Severus knew that the Muggle-born Protection Act would become law long before the news appeared in the Daily Prophet. A few of the other Followers had family members in the House of Lords, and Evan Rosier had been predicting for weeks that the bill would be narrowly approved.

"My great-uncle's voting 'yes' because he owes the Prewetts a favour," Rosier explained to Severus. "Though privately, of course, his opinions are somewhat different…"

After the House of Lords approved the Act, Professor Slughorn summoned Severus to his office to discuss how the new law applied to Tobias, his Muggle father. Only two other Slytherins attended the meeting. One, a fourth year with curly blonde hair, blushed as she admitted that her second cousin once removed had married a Muggle. The other student, a gangly seventh year, had a sister-in-law whose grandfather was Muggle-born. Both students spoke in hushed tones about their relatives. When they finished, they looked at Severus expectantly, waiting for him to reveal the non-magical blood in his family.

Severus said nothing. His last name gave his blood status away. Let them wonder exactly how much Muggle blood ran through his veins.

The meeting was relatively painless, and Severus spent the majority of the time thinking of potential annotations to his Potions book. Professor Slughorn let him leave with little fuss after he promised to look at the pamphlets that had been pressed into his hands.

On his way back to the common room, Severus conjured a little green fire in his hand and burned the pamphlets. Tobias had survived perfectly well for the past sixteen years. He didn't need Severus' help to live through a few more.

"What'd Sluggy have to say?" jeered Mulciber as Severus rejoined the Followers, who were lounging by the hearth. "Did he offer you safe houses for your extended Muggle family?"

Severus didn't respond. Regulus, it appeared, had finally left his dormitory and was sitting at one end of the couch, sketching in his journal. As Severus sat beside him, Regulus dipped his head a little in acknowledgement. Severus nodded back and opened his Potions textbook.

"Are you deaf, Snape?" asked Mulciber loudly.

Rosier was lying on his stomach on the carpet and playing with a set of Divination cards. "Really, Augustus?"

"It's just a question," said Mulciber. He trained his small blue eyes on Severus, who was trying very hard to annotate the chapter on Gopalott's Third Law. "How much mud runs through your veins, Snape? Are you half-mud? Three-quarters?"

Rosier shrugged. "Does it matter? Sev's a Follower like the rest of us, isn't he?" He sat up and pulled a different set of cards out of his pocket, beginning to shuffle. "Who fancies a game of Exploding Snap?"

Mulciber seemed determined not to be distracted. "He's at least a half-blood. Who knows how many Muggle relatives he's got? I bet there's less than a quarter of magical blood running through those dirty veins of his —"

Severus' quill stilled. "Astonishing," he said.

Regulus glanced up from his journal. "Severus. Don't —"

"It's simply remarkable. That a talentless imbecile who skates by on the merits of his well-connected father would think himself capable of winning a verbal joust. It's as if he has no insight at all."

Mulciber's face had gone nearly purple. "You filthy —"

Severus pulled his wand out. "Langlock."

Mulciber began to choke on his own tongue. The other Followers exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"Sev," said Avery weakly. "Put him right. He's our mentor."

"His father's money is our mentor," said Severus. He kept his wand trained on Mulciber, who was making strangled honking sounds. The eyes of the entire common room were on them now, and Severus decided it was time to clarify a few things before speculation about his blood status grew out of control. It was bad enough to have 'Snape' for a last name; he couldn't afford for people to realize that his father was a Muggle.

"For the record," said Severus. Each of his words was as sharp as a knife. "No Death Eater alive despises my Muggle heritage more than I."

The room fell silent as Mulciber stopped fighting against the Tongue-Tying curse. A few prefects had half-risen from tables, looking concerned.

"If anyone else would like to comment on my blood status," said Severus, "I invite them to come forward, and I will do them worse than a schoolyard hex." He lifted his wand and removed the spell from Mulciber. Then he stormed down the stairs to the sixth years' dormitory, clutching his Potions book his grip.

Mulciber made no further remarks about Severus' family after that, and Severus did his utmost not to give Mulciber the opportunity. He stopped spending time with the other Followers outside of the required activities, and at night he always drew the curtains around his four-poster bed, casting a few protection charms just to be safe. During his free periods, he retreated to the library, a place he was certain Mulciber would never willingly set foot.

Severus had always considered himself a bit of a loner, but after a week of library trips he realized that wasn't exactly true; during his early years at Hogwarts, he had Lily to spend time with, and after Lily, he'd had Bella and the Intents. This was the first time nobody bothered coming after him when he stalked off.

He hated the solitude. He'd thought Regulus, at least, would have gone after him — it was the least he could do, after all the support Severus had shown him — but even the youngest scion to the Blacks was keeping his distance, it seemed. He was probably too busy hiding from his problems in his dormitory to bother checking on Severus.

After a week of the other Followers pointedly ignoring Severus' snit, he began to feel smug, instead of wounded. He'd suspected all along that their acceptance of him had been a front, and this was proof.

