Gryffindor's Quidditch tryouts took place on Saturday morning and were a formality, as far as James was concerned. He only needed to fill a single Chaser position, since Hana Suzuki had graduated the previous year. The rest of the team was strong enough that James doubted he'd find anyone better during tryouts. In the end, he ended up simply moving Otis Podmore from Beater to Chaser, allowing Sirius to take up the now-vacant Beater position.

"Cheers, mate," said Sirius in the changing room afterwards. "Commentating was fun and everything, but I'm looking forward to being back on the pitch where I belong."

Marlene McKinnon, Gryffindor's other Beater, held up her hand for a high-five. "The Dream Team is back!"

"Right, bring it in," said James, motioning for the team to gather round. "Practices will be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, starting next week —"

Sirius let out a loud groan. James raised an eyebrow. "Forgotten what discipline feels like, eh, Black?"

"I'm disciplined," said Sirius defensively. "Just not at six in the morning. I need my beauty sleep."

"Right," asked James, "and I need the Quidditch Cup to stay in McGonagall's office where it belongs."

"Hear, hear," said Marlene. Parvana caught James' eye and raised an imaginary toast.

James grinned at them. "Glad we're all on the same page. I'll see you lot on Monday so we can make my dream a reality."

Parvana caught up to James as he was leaving the pitch. "Did you catch the Magpies' match against Wimbledon this summer?"

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," said James. "My dad got us box tickets."

Parvana's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "He did not."

"Perks of consulting with the Ministry."

"I'm so jealous," said Parvana. "You saw Fabius Watkins' Dionysus Dive in person, then?"

"Yeah," he said. "Incredible flying. I was gonna talk to you about it, actually. I think you could pull it off during our match with Slytherin, if we played our cards right…"

"Me, too," said Parvana. "Great minds think alike, I suppose." She reached up to undo her braid.

James watched her brush out her hair with her fingers. It occurred to him for the first time that Parvana was a girl. A girl who was a talented Quidditch player. "Erm," he said, "d'you have any plans for today? Homework, or something?"

Parvana shook her head. "I just need to finish Flitwick's essay on nonverbal Banishing Spells. What did you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise," said James. "Meet me on top of the Astronomy tower around four. And bring your broom."

That afternoon, Parvana arrived at the Astronomy tower only a couple of minutes after James did. She carried her Cleansweep Five over her shoulder. "What're we doing?" she asked. "Flying to the moon?"

James laughed. "Hardly. I think Dumbledore's office has a secret entrance, and I'm going to find it. You in?"

"Isn't it against the rules to go flying about the castle, peering into windows?" asked Parvana, but she swung a leg over her broomstick.

"Scared of a little detention, are you?"

Parvana pulled up on the handle of her broom in response and disappeared over the parapet. James grinned and followed her. It took them no time at all to circle around to the Headmaster's tower.

"What makes you think Dumbledore's office has got a secret entrance?" asked Parvana, scanning the tower's stonework.

"Well, he likes to travel to the Ministry by broom, doesn't he?" said James. "You think he'd leave via the Astronomy tower, in that case — it's the tallest tower at Hogwarts. But nobody's ever seen him up there. In fact, nobody even knows what sort of broom he rides."

"I bet it's a Tinderblast," said Parvana, and James snorted. Tinderblasts were famous for their quirks and prone to bursting into flames at random intervals.

"Likely," said James, tugging downwards on his broomstick. "I think that's the window to Dumbledore's office, there, look…"

As they hovered outside the window, they pressed their faces to the glass, peering inside. The office appeared to be empty; Fawkes was perched in a corner, head tucked under a wing.

"Excellent, he's out," said James. "Now put those fantastic Seeker eyes of yours to good work and help me find the secret entrance."

Parvana's cheeks flushed slightly, but she nodded, circling the tower. James flew to the top of the tower and examined the row of gargoyles that lined the parapet. He cast anti-concealment charms on the statues, but couldn't detect any traces of hidden magic.

After nearly half an hour, Parvana gave a triumphant shout. James flew down to meet her where she was hovering outside Dumbledore's office. "Did you figure out the secret entrance?"

