A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! September was insanely busy, glad that's over now :) Thanks for sticking with!

Small content warning on this chapter for mentions of suicide.

Sirius stormed into Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop and slammed the door hard behind him. Several curious heads turned his way, but he ignored all of them. He went straight to the back of the shop, where James and Parvana were sitting on a chintz sofa and flipping through a book.

James glanced up, surprised. "Padfoot? What're you —"

"Where's the map?" demanded Sirius.

"I thought you were meeting your uncle."

"I did. The map, Prongs."

"What do you want with the —"

"I'm going to work on it," said Sirius. "Is that so hard to believe?"

James scrunched up his face as if Sirius was a particularly difficult Transfiguration problem he was trying to puzzle out. Parvana looked back and forth between James and Sirius, her eyes wide. Sirius glowered at her.

"Yeah, alright," said James at last. He began to rummage in his bag. "Try not to eat this one, will you?"

"Clever," said Sirius flatly. As he took the map, he noticed the book James and Parvana had been perusing. Its pages were full of large, glossy photographs of a Quidditch team wearing grey and white robes. "Are you two… reading a book together?"

"Not just any book," said James proudly, and Parvana nodded in agreement. "You're looking at Flying with the Falcons, first edition. It's even got a signature from legendary Beater Karl Broadmoore, look…"

He started flipping towards the front of the book, but Sirius paid no attention. "Shouldn't you two be, I dunno, snogging?" He gestured towards the other couples in the shop, all of whom were rather more physically entwined than James and Parvana.

James and Parvana looked at each other. Parvana shrugged. "It's just… the Falmouth Falcons are really interesting. Did you know they have the highest Bludger hit ratio in the whole league?"

"Scintillating," said Sirius dryly, and Parvana bit her lip. "I'll leave you to it, then." As he strode out of the shop, he called loudly over his shoulder, "Try not to get too hot and bothered by Karl Broadmoore's broomstick, if you know what I mean."

James frowned at Sirius and put an arm around Parvana, who looked like she wanted to disappear. Sirius snorted and broke into a run, sprinting up the winding path that led to Hogwarts. It wasn't his fault Quidditch got them off.

Back at Hogwarts, Sirius took the steps to Gryffindor Tower two at a time. Instead of entering the common room, he continued upwards, eventually climbing the ladder to the belfry. He picked his way across the belfry scaffolding and settled down with his back against the Bell of Merlin, opening the map in his lap. Nearly two-thirds of Hogwarts was depicted on the map, although large swathes of the parchment were empty: several areas of the castle stubbornly refused to be charted. In the corner of the map, infuriatingly motionless, sat the dot labelled Peter Pettigrew.

Sirius stuck his wand between his teeth, pulled out a quill, and got to work. Hours later, someone crouched beside him, and Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Sorry, sorry," said Remus, holding up his hands apologetically.

"Jesus, Moony. A little warning would've been nice."

Remus' mouth twisted wryly as he sat cross-legged beside Sirius. "You sound ridiculous when you use Muggle swears."

"You sound ridiculous all the time."

"In a mood, are we?"

Sirius jabbed his wand at the parchment in front of him. "Leave me alone. I want to suffer in peace."

"In a mood and suffering," said Remus. "Drinks with Uncle Alphard went well then, I take it."

"Sod off."

"I'll pass, thanks," said Remus. Sirius glared, half-tempted to hex him, but Remus appeared not to notice; he leaned over the map, humming thoughtfully. "You've added Flitwick's office, good show; it kept erasing itself when I tried. And —" His eyes widened. "The Homonculus Charm — you…"

Sirius grunted, still watching the map. A single, moving dot labelled Regulus Black was crossing the Entrance Hall, heading towards the corridor that led to the kitchens.

Remus' voice was soft. "Pads."

"It doesn't matter," said Sirius, "because the dungeons are completely Unplottable, and that's where he spends all his time. I shouldn't have bothered." He jabbed a finger at the paper. "I can watch Reg get himself a snack, but that's it. Useless. Waste of my time."

Remus didn't respond. He'd always been good at tactful pauses; Sirius hated that about him.

"I thought —" began Sirius, if only because he wanted to fill the silence. "I wanted to… If I could keep an eye on him…"

Remus sighed deeply. "Did Uncle Alphard say something to make you feel this way?"

"No," said Sirius immediately.

Remus merely raised his eyebrows. Damn him and his tactful pauses.