He found a bookcase in the library that had a false back leading to a hidden room the size of a broom closet. The room smelled musty and was completely empty except for a strange mirror which leaned against one wall and seemed to reflect his thoughts. Severus set up his cauldron in the middle of the hidden room and began to alternate between experimenting with potions and using the mirror to practice Occlumency.

At first, the mirror showed him what he could only describe as wish-fulfilment fantasies — sometimes in the form of the Dark Lord, shrouded in black, bestowing Severus with great power while Mulciber cowered in the background. Other times, he was arm-in-arm with Lily, strolling through what appeared to be the French countryside, far from the war. The images the mirror showed, though all variations on the same theme, were never boring or repetitive; one memorable evening, he spent hours watching himself play Quidditch for England, eventually winning the World Cup while a jealous James Potter and Sirius Black fumed from the stands.

It took Severus weeks to mount any sort of Occlumency defence against these images, so powerful was the longing they produced in him. At last, he managed to stump the mirror for a full minute. Only his reflection gazed back at him from the glass. Triumphantly — foolishly — Severus reached out with his mind towards the mirror, wondering what sort of object it was —

He woke up on the floor a full day later, sweating and feverish, as if he had the flu. That was the last time he attempted to use Legilimency on the mirror.

Regulus caught up with him one day as he was leaving the library. "Severus," said Regulus. "How are you?"

"Never better," said Severus dryly. "And yourself?"

"Great," said Regulus, who looked anything but. He glanced furtively around the corridor, which was mostly deserted, save for a pair of gossiping Ravenclaws. "Look, you took off after the last ritual, so you didn't hear — there was an announcement —"

Finally. Severus' heart leapt. "Mulciber's stepping down, then? Buckled under the pressure of being mentor, did he?"

"What?" said Regulus. "No — not at all, in fact."

"Ah," said Severus. He began to consider that he was spending entirely too much time with only a wish-fulfilment mirror for company.

"The announcement came from my cousin," said Regulus. "Bella."

"Ah," said Severus, hoping this second 'ah' sounded significantly more intelligent than the first.

"She's been sending me hints for ages through owl post, but she finally decided to tell everyone. She Floo-called us, using the fireplace in — in Dungeon You-Know-Which. She couldn't give many details, but she said — the Dark Lord is going to retaliate. Because the Muggle-born Protection Act passed. And he wants to target more students."

If Severus hadn't been practising his Occlumency so regularly, he might have thought of Lily. "A retaliation? Here at Hogwarts?"

"That's what it sounded like," said Regulus.

"But we've already taken care of Sally Dearborn." Though he still had no idea how. "If we go around vanishing all the blood traitors from school we'll be caught and expelled. So what does she want from us?"

"She didn't say exactly," admitted Regulus. "We won't be the ones carrying out the Dark Lord's plan, though. It'll come from higher up. You know — from Primaries, I expect."

"Nonsense," said Severus. He stalked purposefully through the corridor, his oversized robes billowing behind him. "Not even the Dark Lord himself can get into the school as long as Dumbledore's here."

Regulus followed him unhurriedly. "What makes you say that?"

"Lucius recruited us," said Severus, as plainly as if he were explaining something to a child. "What possible interest could the Death Eaters have in a handful of underage students if they were capable of infiltrating the school themselves?"

"The unmonitored Floo —"

"— must have some sort of limitation we don't know about," said Severus as they descended the spiral staircase to the first floor. "Otherwise the Death Eaters would have no use for us. But we are valued, and it is for our connection to the school. Lucius said it himself, during our first meeting — we are to be the Dark Lord's eyes and ears at Hogwarts."

Regulus looked unconvinced. "Bella seemed fairly certain…"

"She has been wrong before," said Severus. "Your family is not known for its mental stability."

"I thought you didn't want people to make assumptions about families."

That was fair, and Severus knew it. "Apologies."

Regulus shrugged. "Bella said we're not to get involved when it happens. The Dark Lord needs us to be obviously innocent. Lest we…" He made finger quotes in the air. "Suffer his displeasure."

That was interesting. Severus nodded. "I appreciate the information."

"Anytime," said Regulus. They came to a stop on the first floor landing, and Regulus hesitated.

"I don't need accompaniment to my lessons, Regulus," said Severus.

"I wasn't planning on it," replied Regulus cooly. "I only wanted to say — you've got friends in Slytherin. You know that, right?"

Severus' lips curled. "Name three."

"Myself," said Regulus. "Plus Edmund Avery and Evan Rosier. They really do think you're alright."

"I'm touched," said Severus, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you mean to say you're worried about me, Regulus?"

Regulus nearly smiled. Severus was glad he didn't. Regulus looked too much like Sirius when he was happy. "I don't know if you've noticed," said Regulus, "but worrying is something I'm exceptionally good at. So, yes. I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Your concern is misplaced," said Severus. "I'm doing excellent."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around at the moment, isn't there?" said Regulus. "So many of us are just doing fantastic."