"Not quite," said Parvana happily. "But I think we'll find out soon. Look…" She gestured towards the horizon. James squinted, trying to avoid the glare from the setting sun. He could just make out a tiny speck far in the distance. It was so small it could have been a smudge on his glasses.

"Think that's him?" asked James.

"I'm certain of it," said Parvana. "He's riding a Tinderblast, can't you see?"

James glanced back toward the speck. It was so far off it seemed impossible to glean the broomstick type. "Whatever you say, Eagle Eyes."

Parvana blushed. She looked away from James quickly, biting her lip. "We should probably hide."

"Let's go up behind the gargoyles," said James. "We'll still have a good view of his office from there."

As they crouched behind the gargoyles, James pulled out what looked like a silvery handkerchief from his pocket and gave it a shake. Immediately, the Invisibility Cloak grew in size until it was large enough for James to drape around himself and Parvana.

Parvana looked astonished. "You've got an Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yeah, it's a family heirloom," said James. "Comes in bloody handy, I'll tell you that. Though this one's a bit finicky." It had taken him the better part of a week and several trips to the library before he had managed to shrink the Cloak to the size of a handkerchief, and he still didn't know why it couldn't be Summoned.

Parvana hummed thoughtfully. She pulled the edge of the Cloak over her broom, which lay on the ground beside her. "That explains a lot, actually."

James winked at her and looked out over the parapet. The figure was coming into view now. "You were right, it is Dumbledore! He's almost here."

They watched, tense with anticipation, as Dumbledore flew closer and closer. "This is it," whispered James. "Any minute now, and we'll know…"

Dumbledore raised his wand as he approached the tower. Parvana squeezed James' arm. Dumbledore muttered something under his breath — the password to the secret entrance?

As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, the window to the Headmaster's office flung open with a rattle. Dumbledore flew inside. The window closed behind him, latching itself shut.

James and Parvana looked at each other.

"Well," said Parvana, "I suppose the window was the most obvious option for a secret exit."

James laughed incredulously, running his hands through his hair. "I'm an idiot. I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"You're not an idiot," said Parvana. "A bit overly imaginative, maybe…"

James raised his eyebrows. "You're too nice to me. You know how badly my mates would be taking the mickey right now?" He pulled out the latest version of the map from his robes and unfolded it. "Stilus," he murmured, and his wand began to drip with ink.

Parvana leaned in towards the parchment until their heads were nearly touching. "You're making a map of Hogwarts?"

"Something like that," said James proudly. "You're looking at the Head of the Hogwarts Cartography Club."

"I didn't realize Hogwarts had a Cartography Club."

"Oh, it's been around forever," said James. "Ask Binns, he's our sponsor."

"Can I join?" asked Parvana hopefully.

"Er," said James. "Membership's full, unfortunately." There was no way Sirius would agree to let Parvana help with the map. It was a shame — she really did have keen eyes.

He touched the tip of his wand to the upper left-hand corner of the parchment. The words 'No secret flying entrance, don't bother' appeared in an untidy scrawl next to Dumbledore's office.

"You know," said Parvana, "Hogwarts: A History has a map…"

"We've already tried that," said James. "Bought out Tomes and Scrolls' entire stock last Hogsmeade weekend. Unfortunately, none of the copies survived contact with my mates."

Parvana whistled. "Wow."

"Yeah," said James. "So I'm trying a new tactic. Starting the map from scratch. I even made the parchment." He'd had a bit of inspiration from Walburga Black's indestructible letter, not that he'd ever admit it to Sirius.

Parvana ran her fingers over the creamy parchment. "Amazing," she said softly. "You're really talented."

"So they tell me," said James. He tried to sound effortlessly breezy, but the joke fell flat.

Parvana looked up at him. She was so close he could hear her breathing, light and quick. It occurred to James that they were quite well-hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. He suddenly felt very shy.

"Erm," he said, "should we head back? I've, er, got a thing — N.E.W.T.s, you know —"

Parvana's face fell ever so slightly, but she nodded and stood, brushing off the Invisibility Cloak.

James spent the entire walk back to Gryffindor Tower kicking himself.

On Sunday, Lily woke early, hoping to finish her Potions essay on Hiccoughing Solutions before the prefect meeting at noon. Severus had gotten a higher mark than her on their last assignment — he'd left his parchment in plain sight — and she was determined not to let that happen again.

