defensive magic."

"Not necessarily," he said. "I'm thinking of this spell as simply… battle magic. For use against those who you do not mind killing."

"For enemies," said Bella softly.

Severus nodded. "It's not perfect yet. When I get it right, the spell will be like a hot knife. It will cut through even the toughest flesh. Werewolves, troll skin, giant hide…"

"In other words," she said, "it will be an excellent tool to recruit those who might need persuasion."

Severus pulled another toad out of the jar. "Do you…" He paused, turning over the toad in his hands. "Do you think this spell will be sufficient? Or should I look elsewhere for my pledge?"

She smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "You have never disappointed me yet, Sev. I'm sure Lucius — and the Dark Lord — will be very pleased."

Severus exhaled a little, then placed the toad on the table in front of him and readied his wand. Bella watched him, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, she cocked her head to the side and looked shrewdly at him.

"Would you like to learn something new?"

"That depends." He rent the toad's skin with a sickening squelch. "I find some of the things we have learned… distasteful. The Inferi, for instance."

"This won't be like that at all," she assured him. "I think you'll enjoy it, in fact. It's proper magic, old magic. It will give you an edge in combat and when dealing with others."

Severus' lip turned up at the corner. "I could use some help in dealing with others."

"I shall speak to Lucius," said Bella. "I will have to ask his permission. But I think he'll agree that you're a good candidate. What do you say?"

Severus Vanished the unfortunate toad. "I'm in."

Later that week, Bella found him on the fifth-floor corridor and dragged him behind a statue of Boris the Bewildered. "Lucius said yes," she told him, her eyes shining. "He gave permission. Are you free this evening, after dinner?"

Severus shrugged. "We — Avery, Mulciber, and I — have plans to work on a Defence essay in the library…"

"Blow them off," said Bella, waving her hand. "Tell them you're with me, they'll understand. I'll meet you in Dungeon Thirteen, alright?"

He nodded, and Bella pulled him into a brief hug. "I'm so excited," she whispered into his ear. "You are going to love this."

Before he could respond, she darted out from behind the statue, joining the throng of students making their way to class.

When Severus arrived at Dungeon Thirteen that evening, Bella was perched in one of the white armchairs, wrapped in a red silk robe embroidered with cherry blossoms and sipping from a teacup.

"Tea?" she asked, indicating the china set on the pouffe beside her. Severus nodded, settling into an armchair and pouring himself a cup. "I told you this would be more civilised than making Inferi," she said, winking at him.

"So far, at least," he said drily.

"To business, then," she said, draining the last of her tea. "Have you heard of a branch of magic called Occlumency?"

Severus shook his head and Bella smiled, flashing her white, square teeth at him. "I didn't think so. It's old, obscure, and difficult to master. Right up your alley, if you ask me."

"What's the point?"

"Occlumency shields your mind from intrusion," she explained. "There's a different sort of magic — Legilimency — that grants access to the mind of another. If you've mastered Occlumency, the Legilimens can still rifle through your mind, but he will see only what you want him to see, and he'll be none the wiser."

A thought struck Severus. "Is Legilimency how you always know when we're not telling the truth?"

Bella's smile grew wider. "It's not quite as complicated as that. Teenage boys are simply hopeless liars." She barked a laugh.

"So how do I use Occlumency?" asked Severus. "Is there a spell?"

"No." Bella drew her wand, and the motion sent the embroidered cherry blossoms on her robes swirling, as if they had been disturbed by wind. "You must simply discipline your mind. Conceal your secrets so completely that they are even hidden from yourself."

She leaned forward and cupped his chin in her hand, her grey eyes boring into his. "Get ready," she said softly. "One, two, three… Legilimens."

At once, Severus' mind was filled with memories. He was three and wearing a dirty shirt and sagging cloth diaper, the only clothes he owned… he was seven, and his father was striking his mother… he was nine and watching a girl with flaming red hair swing through the air, higher, higher…

The sound of shattering china brought Severus out of his reverie. He had dropped his teacup.

"No matter," said Bella calmly. She pointed her wand at the shards scattered across the plush white rug, and the teacup mended itself, jumping back into his hand. "Let's try again," she said, pouring him more tea.

"Did you…" began Severus. "Were you able to see the same things I did?"