For an instant, Severus softened. Regulus might be indecisive and neurotic, but he was only trying to survive. Just like Severus. Just like — don't think about her — so many students, Muggle-born and otherwise.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" asked Severus. "Being caught in a war that's been brewing for decades. Had we been born five years earlier, or later, we might have been able to actually enjoy our adolescence."

"It is a shame," agreed Regulus. "I should write to the Dark Lord about it… send him a strongly worded letter. He ought to listen — I'm heir to the House of Black, you know."

That was almost funny. "Am I living in an alternate reality?" asked Severus. "When did you grow a sense of humour?"

Regulus smiled. Severus hated it. "I'm trying not to care so much about things I can't control. There's no point." He shrugged. "Even if we make it out of Hogwarts alive, we're all bound to die in the war anyway."

He gave a little wave as he walked off, leaving Severus at the base of the stairs.

The last weekend in November arrived more quickly than Sirius had expected. He hadn't been dreading it, or even keeping particular tabs on the passage of time, but he was startled nonetheless to wake up Saturday morning and realize that he would be meeting his uncle in Hogsmeade that afternoon.

Remus was watching him closely at breakfast. "Are you nervous?"

Sirius scoffed. "You're projecting. I've never been nervous in my life."

"You're not eating," said Peter around a mouthful of sausage. He gestured with a fork towards Sirius' plate.

"That's because the toast doesn't taste right," said Sirius. "Not because I'm nervous."

"You know," said Remus from behind the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, "sometimes our feelings can make food taste funny."

"I don't have feelings," said Sirius. "I'm fine. Maybe I'm just not hungry because my so-called mates are sitting around staring at me."

"I wasn't staring at you," said James, who hadn't been; he'd been gazing down the table at Parvana, mouth slightly ajar.

Sirius waved his knife towards where Parvana was sitting. "Do us all a favour and ask her to 'practise Quidditch manoeuvres' with you again, why don't you? At least then we won't have to put up with you mooning —"

"I thought I was the moony one," said Remus, and they all groaned. Peter flicked a bit of egg at Remus, which bounced off his forehead.

Sirius got up from the table. "You lot are impossible. I'm leaving."

"But we're not allowed to go to Hogsmeade for another hour," said Peter. "Are you sure you're not sneaking off to write your uncle and tell him not to come?"

Sirius raised his eyes towards the heavy clouds drifting slowly across the enchanted ceiling. "How many secret passages to Hogsmeade have we found, twelve? Some of us don't like to be late, Pete."

Sirius didn't actually bother to take one of the hidden tunnels to Hogsmeade. It had snowed overnight for the first time all term, and he wanted to find out if snow was more fun as a dog. He transformed behind one of the greenhouses, then raced to Hagrid's hut to roll in the snowdrifts that had gathered over the vegetable patch. After giving himself a good shake to be rid of the ice crystals matting his fur, he set off for the Forbidden Forest, hoping to spot a yeti shambling through the trees.

He didn't find a yeti, but he did manage to disturb a couple of ice pixies slumbering in a bush. Their glass-like wings beat wildly as they pursued him through the forest, though he eventually managed to lose them by transforming back into a human. They zoomed right past him, chittering angrily, and he made a rude hand gesture at their backs.

It was a short walk to the train tracks that ran along the outskirts of Hogsmeade, so Sirius adjusted his scarf and tamped down the snow with his boots as loudly as he could while he walked, trying to drown out his thoughts. He should never have written to Uncle Alphard. Not even finding out if Andromeda was alright was worth getting tangled up with his family again. Besides, what would Andromeda say if she knew he was sticking his neck out like this for her? Nothing kind, he was sure. Her tongue was as sharp as his mother's.

The snow crunched under Sirius' boots. What if Uncle Alphard expected Sirius to thank him for Obliviating his parents? What if he thought Sirius owed him a favour?

I owe him nothing, decided Sirius. I wasn't the one who asked him to Obliviate them. He can speak to Reg if he wants a favor.

Sirius reached Hogsmeade Station and turned on to Main Street, dragging his feet. As reluctant as he was, the Three Broomsticks drew him forward like a magnet, looking deceptively inviting. Soft golden light poured from its frosted windows, and there was a Christmas wreath on the door. Inside, silver and gold baubles were strung along the walls, and Christmas trees stood in the corners, their tinseled boughs grazing the floor.

The pub was filled near to bursting with students enjoying the last Hogsmeade weekend before the Christmas holidays, and Sirius had to elbow his way through a group of Hufflepuffs who were taking up entirely too much space. He ignored their protests as he scanned the crowded pub. At last, he spotted his Uncle Alphard, who was sitting alone in a corner booth.

Sirius pushed past another gaggle of students and slid into the seat across from him. "Uncle Alphard. Hi."

The deep lines around Uncle Alphard's eyes crinkled as he smiled benevolently at Sirius. His long black hair, streaked with grey at the temples, was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and even his neatly trimmed beard was speckled with grey. He looked older than Sirius remembered.

"Sirius," said Uncle Alphard, inclining his head. "It's good to see you again."