The clock above the mantle in the Gryffindor common room struck twelve and began to chime. Lily looked up from her essay and swore; she'd lost track of the time. A group of nearby first years giggled.

Lily frowned at them. "Two points from Gryffindor." The first years' smiles vanished, replaced by looks of horror.

Lily left the common room and made for the staffroom on the ground floor, feeling somewhat gratified. She remembered being eleven years old and terrified to lose House points. Potter and his mates never minded, though, she thought. Even when they were first years, they'd thought getting in trouble was funny.

Inside the staffroom, Chester Fernsby, the Head Boy, was giving a lecture about enforcing curfew. He shot her a disappointed look as she took her place next to Remus.

Remus elbowed her gently. "You're late."

"Lost track of time," Lily replied out of the corner of her mouth. "But if Fernsby asks, I'm having terrible cramps. My time of the month, you know."

Remus smiled wryly. "That's my go-to as well."

Lily let out a quiet laugh, then stopped abruptly. Did he just —

"Sally and I are finishing up next month's patrol schedule," continued Chester Fernsby. "Please take a look at it and let Sally or myself know if you have any scheduling conflicts." He indicated the large sheet of parchment lying on the staff table, and the other prefects surged forward to get a look. Someone jostled Lily and she turned, annoyed.

"Oh," she said when she saw who it was. "Er, hi."

"Hello," said Regulus Black, who looked quite tall and much healthier than the last time she had seen him. Well, much was a bit of an overstatement. He still looked rather wan, and his lips were pale. But at least he didn't look like he was dying.

"You look… better," she offered. Heat rose up her neck.

Regulus looked vaguely amused. "It's incredible what Healing can do for a person."

"Madam Pomfrey's a miracle worker."

"I hear she had help," said Regulus. They reached the front of the queue, and Regulus bent over the schedule, running a finger down it. He made a thoughtful noise. "You're paired with Lupin and Fortescue this month." His eyes darted towards her. "Pity."

"Is it, now, Regulus?" asked a voice. Sally Dearborn was standing at the head of the staff table, her arms crossed. Lily shrank a little. Sally may have been shorter than she was, but her intensity could be scary. She was a bit like Marlene that way.

Regulus straightened at once. What little colour he had drained from his face. "Sally. I —"

"No, go on." Sally's voice was steely. "I'd love to hear more about what's wrong with the patrol schedule I've spent hours putting together."

"Nothing — nothing's wrong with it," said Regulus. "I just thought, you know, I have friends in other Houses, and —"

"Don't make me laugh," said Sally. Her eyes flicked from Regulus to Lily. "And you're mad if you think I'd pair you with a Muggle-born. Looking for someone new for target practice, are you?"

"That's not — I'm not —" spluttered Regulus. He ran a hand through his hair. "Never mind, alright?"

"Good answer," said Sally. "The schedule stays as it is, then."

"What was that about?" Lily asked Regulus once they were out of Sally's earshot. "It's a little early in the year to be on her bad side, don't you think?"

Regulus made a jerking movement that might have been an attempt at a shrug. "It's not… I don't know. She woke up on the wrong side of the bed, maybe."

His evasiveness reminded her uncomfortably of Severus' half-truths from the year before. Lily's heart sank. "What did Sally mean by target practice?"

Regulus looked at her, his expression pained. That was all the answer she needed.

"Right," said Lily. "Forget I asked. Say hi to Mulciber for me, will you?"

She walked away before he could respond, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She rejoined Remus and placed her hand on his arm. "Fancy walking back to the tower with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," said Remus. He waved good-bye to a pair of Ravenclaw prefects and they ducked out of the staffroom. "How's your patrol schedule looking, then?" Remus asked innocently as they climbed the hidden staircase that led to the second floor.

Lily looked at him incredulously. His expression was one of polite interest. "Is that Remus-speak for 'I saw you and Regulus pissing off Sally Dearborn and am dying to know the details'?"

Remus smiled. "I didn't realize you were fluent. Though of course there are shades of meaning that are lost in translation."

"Such as?"

"Well, I didn't realize you and Regulus knew each other, for a start," said Remus, skipping over the trick step on the staircase.