"Yes," said Bella simply. She looked at him plainly, without pity or embarrassment. "There is shame associated with those memories. Shame is a strong emotion; it is easy to pull such memories to the surface of the mind. You must learn to treat your secrets with indifference, as if they belonged to someone else. That is how you hide them."

She leaned forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose once more. "We will try again," she said. "Legilimens."

A boy much bigger than Severus was punching him in the mouth… His father was laughing at him… He felt the shame welling up in him and tried to bury it, to feel indifferent, to feel safe…

His mum was creeping into his room in the middle of the night, healing his tooth with a grimy old wand, a finger to her lips… now Lily was the one shushing him as they crouched in the bushes, hiding from Petunia… he was watching McGonagall place the Sorting Hat on Lily's head, heart sinking as the hat shouted "Gryffindor!"… Lily was taking him by the arm outside Slughorn's office, sending thrills up his spine…

Severus blinked and came back to himself. Bella had lowered her wand, brow furrowed.

"I wasn't aware you had such a history with your Mudblood friend," she said quietly. "I thought you two met at Hogwarts. I didn't know that you were childhood friends as well."

"It doesn't matter," said Severus quickly. "It's not — it doesn't interfere with…"

"You don't understand," said Bella impatiently. "You must learn to suppress these thoughts. Your family history will surprise nobody who peruses your mind, but your feelings for the Mudblood are a great weakness. If the wrong sort of person found out, if someone like Lucius became aware…" She let the sentence dangle ominously.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I am your mentor," she said, taking his face in her hand again. "What I learn about you does not leave this room." She raised her wand. "Discipline your mind. Do not let thoughts of the Mudblood tempt you into giving away your secrets. You do not wear your emotions on your sleeve; so it should be with your mind. Legilimens."

This time, Severus tried a different tactic. He allowed his mind to jump from association to association without dwelling on the memories that arose. His father was advancing on him, brandishing his belt like a whip… his father became Lily, striding towards him in the Forbidden Forest, wand out… Lily became James, who became Sirius, pinning him to the infirmary cot, who became his father again, who became Mulciber.

The images gathered speed until one was barely distinguishable from another. The memories began to fade from view, and Bella's eyes came into focus, clearer and clearer until all he saw were her large grey eyes, close enough that he could count her individual lashes.

Severus pulled back, breaking their connection. "Based only on what you have just seen," he said, "how would you describe my feelings about Lily Evans?"

Bella cocked her head, considering the question. A smile began to play about her lips. "I don't know," she said. "It's a start."

As the weather grew warmer, April gave way to May, and Remus showed no signs of forgiving Sirius. Whenever Sirius was in their vicinity, which was increasingly rare, Remus ignored him completely, as if their former mate was a special kind of ghost that not even wizards could see. James would occasionally bring up Sirius' name in conversation to see if Remus was softening, but these attempts were fruitless; Remus would merely go conveniently deaf and change the subject to their approaching O.W.L.s.

Sirius, for his part, was becoming harder and harder to locate. He no longer attended class regularly, and had stopped showing up for History of Magic entirely. Occasionally, James would pass him in a corridor, but no matter how much James tried to make eye contact, to convey his remorse that things had gone this far, Sirius refused to look at him.

It was with this in mind that James sat in History of Magic, doodling in the margins of his parchment and trying not to glance at Sirius' empty seat. It was unusually hot outside, and the heat seemed to seep into the classroom, stifling him. Between the drone of Professor Binns' voice, the oppressive stillness of the air, and Sirius' increasingly conspicuous absence, James was ready to drive his own quill through his head.

A loud crack jolted him out of his reverie. He'd pressed down on his parchment too hard, snapping his quill.

"Tell us how you really feel, mate," said Peter, handing him another.

"What are we even doing here?" muttered James. "This entire lesson is a waste of time. Goblin wars, my arse. Sirius had the right idea — " He broke off, looking at Remus guiltily.

Remus smiled slightly and continued to take notes. "I expect things will become rather more interesting before long."

"Oh yeah?" asked James. "How's that?"

There was a rumble in the distance, like a far-off train.

"Well," said Remus, "I subscribe to the Daily Prophet, which I believe you're quite fond of mocking me for."

"And rightly so," said Peter. "You're damaging our reputation with a goody-goody habit like that."

Remus continued as if he hadn't heard. "You may not be aware of this, having never read the paper yourself, but newspapers have an awful lot of different sections. A weather forecast, for instance."

James scoffed. "Who needs a forecast when we've got the Great Hall?"