Sirius honestly couldn't say the same, so he remained silent.

Uncle Alphard arched his thick eyebrows, waiting for a response, but Sirius said nothing. This didn't seem to bother Uncle Alphard; on the contrary, he pulled out a weathered-looking wand and began to polish it with a rag. "I've ordered us Butterbeers," he said, examining his wand. "You like Butterbeer, I assume?"

Sirius grunted. Uncle Alphard, unperturbed, continued to polish his wand while humming a tune under his breath. After a few minutes, Madam Rosmerta bustled over to the booth and placed the Butterbeers in front of them.

"'Ta, Rosmerta," said Uncle Alphard. He winked at her, and she blushed a little before disappearing behind the bar. Uncle Alphard raised his mug towards Sirius as if making a toast and took a sip. He closed his eyes and made an appreciative noise.

"Excellent, as always. Now, let's get to business, shall we?" He picked his weathered wand up off the table and cast several privacy charms around their booth.

Sirius' ears popped as the privacy charms dampened the air around them. "Why do we need —"

"Family secrets, my boy," replied Uncle Alphard. Appearing satisfied with his spellwork, he set his wand on the table and leaned towards Sirius. "Now. I realize you are not grateful that I have modified your parents' memories."

Well. At least Sirius didn't have to spell that out for him. He crossed his arms. "So what?"

"Regardless of your feelings towards the situation, I removed those memories for your benefit."

Sirius snorted. "Some benefit. I think your Obliviation might've addled their minds."

"Pish-posh," said Uncle Alphard. "I know my trade. Your parents' instability is their own doing."

"I'm not so sure," said Sirius. "You're certain you didn't make them forget that I'm a Gryffindor and a disgrace to the family name?"

"Of course not. Obliviation has limitations, you know."

Sirius took a sip of Butterbeer, watching Uncle Alphard closely. He seemed to be telling the truth. But if Uncle Alphard hadn't modified his parent's memories, then why…

"My parents are sending me love letters now, did you know that? Do you have anything to do with that?"

"Your parents' decisions are their own," said Uncle Alphard. "Though I will admit I had heard they are trying a new tactic with you."

"Yeah, and it's bonkers," said Sirius.

Uncle Alphard chuckled. "Be that as it may, they have their reasons for writing to you." and pulled a newspaper clipping from an inner coat pocket. He glanced around furtively to make sure nobody was watching, then placed the clipping on the table. "This should clarify some things."

Sirius examined the newspaper clipping. One side contained a black-and-white advertisement of a square contraption with a long hose attached. That thing was called a hoover, wasn't it? He'd seen something similar in his Muggle Studies textbook. What was Uncle Alphard doing with a clipping from a Muggle newspaper? Sirius flipped it over, and his eyes widened. This side had been cut from the wedding announcements, and there were only a few lines of text.

Mr E. Tonks and Miss A. Black

The marriage took place on September 12, 1977, in Plymouth, between Edward, son of Mr and Mrs Robert Tonks, and Andromeda, daughter of Mr and Mrs Cygnus Black.

There was no accompanying picture. "Andromeda," said Sirius once he had finished reading. He looked at Uncle Alphard. "She got married? To a Muggle? That last name, it isn't..."

"Edward Tonks is Muggle-born."

"Just as bad."

Uncle Alphard nodded gravely. "The situation is worse than you think."

"How could it possibly be worse?"

"She's pregnant. Pretty far along, in fact."

Sirius groaned and buried his head in his hands. "Of course she is." He'd always thought Andromeda had been the sensible one, but if she'd gotten herself pregnant out of wedlock — and with a Muggle-born, no less… He tossed the newspaper clipping at Uncle Alphard without looking up. "She's alright, though? Uncle Cygnus, when he found out, did he hurt her, or…?"

"She's safe for the time being, but it was a narrow thing," said Uncle Alphard.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You wouldn't like the answer."

Sirius dropped his hands from his face and took several large gulps of Butterbeer. "I'm going to need something stronger than this."

Uncle Alphard didn't smile. "You understand now why I Obliviated your parents, last summer?"

"So they wouldn't try to kill me, too?"

"More or less," said Uncle Alphard. "I predicted — correctly, it seems — that when Andromeda's desertion came to light, your parents would feel inclined to give you one last chance to be part of the family."

"They're only giving me 'one last chance' because they've forgotten I've already pulled an Andromeda."

Uncle Alphard lifted a shoulder. "And?"

Sirius remembered that Uncle Alphard had been a Slytherin. "Right. It doesn't matter because the ends justify the means and all that. I forgot that's how you people think."

Uncle Alphard's lips, almost hidden under his salt-and-pepper beard, curled into a smile. "Exactly."

"I still don't know why you bothered," said Sirius. "I don't care about my parents' second chances. I want nothing to do with them. Nothing. And I'm of age, so legally, I can leave. I've already left, in fact."