"We don't, really," said Lily. The climb to the second floor was making her heart pound. "I met him recently. He came to the hospital wing while I was there for my apprenticeship."

"You know," said Remus, "there are romance novels about patients and Healers. It's a very popular genre, I've heard."

His tone was mild, but Lily's heart beat even faster. "That's not what happened."

"Of course not," said Remus. "I was just making an observation."

"Well, your observation doesn't apply," said Lily. "Not to mention, Sally said something about 'target practice', and he went all funny. Like he felt guilty about something. He wouldn't tell me what she was referring to, but I'm not stupid. I can read between the lines."

Remus' brow creased. "So can I."

"I'm not getting involved with Death Eater rubbish again," said Lily. She felt tears threatening to well up in her eyes. "I had enough of that last year with… well, you know."

Remus hummed a little. "Do you really think Regulus is falling in with that lot?"

"What else am I supposed to think?"

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Remus muttered the password — "Semper fortis" — and they crawled in through the portrait hole. A small crowd had gathered near the bulletin board, where Peter Pettigrew was floating in the air, wearing a set of dress robes. James and Sirius appeared to be playing Muggle tennis with him, using their wands as rackets and Peter as the ball.

Lily watched Peter soar from one end of the room to the other, the ruffles on his dress robes fluttering. "I thought magic couldn't make people fly."

"It can't," said Remus. "At least, not until tonight. Never underestimate Sirius and James when they're bored."

"And they use this newfound magical discovery to play tennis," said Lily. "Your friends are idiots. Brilliant, but idiots."

"That's part of their appeal," said Remus. "They make me look quite good in comparison."

Lily snuck a glance at Remus, who appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in following Peter's trajectory through the air. "Are you going to tell Sirius about Regulus?" she asked. "About what he might be involved in?"

Remus gave her an affectionate smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, Lily. I'm sure he already knows."

Sirius was quite pleased to have figured out the magic that made his motorbike fly. Dorcas's motorbike, he corrected himself guiltily. He still didn't know what had happened to her. He had a nasty feeling Kreacher had found a loophole in his orders and had harmed her. He tried not to think about it too much.

He and James spent the following week pushing the limits of what could be charmed to fly. They started with Peter's dress robes and expanded from there. By Thursday, it took them all of ten minutes to make every chair in the Potions classroom do slow laps of the dungeon, hovering five feet off the ground. Professor Slughorn's delight at their cleverness had lasted nearly half the period but had ultimately been dampened by the realization that, once charmed, there was no way to bring the flying objects back to the ground. Slughorn had subsequently made a halfhearted attempt to punish them by asking that they stay after class to clean out the supply closet.

"Next Hogsmeade weekend's at the end of November," Peter reminded them for the third time as he Vanished the cobwebs from a shelf. "I think the Christmas line at Gladrags will be out, if you lot feel like getting me some new dress robes…"

"There's nothing wrong with your robes, Wormtail," said Sirius. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to see how many jars of pond slime he could juggle at once.

"Excuse me," said Peter. "They're flying around our dormitory as we speak."

"First Sluggy, now you," said James. He was hovering ten feet in the air, balancing precariously on his newly-charmed copy of Advanced Potion-Making. "Nobody recognizes genius around here."

"There are children in Africa who haven't got any robes at all," added Remus, who was ostensibly supervising them. "How do you think they'd feel to know that in Britain there are blokes who throw away a perfectly good set of dress robes just because they fly?"

"I hate you all," said Peter. "You're buying me new robes or I'm telling McGonagall who turned Bertram Aubrey into a hamster."

"I'd like nothing more than to buy you new robes, Pete," said Remus. "Unfortunately, I haven't got any money."

"Me neither," said Sirius.

"I'm calling your bluff," said Peter. "I'm going to tell McGonagall about Bertram after lunch."

"You can tell Minnie whatever you like," said Sirius. "I happen to have eyewitness proof that I was reading in the library while poor Bertie was growing whiskers on the third floor."

"You're joking," said Peter. "You were there! I saw you do it!"

"'Fraid not," said Sirius, adding another jar to his juggling routine. "Your eyes are playing tricks on you again, Pete." The jar slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground, shattering. Sirius swore loudly and hurled the remaining jars towards James, who dodged them easily. The textbook he was balancing on barely wobbled.