"He didn't say anything that wasn't true, at least," amended Sirius. "He pointed out that if I don't go back to Grimmauld Place, Regulus would become the heir. He'd have access to all those heaps of Galleons sitting in the family vault."

"Erm," said Remus, "no offence, but surely you knew that before Uncle Alphard told you?"

"Obviously," said Sirius. "Though it turns out I didn't quite consider all the implications."

"Such as?"

"Where do you think Regulus will funnel that money?"

Recognition dawned across Remus' face. "Ah."

Sirius smiled humorlessly. "I was an idiot for not realizing sooner. There's only one reason Mulciber and his cronies are interested in Regulus, and that's for his money. There's only one reason my parents were invited to all those summer conferences. Uncle Alphard reckons I should go grovelling back to Grimmauld Place, if only to keep our fortune from falling into the hands of the Death Eaters."

"I see," said Remus. On the map, the dot labelled Regulus Black left the kitchens and vanished into the blank expanse of parchment where the dungeons should have been. "What are you going to do, then?"

"What am I going to do? Nothing. I left Grimmauld Place, so it's not my problem anymore. I don't care where our money goes. "

"Sure you don't," said Remus. "You're just up here brooding for fun, then."

Sirius wasn't in the mood to be teased. "Well, I was having fun before you arrived," he said nastily. "If you're just going to be cute about everything, you can piss off."

Hurling insults at Remus made him feel better and worse at the same time. Then Remus winced, looking genuinely hurt, and Sirius instantly regretted having said anything.

"Shit, Moony," said Sirius. "I didn't mean —"

"That was over the line."

"I know it was. I shouldn't have — I'm sorry."

Remus' smile only deepened the bags under his eyes. "Forgiven."

Sirius rolled up the map and stuffed it roughly into his bag. "I told Uncle Alphard where he could shove it. I'm not going back to Grimmauld Place. I don't care if my parents turn my bedroom into a guest room to let the Dark Lord summer in London. It's not my problem."

"Can you live with the consequences of that?"

Sirius smacked the Bell of Merlin with his fist. A deep, vibrating peal resonated through the belfry. "It is NOT my responsibility to save the Blacks from themselves. My parents are a bunch of soulless lunatics. If they want to prop up a Dark wizard, that's on THEIR conscience. Not mine. Understood?" He glared at Remus, who looked annoyingly unperturbed by this outburst.

"Alright," said Remus. He stood up and brushed the dust off his trousers.

"Alright?"

"Yeah," said Remus. He extended a hand towards Sirius. "Come on. It's dinner time."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to lecture me on Doing the Right Thing? You don't even have that disappointed look you get, and I know you're disappointed. You'd rather me be selfless. To put the cause first."

"It's funny," said Remus, as Sirius took his hand and pulled himself up. "Because you're the one saying those things, not me."

"But you're thinking them. I know you, Moony."

Remus put a hand on Sirius' shoulder for balance as they picked their way across the wooden beams of the belfry. "The only thing I'm thinking is that you always do the right thing in the end." The bags under his eyes wrinkled as he smiled at Sirius. "You'll do the right thing by your family, too."

It was completely untrue that Sirius always did the right thing, and he had a hundred counterexamples that he wanted the throw into Remus' face. But Remus was still smiling at him — such a gentle smile, in such a tired face — so Sirius merely huffed, and let Remus lead the way down the tower.

A winter storm rolled in during the first days of December, blanketing the grounds of Hogwarts in snow and ice. The chill seeped into the corridors, and even the flagstones in the Entrance Hall were cold to the touch. Lily took to wearing a jumper under her robes — how wizards kept warm in the winter with their ridiculous attire, she'd never know.

The cold made the castle feel austere and uninviting. Its stone walls were indifferent to the draft blowing in. If the castle can't keep out the weather, thought Lily, how can it keep out the Death Eaters?

She tried to banish the thought by refocusing her attention on Hide and Weep: Seeking Those Who Wish Not to Be Found. She'd taken it from the Restricted Section and was perusing its pages at a table near the back of the library, away from Madam Pince's prying eyes.

The book contained many ways to find a person in hiding, but unfortunately nearly all of them involved the use of magic so Dark that Lily was certain she'd be expelled for even suggesting it to Professor McGonagall. As she skimmed a chapter on necromancy, her mind wandered back to her conversation with Regulus. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about what he had said, even when she was supposed to be focusing on other things — like her prefect duties, her apprenticeship in the hospital wing, or her never-ending pile of homework assignments. Or finding Sally Dearborn, she thought guiltily.