"You are of age," agreed Uncle Alphard. "And you are the heir to the Blacks. If you would only return to Grimmauld Place to accept your responsibilities as firstborn —"

"No," said Sirius loudly, but Uncle Alphard spoke over him.

"Think, Sirius! Think of all that that could be yours. Not only Grimmauld Place, but our other family properties, the vaults at Gringotts, your father's trove of artefacts…"

"Bunch of shoddy Dark objects that can kill you in about ten different ways," said Sirius. "I'll pass, thanks."

Uncle Alphard looked pained. "You're being short-sighted. Think of the good you could do with your parent's fortune in your hands."

As he spoke, everything began to make sense, and Sirius groaned. "You just want my parents' money, don't you? Is that why you Obliviated them, so you could collect a favour from the heir to the House of Black…"

"It is more than a favour!" Uncle Alphard pounded a fist on the table. "If you would reconcile with your parents — they're not expecting much, just for you to do the bare minimum around the Black estate — the House of Black would be yours within a decade, and we could —"

"No," said Sirius. "I wouldn't go back to them, even for a year. Even for a month. I'd rather —"

Uncle Alphard's eyes were dark. "If you knew who needed that money, you would not be so flippant."

"Tell me, then." Sirius leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm all ears."

Uncle Alphard let out a strained sigh. "You have heard of the Dark Lord, I assume?"

"That nutter my parents have been worshipping?" asked Sirius. "The Muggle-hating one? Yeah, I know of him. So what?"

"The situation outside of your precious castle is… perilous. A darkness is spreading across Wizarding Britain." Uncle Alphard glanced around the pub before leaning closer. His fingers curled around his wand. "Some people — Dumbledore included, mind — can tell that things are going to get worse before they get better. There is — a group being formed to oppose this darkness. These are the people who need support."

"Oh," said Sirius. "So you want me to fund Dumbledore and his secret club. Wasn't aware he was that hard up, he looks pretty well off in the Great Hall during meals —"

"Not just money," said Uncle Alphard. There was a hunger in his grey eyes. "Safehouses. Magical secrets, guarded by our family for generations... These could be the key to giving our side the advantage —"

"No," said Sirius. "I won't. I've waited seventeen years to be free of my parents. I'm not about to give that up just so your band of revolutionaries can get their grubby paws on some extra Galleons."

"But you won't have to wait much longer to be free of them!" Uncle Alphard banged his wand on the table when making his point, and red sparks shot into the air. "Your parents are not going to live forever. There is a war brewing, and casualties are increasing. Besides, you have memorized our family tree. You know that us Blacks are not blessed with long lifespans. I give your parents ten years more to live, at most."

Ten years was close enough to forever for Sirius's liking. Uncle Alphard shook his head at the look on Sirius' face. "If you don't reconcile with your parents, Regulus will inherit everything — our fortune, property, possessions — in a mere handful of years."

"And I'm sure he'd put it all to good use," said Sirius. "Invest it, or something. He's sensible."

"Regulus Black is being courted by Death Eaters," growled Uncle Alphard. "That's where the money would go."

"I don't care," said Sirius. "I won't do what you want. I'm not going back to Grimmauld Place."

"Then you are a fool."

Sirius scoffed. "Oh, please. Do you have any idea what my life at Grimmauld Place has been like? You're as twisted as the rest of them, demanding that your seventeen-year-old nephew return to that hellhole just so you can get your hands on the family gold —"

"Sirius," said Uncle Alphard."We are family. I care for you —"

"You care about what I can do for you." Sirius' head was starting to hurt. This was why he didn't like dealing with his family. Even the best of them were terrible. "I'm going back to the castle," he announced, standing up. He flicked a few Sickles onto the table. "Nice chat, Uncle Alphard. Best of luck with the renegades. "

Lily didn't go to Hogsmeade with Marlene and Mary; instead, she headed straight for the library. Madam Pince had scrutinized Lily from head to toe, surely suspicious that any student would rather be in the library than in Hogsmeade, but even she couldn't turn up her nose at a permission slip from Professor McGonagall. That was how Lily had ended up hunched at a small table in the very back of the Restricted Section, poring over a black leather tome that smelled of blood and was entitled Hunting Nightmares: How to Find and Capture Dark and Dangerous Beasts.

After a few minutes, she sighed and shut the book, which released a puff of dust from between its pages. Hunting Nightmares was excellent at describing were-creature dissections in excruciating detail, but it was no help in locating Sally Dearborn. She'd made a note of an obscure tracking spell listed in the appendix, but seeing as Sally wasn't a Dark or dangerous creature, she wasn't sure the spell would even work.

She returned Hunting Nightmares to its shelf and tried to ignore Madam Pince's piercing glare as she left the library. The corridors of the castle were nearly deserted, and Lily slipped into the empty Gryffindor common room with an idea percolating in her mind.

She took the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories, but instead of entering her own dormitory, she snuck carefully to the top of the staircase, where the seventh-year girls slept.

"Homenum revelio," she whispered, pointing her wand at the door. Nothing happened.