"That's the thing," said Remus. "As the weather grows warmer, a specific kind of meteorological event tends to occur under certain conditions. And the Daily Prophet has predicted that we are due for one such event this afternoon."

"Fascinating," said James sarcastically. "I can tell that your subscription is a Knut well spent —"

A second rumble, rather louder than the first, shook the room, and James came to a realisation. "Oh."

"Oh," echoed Peter.

Remus smiled to himself as he began a new paragraph on his parchment. "Exactly."

"Are we —" began Peter, looking frantically at James.

"Well, we have to, don't we?" James swept his things into his bag. "Quick, jinx me, and we can get out of here."

"With what jinx?" asked Peter, scrambling for his wand. "Come on, James, I'm blanking here —"

Remus drew his wand from his sleeve and flicked it at Peter. "Prandium Emitus."

Immediately, Peter began to retch, clutching his stomach as the partially-digested contents of his lunch sprayed across their desks.

James took the opportunity to leap to his feet. "Erm, excuse me, Professor!" he called.

Every head in the class swivelled towards him. Professor Binns paused his lecture, blinking as he peered through his glasses at James.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but Peter's quite ill," explained James, wrapping an arm around Peter's waist. "Think it's best if I help him down to the infirmary. Right this second. Really can't wait."

"Right... yes, yes, naturally," said Professor Binns, sounding somewhat dazed. "Feel better, Pettigrew..." He looked back down at his notes, squinting. "As I was saying, when Agrok the Atrocious set foot upon the battlefield…"

As soon as James and Peter reached the corridor, they broke into a sprint.

"Where are we going?" panted Peter, still holding his stomach.

"Dormitory," said James. "To get our potions. Then to the second floor, to the statue of Cornelia the Unbalanced. The one that leads to the grotto by the lake."

They burst into their dorms, and James brandished his wand at his bedside table. "Alohomora!"

"Not so fast," came an echo of his own voice. "Password?"

"Operation: Safari Park," said James, and the drawer sprung open with a bang. Inside, nestled in a black cloth, were the three small vials of potion.

"You put a password on it?" asked Peter incredulously. "I wasn't going to peek…"

"It wasn't just for you," said James. "The potions had to remain undisturbed. Couldn't afford to take chances." He scooped up two of the vials, leaving the one in the middle.

"Shouldn't we…" began Peter, staring at the lone vial remaining in the drawer.

"No point." James felt a pang of remorse as the words left his mouth. "There's no way that Sirius has kept up with the incantations. Besides, we don't even know where he is, and we don't have time to wait."

He handed Peter one of the vials and stuffed the other in his bag. He didn't bother to shut the drawer before running out of the room, Peter at his heels. They tore through the castle, knocking over suits of armour and nearly tumbling down the stairs in their haste to get to the second floor.

James reached the statue of Cornelia the Unbalanced first and quickly traced an inappropriate word on the statue's forehead with his wand. As he finished, the base of the statue shifted, revealing a hole in the floor.

Down the tunnel they went. The air grew damp and warm as they descended; at last, the mouth of the tunnel widened, opening into the grotto.

Remus was standing on a mossy rock where the grotto met the edge of the lake, his head tilted towards the rain. "Beautiful place, this," he said lightly, but his hands were trembling.

"Good spot for it, too," said Peter nervously as a flash of lightning illuminated the damp stone walls. "It's got land and water, plus it's open to air… whatever we become, it'll —"

A rumble of thunder drowned out the rest of his words.

"That's enough stalling, I expect," said James, drawing his vial from the pocket of his robes. The crimson liquid inside had turned a deep brown. His pulse accelerated, and he thought he could feel a second heartbeat matching time with his own, each beat stronger and more forceful than the last.

Peter had one hand pressed against his chest while the other clutched his potion, which had turned a sandy beige. He glanced anxiously at James. "Do you feel that?"

"Yeah," said James. His second heartbeat was thumping loudly, becoming more insistent by the second, threatening to overtake his human heart.

"Mine's so fast," said Peter, massaging his chest. "Really not the best feeling…"

"This ought to make it better," said James, clinking Peter's vial against his own. "Cheers, mate."

Peter nodded, face white, and the two boys downed the potion.

Immediately, a clap of thunder sounded. Rising above the bone-shaking rumble was a cacophony of wild cries, the sounds of animals great and small, and then there was silence.