But... was it really possible that the Death Eaters could enter Hogwarts? And who else was aware of their plans? If only she and Regulus knew… should she report what he had said to a professor, or keep quiet for his sake? He'd said his House would do bad things to him if word got out that he had blabbed about the Death Eaters' plans. But at the same time... if she knew about the attack beforehand and had the chance to stop it, yet chose not to… students would die, and it would be her fault. Lily wasn't sure she could live with the guilt.

There was a rattle at the window next to her table in the Restricted Section, startling Lily out of her thoughts. A school owl was scratching at the frosted windowpane. Its tawny feathers were ruffled with snow and ice, and there was a damp roll of parchment in its beak. Lily unlatched the window as quietly as she could — Madam Pince had the hearing of a bat — and brought the owl inside so it could defrost a bit. As it warmed itself on the windowsill, she took the roll of parchment from the owl and opened it.

Lily,

Kindly stop by the hospital wing at your earliest convenience to discuss your options for apprenticeship over the Christmas holidays. An opportunity has come up that I believe you will be interested in.

— Poppy Pomfrey, R.M.W., B.C.H.

Lily's heart sank. She enjoyed her work in the hospital wing, but she had been hoping to actually relax over the Christmas holidays. Did Madam Pomfrey expect her to stay at Hogwarts instead of going home to see her family?

"This is a good opportunity," she said out loud, trying to muster up a bit of enthusiasm. The owl looked at her oddly. "Healing is a competitive profession," she told the owl. Even more so for me, she thought. With her blood status — or lack thereof — she needed all the extra opportunities she could get.

She scribbled a reply to Madam Pomfrey — 'Yes, I'd love to, can't wait to hear more' — and sent it off with the owl before reopening Hide and Weep. She spent nearly five minutes reading the same paragraph over and over and decided at last that it was a lost cause. She stuffed the tome into her bag, figuring she'd give it another go before bed. Hopefully the subject matter wouldn't give her nightmares.

"You're not taking Advanced Dark Arts," said Madam Pince when Lily tried to check out. "This book is for N.E.W.T.-level Dark Arts students."

"Nobody takes Advanced Dark Arts anymore," said Lily. "That subject was discontinued in the forties. And I have a permission slip, ma'am."

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes. "What if there are students who are studying the Dark Arts independently? What am I to tell them when they come looking for additional study materials?"

Good God. "I'll bring it back tomorrow morning," said Lily.

"And what of the students who must study tonight?"

"Then I'd hope you would report them to Dumbledore, seeing as no student should be studying the Dark Arts independently at Hogwarts," retorted Lily.

Madam Pince blinked. Then she nodded and made a note in her ledger. "That's the spirit."

"Er," said Lily, "what?"

Madam Pince pushed Hide and Weep towards Lily. "I had to check. A book like this is dangerous in the wrong hands, see. But your little outburst sets my mind at ease." She paused, looking at the ledger. "Well, well. It's no wonder. You would never dabble in the Dark Arts anyway, would you? Not with a surname like Evans..."

"It's Abbott, actually," snapped Lily. She snatched the book from a very confused Madam Pince and shoved it into her bag. "You'll want to change that in the ledger, I expect."

Lily left the library fuming.

When she entered the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was flipping through a copy of the Daily Prophet at the triage desk, a half-drunk cup of tea in one hand.

Lily took the seat beside her. "You wanted to see me?" she asked, hoping her voice sound neutral and unaffected.

Madam Pomfrey shot her a keen look. "Bad day?"

Lily crossed her arms. "Muggle-born problems."

Madam Pomfrey drew her wand, and a second mug appeared in front of Lily, full of steaming hot tea. "Want to talk about it?"

Lily curled her hands around the mug and shrugged. "You magical folk can be so… so..."

"Prejudiced?"

"Ignorant, more like," said Lily. She took a sip of tea, appreciating the way it warmed her insides.

"Ah," said Madam Pomfrey. "Yes. That doesn't surprise me."

"Pince thinks Muggle-borns wouldn't dabble in the Dark Arts," said Lily sullenly. "She said I would never. Because of my surname. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"Absolutely," said Madam Pomfrey. "I have treated enough victims of Dark magic in this infirmary to know that pure-blooded wizards are not the only ones who dabble in the Dark Arts. If Irma Pince thinks otherwise, then she is a fool."

"Exactly!" said Lily. "I mean, it's true I don't use Dark magic. But that's because I don't want to. Not because of my blood. I had a friend…" She swallowed. It had been a while since she'd talked about Severus. "He's got a Muggle surname too, but he's dabbled in the Dark Arts for as long as I've known him. And we grew up in the same Muggle town. It just goes to show, doesn't it?"