Lily relaxed a little. "Alohomora."

The door swung open, and Lily crept inside. The dormitory was significantly larger than her own; nine beds lined the circular room. Her breath caught when she saw the fourth bed from the entrance. The sheets were perfectly taught, as if it hadn't been slept in for some time, and the bedside table was conspicuously empty. Although it looked like a hotel bed, waiting for its next occupant, at one point it must have belonged to Sally.

It's still Sally's, Lily corrected herself. Because she's not dead. She can't be.

The trunk at the foot of the bed had been left unlatched and was empty as well. Sally's father must have come to collect her things. When had that happened? Lily was certain she would have noticed if Caradoc Dearborn had been walking around Gryffindor tower. The man had been in the Prophet nonstop; he was practically a celebrity.

Lily dropped to her knees at the side of the bed and wordlessly lit the tip of her wand. She peered under the bed, hoping the house-elves had missed a spot in their cleaning.

She didn't find what she was looking for under the bed, but her search of the chest of drawers across the room was more successful. Something gleamed as she passed her wand across the bottommost drawer, and her heart leapt.

"Accio," she whispered. A single, golden hair zoomed into her hand. It wasn't werewolf fur — which the author of Hunting Nightmares had recommended most highly for the spell she had copied — but it would have to do.

Lily clutched the hair in her fist and scanned the room to make sure nothing was out of place. Then she raced down the stairs and pushed open the room to her own dormitory. When she saw who was inside, she skidded to a halt.

James Potter and Parvana were entangled in the centre of the room, their backs to the door. Lily's first thought was that they were engaged in an activity which ought to be kept very private. Upon further inspection, though, it appeared that Parvana was in the middle of some sort of complicated stretching exercise. James Potter was practically draped on top of her, and he seemed to be attempting to extend her arm past its natural range of motion.

The door slammed shut of its own accord behind Lily. Parvana and James sprang apart, noticing her for the first time.

"Er," said Lily. She still wasn't confident that what she had just seen were exercises.

Parvana's face was scarlet. "Oh, Lily! Hi. We were, just, erm…"

"Stretching," said James, who didn't seem embarrassed in the least.

Lily blinked. "How did you even get in here? I thought — boys aren't allowed in the girls' dormitories, the staircase —"

"Oh, there's a trick to those stairs," said James. "I only had to —" He broke off as Parvana made a movement which caught his attention. He leaned forward and helped Parvana extend her arm so far it seemed about to pop out of her shoulder joint.

"You see," said James over his shoulder to Lily, with the air of having explained this before, "Parv's arms are a quarter-inch shorter than your average Seeker's, which means she needs to improve her range of motion if she's going to stand a chance in the professional leagues. I'm teaching her these exercises my aunt used to do, it's called ashtanga. Wanna learn?"

Those stretching exercises seemed awfully intimate if you asked Lily. "Erm, no thanks," she said. It was so hot all of a sudden. Wasn't it supposed to be snowing outside? "Sorry, I didn't realize — I'll just be getting on, then…"

"We were just about to leave," said Parvana. "We need to go to Hogsmeade, James has ordered us a book —" She sat up straight and adjusted her robes. Lily frowned. Were stretching exercises supposed to make your robes that rumpled?

"Oh, er, no need to leave," said Lily. "I was just going to — I'll just go study in the toilet, I guess —" God, what was she even saying?

"You're going to study," repeated James. "In the loo."

Well, she certainly didn't need to put up with that tone from him. "I've got my period," snapped Lily, and James' eyes widened in horror. Good. He ought to be embarrassed about something. "So yes, I'll be in the loo if you need me. Which I'm assuming you won't."

She fled into the toilet before James could respond, locking the door behind her. She sank to the floor slowly and pressed her hands to her cheeks, which felt like they were on fire. James and Parvana? When had that happened? It was true that James hadn't been bothering her as much this year, but she had assumed that was because he was maturing. Clearly, she had missed something.

Lily slapped her cheeks a little, trying to get a handle on herself. It didn't matter. They made a cute couple. And it wasn't like she had feelings for him, anyway. She was just used to the old joke about Potter being in love with Evans. Well, if he was doing stretching exercises with Parvana, he had clearly outgrown that childish infatuation. Which was a good thing, because he had been bloody annoying.

So everything was fine, really.

Lily brought her hand away from her face and uncurled her fingers, relieved to see the blonde strand of hair still curled in her palm. She set the hair carefully on the floor beside her and pulled her notes on Hunting Nightmares out of her bag. She began to practise the wand movements of the tracking spell while trying desperately not to listen to whatever was going on in the dormitory, which involved quite a lot of whispering and the occasional giggle. It was none of her business. And besides, she had work to do.

It took her the better part of an hour to get the spell working, partly because of its complexity, and partly because she kept getting distracted by the damned giggles coming from behind the door. Just as she was about to give up on the spell as a lost cause, she heard footsteps in the dormitory, followed by the slam of a door.