"Skinny git," said Sirius. "How do you move so fast?"

"Tell it to the Montrose Magpies," said James, preening a little. "You can write my letter of introduction. Speaking of, I hope you can aim a Bludger better than that when we face Slytherin."

Sirius' expression darkened. "I'll have no problem breaking a few Death Eater bones. Trust me. "

"How's Regulus doing, by the way?" asked Remus, as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Terrible, I assume," said Sirius, looking around for another jar he could throw. "If last week's Howler was anything to go by."

"Yeah, that was weird," said James. "I thought you were the problem child."

"So did I," said Sirius. "But they're sending me love letters all of a sudden. It doesn't make any sense."

"You've gotten more, then?" asked Remus. "Apart from the first letter?"

"Yeah," said Sirius sourly. "She sent flowers with the last one." He jabbed his wand at the jar of armadillo bile Peter was holding, and the jar exploded. Peter yelped as runny yellow liquid soaked the front of his robes.

"Padfoot," said James disapprovingly. He Vanished the mess with a wave of his wand. "It's not Pete's fault you've got a pair of maniacs for parents."

"Nah, I don't mind," said Peter. "If these had been my dress robes, though…"

Sirius laughed. "That gives me an idea, actually."

"Godric's teeth," said Peter. "Leave people's robes alone, will you?"

"Talk about a one-track mind, Pete," said Sirius, standing up and dusting off his knees. "It's nothing to do with robes. I think I know how to get some answers out of my lunatic family." He looked at Remus, batting his eyes. "May I be excused, Prefect Lupin?"

Remus looked vaguely disapproving, but he waved his hand. "Go on, then. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Sirius grinned. "You're giving me free rein, then. Excellent."

He took the steps to the Owlery two at a time and scanned the rafters for James' owl, Palatine. He spotted it asleep near the top of the Owlery, a grey bundle of feathers with a flat face. Sirius whistled, holding up a treat in his hands, and Palatine stirred. It swooped down to land on the perch beside Sirius.

"Good owl," said Sirius, letting Palatine nip at the treat. "This'll just take a second, then…" He pulled a bit of parchment and a quill out of his bag and began to write.

Andromeda,

Just wondering if you've heard anything from Uncle Cygnus about my parents. They've been sending some strange post to Hogwarts lately. I'd ask them myself, but we're not exactly on the best of terms. Which you've probably heard about already.

Anyway, write me if you know what they're up to. Hope you're well.

Your favourite cousin,

Sirius

The following morning at breakfast, Sirius was surprised to see Palatine among the flock of owls circling the Great Hall. "That was quick," he said as the owl landed on the table in front of him, a roll of parchment tied to its leg.

"Who'd you write to, then?" asked James, who was eating his fifth boiled egg of the morning. Protein for Quidditch, he'd told them.

"'Dromeda," said Sirius, unfurling the scroll. "Figured she'd know —" He broke off, staring at the parchment.

"What is it?" asked Remus.

"It's my letter," said Sirius. "The one I sent yesterday. I guess Palatine couldn't find her."

James stopped peeling his sixth egg and frowned. "That's weird. You don't think she might have been… hurt or anything, do you?"

"There's no way," said Sirius. "It would have been in the papers if something had happened to her. She's a Black." He glanced at Remus. "You're our designated Prophet reader — there hasn't been anything written about her, has there?"

Remus shook his head. "A family of Muggles in Essex vanished last week, but that was the most recent disappearance. Nothing about the Blacks."

Sirius relaxed. "Good."

"Is there anyone else in your family you can write?" asked Peter.

"Just one," said Sirius, deflating a bit. "My Uncle Alphard." He'd really been hoping to avoid writing to Alphard. He didn't want to bring up the events of the summer.

"You've always said he was alright," said James, resuming peeling his egg.

"Yeah, I guess," said Sirius. He reluctantly pulled out a quill and began a new letter to his uncle.

Uncle Alphard,

Have my parents been acting funny lately? Funnier than usual, I mean. Think they might have gotten Regulus and me mixed up — they're sending Howlers to him and love letters to me. It's probably nothing, but I thought I'd ask.

— Sirius

P.S. I tried to write to Andromeda, but the owl couldn't find her. I don't suppose you know anything about that, either?