"That it does," said Madam Pomfrey. "Try not to judge Irma too harshly, will you? I expect she was trying to give you a compliment."

"Some compliment," said Lily. "Next time she ought to say my hair looks nice and be done with it."

Madam Pomfrey laughed, and Lily smiled in spite of herself, feeling somewhat gratified. She glanced at the copy of the Daily Prophet which lay on the table. "Anything good in the news?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head briskly. "I expect you already know the answer to that question." She tapped her wand against the paper, which rolled itself up and zoomed inside one of the drawers of the triage desk. "Now. I assume you're here to talk about your apprenticeship?" She rifled in the drawer of the triage desk, eventually pulling out a letter written on lime green parchment. "I've been in contact with Benjamin Fenwick — he's the Healer-in-Charge of the Artifact Accidents ward at St Mungo's. He has agreed to let you work as his apprentice over the Christmas holidays, if that's something you're interested in."

Lily's heart skipped a beat. An apprenticeship at St Mungo's! It was objectively the best wizarding hospital in Britain. All the weird cases got treated there. What kinds of things would she see on the Artefact Accidents ward? Lots of injuries from broomstick collisions and backfiring wands, no doubt. Maybe even the occasional exploded cauldron.

"I'm definitely interested," said Lily. "One question, though — will the apprenticeship involve scrubbing bedpans?"

Madam Pomfrey's lips twitched. "Half of being a Healer is scrubbing bedpans. St Mungo's is no exception."

Lily wrinkled her nose. "At least the Bubble-Head Charm helps with the smell."

"That spell wasn't around when I was an apprentice," said Madam Pomfrey ruefully. "You kids don't know how lucky you have it."

"Come off it," said Lily. "You're how old, twenty-nine?"

Madam Pomfrey shot her a look, half-smiling. "You flatter me."

Lily smiled brightly back at her. "You'll write to Healer Fenward, then, and tell him I accept?"

"Healer Fenwick," corrected Madam Pomfrey. "And I shall. I expect he'll want you on the ward three days a week, plus one overnight shift. I hope you don't find sleep deprivation a problem."

Lily unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. "I got five hours last night, and I'm doing great."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and pulled out a bottle of ink. "Off you go, then, unless you want me to put you to work. I think there are a few bedpans I haven't gotten around to cleaning yet…"

Sirius Black didn't feel guilty about what he had said to Uncle Alphard.

Sure, he found his mind wandering back to their conversation with a frequency that was somewhat alarming, and his stomach went all queasy whenever he spotted Regulus at mealtimes, but that didn't mean he felt guilty. He was of age, after all. He didn't have to go back to Grimmauld Place. If his parents donated the majority of their considerable wealth to the Dark Lord, what did it matter to Sirius? Legally, he was allowed to do as he pleased.

Sirius just wasn't sure why doing as he pleased made him feel so miserable.

The weather finally improved the last week before the Christmas holidays; although slate-grey clouds still covered the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, no flakes of snow fell upon Sirius' breakfast.

Sirius took a bite of toast and made a face. "Eurgh."

Remus folded that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. "Is something the matter?"

"The toast is off again," muttered Sirius. He cast a suspicious glance at the ceiling. "I thought the snow was making it taste funny. But it isn't snowing today."

"Well," said Peter, "Remus did mention that our feelings can —"

"Finish that sentence and I'll show you feelings," snarled Sirius. Peter made a rude gesture at him, unconcerned, and Sirius frowned. Threats of violence usually worked on Peter. He must be losing his touch.

Regulus chose that moment to enter the Great Hall, and the toast Sirius was chewing seemed to dry in his mouth. Uncle Alphard's words — 'future Death Eater' — echoed traitorously through his mind.

It's not my problem, thought Sirius, averting his gaze. He took another sullen bite of toast and swallowed delicately.

"That's it," said Peter encouragingly. "One bite at a time."

"Oh, sod off," said Sirius. "Where's James? Did he eat already?"

"He's training with Parvana," replied Remus.

Sirius groaned. "Again?"

Remus gave him an odd look. "They train together every Tuesday and Thursday morning, they've both got a free period then. Haven't you noticed?"