Lily listened for a moment. The footsteps were descending the staircase, and the dormitory was silent. Parvana and James had finally left, then. She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned her focus back to the spell, which required not only difficult wand movements but also precise gestures from her free hand.

After another five minutes, she completed the spell, and the strand of hair on the floor began to glow. Lily tried to calm her pounding heart. It might not work, she reminded herself. It isn't werewolf fur, after all. She picked up the hair and placed it in the palm of her hand. It spun around a couple of times before coming to a stop, quivering like the needle of a compass.

Lily moved her hand, and the hair spun slightly. Excitement thrummed through her like electricity. It really was like a compass! It seemed to be pointing away from the dormitory.

Hardly believing her luck, Lily scrambled out of the toilet and down the stairs. She followed her makeshift compass out of Gryffindor tower and down many flights of stairs until she was crossing the Entrance Hall and descending into the dungeons.

The dungeons of Hogwarts were huge and labyrinthine, and Lily was soon following the compass through areas she'd never seen before. The glowing hair led her through a series of ever-narrowing corridors, and the air grew strangely damp. After ten minutes of wandering, she was feeling increasingly lost, and a voice in the back of Lily's mind wondered if she'd be able to find her way out of the dungeons.

Suddenly, the hair spun sharply to the left. Lily followed its lead and stepped into a dark corridor with a low ceiling. The air was heavy with moisture, and dark green moss crept up the stone walls. Carved snakes curled around the braziers on the walls, and as Lily entered the corridor, the brazier flared brightly. The flickering firelight revealed a series of statues lining the corridor, all carved from white marble, and at the end of the corridor hung a large painting.

Lily slowed her pace, observing the statues as she walked past. They had been carved to depict the same man, although each statue held a different pose. Some wore long robes, as if the man had been a mage or a scholar, while others donned armour and posed with weapons. The painting at the end of the hall was a portrait of the man, who had long, straight blonde hair, unnervingly pale skin, and a sour face. Lily thought his expression made him look a bit like Severus. This man could do with a bit of sunlight, as well.

As she examined one of the statues, her hand began to burn, and she looked down. The hair lay lifeless in her palm, its glow faded. Lily frowned. She hadn't expected the spell to last for such a short amount of time. Unless…

An unpleasant thought twisted Lily's stomach. She had supposed the spell would lead her to Sally Dearborn, but she was clearly not here. Perhaps… could Sally have died here? Was that why the compass had led her halfway down the corridor and no further?

No. Lily shook her head. She refused to believe it. This corridor was so strange, so deliberately tucked away… maybe there was a hidden passageway behind the painting, or under one of the statues.

She glanced at the painting, which was watching her with that pinched expression it had. Maybe she could get some information out of it. As she approached the painting, she noticed the golden plaque affixed beneath its frame. Portrait of a Young Salazar, read the plaque, and Lily's heart sank. What were the odds that a young Salazar Slytherin would help her find a missing half-blood student?

"Excuse me," she said as politely as she could.

The portrait, which had been alternating between sneering at her and working on what appeared to be a star chart, narrowed its eyes.

"Yes?"

Lily gulped. There was more good breeding in that single word than she had in her entire body. "It's just — er. You haven't seen a Gryffindor girl wandering around here, have you? Shorter than me, plaited blonde hair, kind of intimidating-looking?"

The young Salazar looked down his nose at her. "I cannot say that I have."

Too late, Lily remembered that Gryffindor was probably a sore subject with this painting. She decided to try a different approach. "What about Slytherin students, how often do they come round this corridor?"

Salazar's eyes seemed to pierce right through her. He lifted his chin imperiously. "I must say, I do not recognize your features. Red hair, but too dark to be a Weasley, and no freckles… Descendant of the Abbotts, are you?"

"Erm," said Lily, "Yes, absolutely, I'm an Abbott. I'm Lily… Abbott. It's a pleasure." She considered curtsying but decided against it.

The young Salazar's eyes narrowed. "The pleasure is all mine," he drawled, sounding anything but pleased.

Lily's heart sank. This is a lost cause, she thought. Even if there was some sort of secret to this corridor, there was no way the painting would reveal anything to her now. "Thanks, anyway. I'll just be off, then… "

Young Salazar wasn't listening, having already gone back to his star chart, and Lily trailed off. Maybe she could come back another time when the painting was in a better mood. She sighed and glanced at the hair, which she was still holding like a compass. Some breakthrough this had been. And now she was lost in the dungeons.

"Lily?" said a voice.

She startled, shoving the hair into her pocket. For the love of —

"Hi, Regulus," she said, trying to sound casual, as if she wandered around alone in the dungeons all the time.

He was standing in the middle of the corridor, wearing a heavy wool cape and carrying a bulging bag from Honeydukes in one hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Patrols," said Lily immediately.

Regulus arched a single eyebrow. "In the dungeons?"

"Yeah."

"Let me rephrase that," said Regulus. "In this part of the dungeons?"

Lily winced. "I got lost." Technically true.

"Clearly," said Regulus. "Why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"

Lily raised her chin. "I could ask you the same question."