P.P.S. Regulus told me about what you did for me over the summer. Thanks, I guess.

Uncle Alphard's response arrived a few days later and was equally brief.

Sirius,

It's good to hear from you. Yes, I know what happened to Andromeda, and I believe it explains the behaviour of your parents, but it's best we speak about it in person. When is your next Hogsmeade weekend? We can meet in the Three Broomsticks.

— Alphard

P.S. You're welcome. Don't make it a habit.

"Cryptic, isn't he?" asked James, reading over Sirius' shoulder.

Sirius snorted. "He's a Black. 'Dramatic' runs in the family." A pair of handsome eagle owls clutching creamy white envelopes in their beak landed next to him on the table, and Sirius groaned. "More letters from mummy dearest. Want to do me the honour, Prongs?"

"Thought you'd never ask," said James. He Transfigured the letters into tiny white eggs and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed, making a face. "Tastes like paper."

"Imagine that," said Remus as he buttered a piece of toast. "Are you going to meet your uncle, then, Sirius?"

Sirius shooed his parents' owls away from the table. "I guess it can't hurt."

"How crazy is he, on a scale of one to Walburga?" asked Peter.

"Maybe a three," said Sirius. "He's probably the least mental family member I've got — He works for the Ministry, even."

"That doesn't mean much," said Peter. "Mulciber's father works for the Ministry, and he's an idiot."

Sirius looked disdainfully towards the Slytherin table. "Mulciber's father weighs wands at the Security Desk. Uncle Alphard, on the other hand — he's an Obliviator."

Peter whistled, and Remus' eyes widened. "An Obliviator? Surely your family doesn't… take advantage of his talents?"

Sirius and James exchanged a glance. "Not that I'm aware of," said Sirius. "Though if I had been Obliviated, I wouldn't remember, would I?" He smirked at his joke, but Remus continued to look worried.

That evening, Sirius attached a final letter to Palatine's leg.

Uncle Alphard,

Glad someone knows what's going on, at least. We go to Hogsmeade on the twenty-eighth of November.

See you in the Three Broomsticks.

— Sirius

On Sunday evening, Severus huddled in a corner of the Slytherin common room with the other Followers, waiting for Mulciber to return from detention. Rosier and Wilkes were engrossed in an aggressive game of Wizard's Chess, while Avery stood behind Wilke's chair, offering encouragement to both sides. Regulus watched silently, sketching the white queen in his journal and frowning occasionally at what he perceived to be a bad play.

Severus was only half-paying attention to the game; he was focused on making annotations in the margins of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He dipped his quill in ink and turned to the page titled 'Elixir to Induce Euphoria'. Add a sprig of peppermint, he wrote. He was bent so low over the book that his nose was nearly touching the page. Counteracts the side-effects of singing and —

Regulus nudged him with his foot and Severus looked up. Mulciber was looming over their table. A drop of dark red landed on the chessboard.

"Alright, Augustus?" asked Avery. "Are you bleeding?" He pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of his robes, but Mulciber waved him away.

"Give me a chair, will you?" growled Mulciber, and Wilkes leapt out of his seat. Mulciber sat down with a grunt, touching his hand to one of his ears. It came away bloody.

Regulus closed his journal. He stared at Mulciber's hand, horrified. "What happened? Was it Sally? Did you —"

Mulciber let out a mirthless laugh. "You think Sally Dearborn is capable of a curse like this? No. This is Bellatrix's handiwork."

Regulus looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Bellatrix Black?"

Severus resisted the urge to fling his Potions book at Regulus' head. "The name is familiar to you, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," said Regulus. "She's my cousin. But why would she —"

"Well, I failed her, didn't I?" asked Mulciber. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing at Avery with one of his meaty hands. Avery hurriedly pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it into Mulciber's palm. "We were told to make Dearborn disappear. We failed. As your mentor, I have taken the brunt of the punishment, but make no mistake — there's plenty of blame to go around." He glared at them all as he spoke, holding the handkerchief to his ear.

Severus wanted to roll his eyes but thought better of it. As far as he was concerned, Mulciber's plan in Hogsmeade had been so idiotic he deserved whatever punishment he got. "Did Bella say anything else?"