"Oh, of course," said Sirius. "Let me just pull out James Potter's timetable, since I've got memorized…" He pretended to unroll an imaginary sheet of parchment. "Right, looks like Prongs has got physical training with Parvana at nine, ignoring his best mates at ten… he'll meet with Parvana again at eleven to give her a single chaste peck on the cheek… Ooh, looks like he actually speaks to his so-called best mates at lunch, but that's only because he wants to copy my homework. Did I get all that right, Moony?"

"A flawless recital," said Remus with a smile. "Though it's my homework, not yours, that he'll ask to copy during lunch, I'm afraid. He thinks your Defence essays can be a bit scattered."

Peter snorted. "Prongs does spend quite a lot of time with Parvana, though, doesn't he?"

"That's to be expected, seeing as they're dating," said Remus.

"Dating sounds dull," said Peter. "I mean, Parv's nice and all, but she's a girl. What do they even talk about, anyway?"

"Quidditch," said Sirius and another voice simultaneously. He looked around, surprised; Lily Evans was standing behind them.

"Couldn't help but overhear," she said somewhat sheepishly. "They do talk quite a lot about Quidditch though, don't they?"

"That's an understatement," said Sirius. "Bit of a bore, isn't it?"

Lily nodded, looking relieved. The back of Sirius' neck prickled, and he glanced across the Hall; Regulus was watching them from the Slytherin table. Future Death Eater, thought Sirius, and the breakfast in his stomach threatened to come back up.

"Well," said Lily awkwardly when Sirius didn't continue their conversation, "I've got to swing by the Owlery, so I'll see you lot in Charms —"

Sirius jumped out of his seat. "The Owlery? I'll come too, I've got — erm… business there." Maybe with some space from Regulus, he would stop thinking so much.

Peter groaned. "Not you, too. If you're abandoning us for a girl..."

Sirius lowered his voice so that Lily wouldn't overhear. "Don't be an idiot. I'm going to work on the map, Pete."

Peter looked sceptical, but he didn't argue the point, and Sirius relaxed a bit. At least he'd told a believable lie.

When Sirius and Lily reached the Owlery, he didn't pull out the map; instead, he leaned against one of the windows, arms folded, and looked out across the grounds of Hogwarts. Watching the other students scurry about like ants was strangely calming. It helped his thoughts slow down.

"Black?" Lily was giving him a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

Sirius turned his gaze back towards the window. "Fine. Trying not to overthink things."

Lily joined him at the window. "Such as?"

He glanced at her. "You're nosey, you know that, Evans?"

Lily smiled brightly, unabashed. "Quite. I give good advice, too, you know."

"I'm sure you do," said Sirius. From this height, he could see smoke rising from the chimneys in Hogsmeade. "I have family problems. That's all."

"Your brother?"

In a flash, he had pushed himself off the wall and was staring at her, taught as the string of a bow. "What do you care about my brother? A friend of his, are you?"

She lifted her chin a little. "Of a sort."

Sirius snorted. "Looked like more than that to me at the theme park."

"Well, it's not," said Lily, though there was a blush creeping up her neck. "I know better than to get involved with his lot."

Liar, thought Sirius. He grinned lopsidedly. "No, you don't. First Snivellus, now Reg… You've got a soft spot for Slytherin bad boys, do you?"

He expected her to get angry, but Lily just laughed. The sound was as clear as the peal of a bell. "Did you actually refer to your brother as a 'bad boy'?"

"Merlin's arse." Sirius smiled ruefully. "I did, didn't I?"

"Regulus is a lot of things," said Lily. "But he isn't bad."

"He's a hopeless case, more like."

Now she was angry, but it was more playful than anything. "Don't say that! He's your brother!"

"That's exactly why I'm allowed to say it," said Sirius. "Anyway. I came up here specifically to not think about my family, and you're ruining that for me, so send off your little package and leave me alone."

Lily shrugged and called down one of the school owls. "It's your funeral," she said, tying the package to the owl's leg. "Like I said, though. I give good advice."

Sirius paused. Maybe he should take her up on the offer. Just this once. "Do you know what guilt feels like?"

Lily blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"You know. Guilt. What's it like?"

"Erm," said Lily, "well, it's not a very nice emotion, for one."

"Not nice how? Like anger, or sadness, or…?"

"Not quite like those," said Lily. She chewed on her lip as she thought. "Guilt's a bit like being embarrassed, I suppose. It can make you feel a bit ill. Or you wonder if you ought to do something differently… Maybe you doubt you're making the right choice…" She flushed, though he couldn't imagine why.

"Huh," said Sirius. "Alright. Thanks." He touched his forehead to the windowpane. The glass felt cool against his skin.