Regulus' eyebrow raised even further — something she hadn't thought possible — and he gestured at the Honeydukes bag. "I've already been."

"Ah," said Lily. "Right."

Regulus tucked the Honeydukes bag under his arm. "Fancy a guide out of here?"

"Please," said Lily, smiling a bit.

Regulus didn't return her smile as he fell into step beside her. "You shouldn't have come down here alone. To Salazar's Corridor? What were you thinking?"

"Salazar's Corridor? It's got a name, then?"

"Obviously," said Regulus. "A name and about a hundred curses on every statue in it. You're lucky you still have both legs if you were antagonizing that portrait —"

"I wasn't antagonizing the portrait. And I can take care of myself."

"No," said Regulus. "You can't."

"I can, actually," she snapped.

He glanced at her. His expression was far too weary for someone carrying a bag of sweets from Honeydukes. "Be sensible, Lily. You know there are sympathizers of the Dark Lord in Slytherin, and the dungeons are crawling with curses and traps. You — that is, with your heritage — it's dangerous to come traipsing around here. You could be seriously hurt."

Lily lifted her chin defiantly. "There might be some bad apples in Slytherin, but I'm not about to go walking around the castle afraid. We've got Dumbledore, and McGonagall — I mean, we're at Hogwarts, aren't we? We're safe."

Regulus shook his head. "You're wrong. We're not."

"Just because Sally —"

"This isn't about Sally," said Regulus sharply. "Wherever she is, she's safer than you are now. I guarantee it. "

"Why do you say that? What do you mean, she's —"

"Forget Sally," said Regulus harshly. "She's irrelevant. I'm trying to tell you —"

"Irrelevant? I don't believe you. You —"

"The Death Eaters are planning something, alright?" snapped Regulus.

Lily fell silent, her eyes wide. "What?"

Regulus was staring at her intently, breathing hard. "It's a — a rumour going around my House. They're planning something to do with Hogwarts. Something bad."

Lily felt like she had been slapped. "Is that what you meant before, at Sirius' birthday? When you said you'd had a letter from your cousin?"

Regulus nodded. "I didn't know the details then. But there's been hints — rumours — whatever they're planning, it's big."

"That's impossible. The Death Eaters can't get into Hogwarts."

"They can," said Regulus. "I don't know how, but if Bella says they can, then it's possible."

"But there's barely two weeks left until the Christmas holidays. Surely if they were going to do something, they'd have already done it."

"Come on, Lily," said Regulus. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know," said Lily. She kept her gaze on the stone walls surrounding them, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Have you told anyone?"

Regulus snorted. "Like who? Slughorn?"

"Like Dumbledore!"

Regulus actually laughed at that, the sound cold and mirthless. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're joking."

"I'm not," said Lily. "You have to tell him. He could put a stop to it —"

"Do you know what the people in my House would do to me if they found out I went running to Dumbledore?"

"Nothing would happen to you," said Lily. "Dumbledore would protect you."

"Like he protected Sally Dearborn?"

"That… " said Lily. "That was — he would…"

Regulus' grey eyes were hard as flint. "You and I both know that Sally was attacked long before she disappeared." He pressed a hand to his stomach involuntarily. "Dumbledore had two months to prevent that from happening again. And did he?"

God. She hated that he had a point. "I don't know," said Lily. "I suppose — I'm sure there are things behind the scenes we're not privy to…"

"There wasn't even a notice in the paper," said Regulus scathingly. "No mention that a student had gone missing from the safest bastion in magical Britain. Who do you think had a hand in suppressing that information?"

"I don't know —"

"There's a lot you don't know," said Regulus. "Listen. I'm a Black. My childhood education was different from yours. I learned about the major players in the wizarding world. Dumbledore — he's not one to get bogged down in the details. He only cares about the big picture. What's the death of one student to him, so long as the Muggle-born Protection Act gets passed?"

"You're wrong about Dumbledore," said Lily, but she was uncertain. It was true that no news of Sally's disappearance had ever reached the Daily Prophet. She'd never given it much thought.

"I'm not," said Regulus. "That's just the way he thinks. Read any book on his involvement in the Great Wizarding War and you'll see. What's one life lost, if a hundred more are saved? He'd sacrifice me — or you, or Sally — without a second thought if it meant advancing his agenda. I have nothing to gain from going to him. Nothing."

Lily bit her lip. "I've never heard anybody talk about Dumbledore like that."

"That's because you're not in Slytherin," said Regulus. "We're rather more objective than you Gryffindors." He smirked at her sceptical expression. "Ask my brother what Dumbledore's like if you don't believe me. He'll tell you the same."

"Fine," said Lily, crossing her arms. "I will."

A corner of Regulus' lip turned upwards. "Good. Let me know what he says." They rounded the corner to the corridor which led to the Entrance Hall. "I trust you can find your way back from here?"

"Yeah," said Lily. "Thanks." She turned to say good-bye, but Regulus was already walking away from her, one hand raised in farewell.