"Yeah, she sends hugs and kisses to her precious little half-blood prince," said Mulciber sarcastically. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, arse-licker?"

Severus said nothing, though his insides were blazing with fury. He wouldn't give Mulciber the satisfaction.

Mulciber regarded Severus a few seconds longer. Seeming disappointed Severus wasn't taking the bait, he continued. "Bella's giving us another chance. And if you lot muck this one up as well, she won't have to kill you, because I'll do it myself."

Regulus looked so worried that Severus took pity on him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Regulus jumped about five feet in the air and nearly fell out of his armchair.

"Oh," said Regulus. "Sorry, Sev. Didn't realize that was you."

Severus removed his hand as if it had been burned. "That's quite alright," he said through gritted teeth. He swore to himself he'd never attempt another comforting gesture again.

"So when are we going hunting?" asked Wilkes. Nobody responded. He looked around the table incredulously, clearly expecting a laugh. "Come on, Dearborn? Deer? Hunting? That was funny…"

"It really wasn't," said Severus. "And I doubt we'll be able to approach Dearborn until our fearless leader Augustus has his weekends freed up. After all, how will we know what to do without his direction?"

Mulciber looked murderous, but he didn't argue.

"It's impossible to get to her during the week, anyway," said Rosier fairly, leaning back in his chair. "She never goes anywhere alone."

Severus nodded. "We shouldn't do it in the castle, either."

Mulciber opened his mouth, then shut it again, glaring Severus. After a moment his curiosity got the better of him. "Why can't we do it in the castle?"

"The walls have ears, Augustus," said Severus. "And eyes. And mouths."

Regulus' eyes widened as if realizing something for the first time. "The portraits."

"Obviously," said Severus. "And the suits of armour, and Merlin-knows-what-else that's been charmed to keep an eye on students. Better to do it off grounds entirely."

Mulciber snorted. "I knew that already."

"Of course you did," said Severus. "That's the reason you asked why we can't attack Dearborn in the castle."

Mulciber rose out of his chair, his beady eyes dangerously narrow. "You —"

"Come on, Augustus," said Rosier, stretching his lanky arms into the air. "Sev's just being his charming self, as usual. No need to take it personally. What else did Bella say?"

"That was the gist of it," said Mulciber. He pulled the bloodied handkerchief away from his ear and examined it before pressing it against his other ear. "I'll let you lot know if I hear anything else." He glanced around the common room, which was mostly empty. Even the emerald fire in the hearth had died down to glowing coals. "Right, you lot clean this place up. I'm going to bed."

"Some bonding activity," mumbled Avery, watching Mulciber shuffle down the stairs that led to the dormitories.

"I heard that," Mulciber called over his shoulder. "And I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Edmund. We all know what kind of bonding activities you like."

Avery flinched, looking genuinely hurt. Severus considered trying to comfort him, but remembered his failed attempt with Regulus and thought better of it.

"What a wanker," said Wilkes once Mulciber was out of earshot. He gave Avery's shoulder a soft punch. "Don't worry about him. We all know he's compensating for something."

That night, Severus sat in his bed, staring across the dormitory at Mulciber's sleeping form. It'd be so easy to curse him. He could use Sectumsempra, just a little, to ensure Mulciber's ears continued to bleed throughout the night. Mulciber probably wouldn't even feel it. He'd simply wake up in the morning completely deaf. Not even Madam Pomfrey would be able to heal him, not with a spell like Sectumsempra.

Across the room, Avery cleared his throat, looking pointedly at him. Severus glanced down; he hadn't even realized he'd been turning over his wand in his hands. He shrugged a shoulder at Avery and placed his wand on his bedside table.

Severus stewed in bed for a long time, his thoughts dark. Finally, he pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making from under his pillow. If Mulciber wanted a rival, Severus would give him one.

A soft scratching sound echoed through the dormitory as he made an inscription on the inside cover of his Potions text.

This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.

A/N: I have officially written 100,000 words about Harry Potter's parents! And there's so much more to come... I don't even remember how long year 6 is but its looong.

(Also, remember how I said I would update on Wednesdays? I think the universe heard me and has been conspiring to make every Wednesday the most inconvenient day of the week. Let's see if the streak continues!)