Lily was still watching him. "What do you feel guilty about?"

"Who said I feel guilty?"

Lily smirked. "It's obvious. No offence."

"Oh, sure it's obvious," said Sirius sarcastically. "At least for Lily Evans, Muggle-born prefect and all-around wondergirl."

"Wondergirl who has excellent emotional insight," corrected Lily. "Oh, stop pouting. You know I'm right."

"I'll stop pouting if you stop smirking."

Lily tried unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. "Done. My turn to ask a question."

Sirius groaned. How did James ever fancy this girl? She was exhausting. "I didn't know we were taking turns."

"Of course we are! My pearls of wisdom aren't free, you know."

Sirius knew it was a losing battle. "Go on, then, Wondergirl. Ask away."

"Alright," said Lily. She took a deep breath. "Is Dumbledore a manipulative old coot who would sacrifice the lives of Hogwarts students to advance his agenda?"

Sirius wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. "Where in Merlin's name did that come from? Have you been reading the Quibbler?"

Lily's cheeks went scarlet. "It's something I heard from… someone. A pure-blood. He said all the old families think Dumbledore's some sort of evil mastermind. I wanted to know if that's true."

Sirius shook his head to clear it. "I think you have been spending too much time with the Slytherins. Dumbledore's not — look, someone as brilliant as him, he probably does make tough calls sometimes. But he isn't evil."

Lily didn't look convinced. "Do you think he cares about students, though? Actually cares? If someone went to him about a sensitive matter..."

Sirius thought about Remus, and Severus Snape, and a secret he had let slip last spring. "He does care. Trust me."

"Trust you? I want to know, I want facts —"

"Damnit, Evans," exclaimed Sirius, banging a fist against the windowpane. "You want all the sordid details? Fine. I crossed a line last year — I know, surprise, surprise — and I should have been expelled. But I wasn't. And you know why? Because Dumbledore knew that if I was expelled, I wouldn't live to see my seventeenth birthday."

The flush had disappeared from Lily's cheeks; she looked horrified. "Because of your parents? Would they really…?"

Sirius laughed harshly. "My parents wouldn't have the nerve to off me. No, I'd have done it to myself. Maybe I'd have run away first, try surviving on my own, only to give up or get hooked on potions in Knockturn Alley. Or maybe I'd have stayed home and done it in my room, alone, to teach my parents a lesson. Either way, Dumbledore thought it nearly certain that I'd try taking my own life. He laid it all out very plainly. He's seen it before, you see."

Lily's voice was soft. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"That's why Dumbledore's the Headmaster, and not you." Sirius took a savage pleasure in the insult. "He's not some dodgy old fool playing chess with our futures. He let me stay at Hogwarts because he cares. He valued my life when nobody else did — not even me." He checked his watch, the Elgin that the Potters had bought him. "I'd better be getting on. Peter gets anxious if he's left alone with Remus for too long."

He'd hopped on the cold stone bannister of the staircase, ready to slide down, when he heard Lily's voice behind him. "Sirius."

He stilled. She'd never used his first name before. "Yeah?"

She gave him an affectionate smile. "Thanks for answering my question. I hope you stop feeling guilty soon."

As if on cue, Sirius' stomach twisted uncomfortably. I do feel guilty, he thought. Maybe telling Uncle Alphard 'no' had been the wrong choice. But what was he going to do about it?

"I hope so, too, Wondergirl," he said. "Good luck telling Dumbledore about your sensitive matter." He raised a hand in farewell and slid down the bannister towards the landing far below.

After speaking with Sirius, Lily still wasn't sure if telling a teacher about the potential Death Eater attack was the right thing to do. She agreed with Sirius, of course; one needed only to flip through a history book to find a multitude of examples that proved Dumbledore had dedicated his life to helping others. And he'd done it because he cared. She had no doubt that Dumbledore could protect Hogwarts from an attack. But could he protect Regulus from the other Slytherins?

In the end, Lily decided to compromise. The professors needed to know about the rumour of an attack on Hogwarts, but she wouldn't go directly to Dumbledore. Instead, she'd speak with Professor McGonagall first.

On the last day of lessons before the Christmas holidays, Lily stayed behind after their Transfiguration lesson had ended, ostensibly because she had spilt ink all over her desk.

"Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Lily looked up. She had spent the past five minutes attempting to mop up the ink using a spare roll of parchment while the rest of the class filed out of the room. "Yes, Professor?"

"You are a witch, are you not?"

"Oh, yeah," said Lily. She feigned embarrassment as she pulled out her wand. "Evanesco." At once, the ink vanished.

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched. "That's better. Now, is there a reason why you have not rushed out of class like the rest of your cohort?"

Damn. Professor McGonagall was definitely onto her. Lily supposed her ruse had been rather obvious. She kept her eyes on her wand, mentally rehearsing what she had planned to say. "Right. Well. It's just…" She took a breath. "I heard a rumour, Professor."

Professor McGonagall pushed her glasses up the narrow bridge of her nose. "A rumour, at Hogwarts? Well, I never. Is it interesting, this rumour?"

Lily smiled in spite of herself. "Well, it's not quite as good as the most recent one about Bertrand Aubrey. Did you know people are saying he's got fingers where his toes should be? Switching Spell gone wrong, I guess."

Professor McGonagall tutted. "That one's true, I'm afraid. Foolish boy; he waited too long to see Madam Pomfrey. She managed to shrink them down to a proper size for toes, but they remain distinctly finger-shaped."

She spoke with utter seriousness, but Lily had to stifle a laugh.

"Did I say something funny, Miss Evans?"

"Er, no, Professor," said Lily, biting back a smile. "I'm sorry to hear that about Bertram."

"I was, too," said Professor McGonagall briskly. "Now, I'd like to hear why you have chosen to stay behind after class instead of packing for the Christmas holidays. What is the rumour you have heard?"

"Ah," said Lily. "Right. It's just, well —" Don't be melodramatic, she told herself. Just state the facts. "A friend of mine told me that Death Eaters are planning to attack Hogwarts." She rushed to say everything before Professor McGonagall could cut in. "I don't know if it's true or not, but I thought a teacher should know, and he wasn't going to tell anybody, so…"

"So you decided to take initiative," said Professor McGonagall. Lily nodded. "Well. Thank you for informing me." Professor McGonagall turned to the blackboard and erased what was written there with a wave of her wand. She looked quite unperturbed.

Lily hesitated. "Er… Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I must say, I'm a bit disappointed that it isn't further news about the state of Bertram Aubrey's feet, but, as far as rumours go, it's not bad."

"So you're not worried?"

Professor McGonagall turned to face Lily. The expression on her face was surprisingly kind, almost indulgent. "Miss Evans. The Headmaster and I have been aware for some time that an attack on Hogwarts is a high priority for the Death Eaters. A castle full of children is an ideal target for those" —her mouth twisted— "despicable criminals. As such, we have taken extensive precautions to ensure the safety of Hogwarts and each student in it."

Lily felt quite foolish all of a sudden. Of course it wouldn't be news to Professor McGonagall that Hogwarts was a target. "Oh. That makes sense."

"All the same, I appreciate the concern," said Professor McGonagall as she gathered a stack of parchment into her arms. "That reminds me, Miss Evans — how goes the search for Sally Dearborn?"

Lily grimaced. She'd been so preoccupied with lessons and her apprenticeship that she hadn't even had time to read Hide and Weep. "Oh, er, fine. I found this tracking spell that seemed useful, but it ended up being a waste of time." She might have been imagining it, but she thought Professor McGonagall looked disappointed.

"Our efforts have been similarly unfruitful." Professor McGonagall's voice was clipped. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Evans…"

"Oh, right," said Lily. "Well, thanks for listening, Professor." She smiled mischievously. "I'll let you know if I hear anything new about Bertram Aubrey."

The Hogwarts Express was slated to leave Hogsmeade Station at noon the following day, but Lily spent the morning procrastinating on packing anyway. Instead, she listened to a serial on the radio with Mary, Marlene and Parvana, who still had a hard time meeting Lily's eyes. Afterwards, with barely half an hour to spare, Lily stuffed her belongings haphazardly into her trunk and hurried with the others to the Hogwarts Express. They found an empty compartment near the front of the train, but Parvana declined to join them, explaining somewhat sheepishly that James Potter was saving her a seat at the back of the train.

"I've never been so happy to get away from Hogwarts," sighed Lily once they were settled in a compartment. She gazed out the window as the train started into motion, rumbling a bit as it trundled away from the station.

"I can't wait to be home," agreed Mary. She sat cross-legged on her seat and pulled out the latest edition of her favourite Muggle magazine.

Marlene looked back and forth between them, frowning. "Really?"

"Really," said Lily. "I dunno if you've noticed, Marly, but the wizarding world is becoming a bit shit for Muggle-borns. It'll be nice to spend time with normal people and forget about wizarding politics for a while."

"I'm normal!" said Marlene.

Mary turned a page of her magazine. "I love you, Marly, but you're really not."

Marlene shrugged. "Honestly, I know the Daily Prophet's been banging on about this war business, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. They're probably exaggerating the situation. The Prophet's got plenty of precedence for that."

"How do you mean?" asked Mary.

"Well," said Marlene, "there was that famous incident in the early sixties. The Prophet ran an article about a roaming werewolf pack that slaughtered an entire Muggle village. Well, a couple of years later, an independent paper published an expose — it turned out the story about the werewolf pack was completely false."

Mary was frowning. "Why would the Prophet publish something that wasn't true?"

"The paper's in bed with the Ministry," explained Marlene. "Apparently, they were trying to drum up support for the Werewolf Registry that had just been created. I wouldn't be surprised if this whole 'Muggle disappearance' thing is similar, to make sure the public approves of the Muggle-born Protection Act."

Lily glanced at Mary, who looked similarly perplexed. Lily hadn't thought Marlene would ever say something so… ignorant.

"I mean," said Mary hesitantly, "even if the werewolf thing was made up, I don't think what's happening now is."

"Just you wait," said Marlene. "I bet the disappearances start slowing down any day now that the Muggle-born Protection Act has been passed."

"We know someone who disappeared though," said Lily. "Sally Dearborn."

Marlene snorted. "You mean her father pulled her out of school because she was a political target."

"You can't assume that," said Lily. She had to fight to keep her voice steady. "Nobody knows what happened to her."

"What happened to Sally's beside the point, though," said Marlene.

"What's the point, then?" asked Mary. Her voice quavered, but she was gripping her magazine so tightly the pages were starting to wrinkle. "Because if you mean to tell us that the danger we're in is just a figment of some reporter's imagination…"

Marlene glanced at Mary, and her expression softened. "Of course not," she said quickly. "I just meant bad news sells, and the Prophet exaggerates. That's all."

Mary nodded, relaxing, but Lily wasn't so easily pacified. "I hope that's all you meant," she said. She pulled a handful of papers out of her bag and thrust them at Marlene. "Take a look at these."

Marlene's eyes widened. "Are those the pamphlets McGonagall gave you? With the details of the Muggle-born Protection Act? It's supposed to be very hush-hush, isn't it?" Her eyes swept across the papers. "Resettlement… safe houses… Merlin's balls, Obliviation? Are they mental?"

"They're taking the threat seriously, more like," said Lily. "Do you really think the Ministry would go through all this trouble if the disappearances were just some made-up story by the Prophet?"

Marlene forehead creased with worry. "No, I suppose not. Good Lord, they've even got the MACUSA involved…"

Mary eyed the pamphlets apprehensively. "Lily, have you got any idea what your mum's going to think about all this?"

"I haven't the foggiest," said Lily. "I wrote to her about the Muggle-born Protection Act a while ago — before it passed the House of Lords. She sounded open to the idea, but I think she expects magical protection to be something along the lines of a charmed amulet she can wear. Not…"

"…Moving to America and changing her name to, I dunno, Barbra Freedom?" asked Marlene, handing the papers back to Lily.

"Exactly," said Lily. "Plus, even if my mum went along with it, there's no way Tuney would agree to leave England. Not ever."

"I can't imagine my family will want to move, either," said Mary glumly. "I don't think they understand the danger they're in."

"On one hand, that's stupid and short-sighted of your families," said Marlene. "On the other, though… how do you convince someone of a threat they can neither see nor understand?"

"Exactly," said Lily, stretching. "God, this topic is depressing. D'you understand now why we might want a break from the wizarding world for a bit?"

Marlene nodded. "Completely."

The rest of the journey to London passed uneventfully, except for when Lily stumbled upon James and Parvana while patrolling the corridors of the Hogwarts Express. To her relief, they weren't doing stretching exercises. Instead, they sat side-by-side on a storage crate in the last train car of the Hogwarts Express, unaware that Lily had pulled the door open. She backed out quietly, red-faced, when she realized they were exchanging Christmas gifts.

As the train pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Lily and Mary changed into their Muggle clothes, while Marlene left the compartment to find the Gryffindor Quidditch team and bid them happy Christmas.

Lily was tying the laces on her trainers when the train jerked to a sudden stop. "Have we arrived, then?" asked Lily, catching herself.

Mary peered out the window."Must be. Yeah, we're h—" She broke off.

"Is everything alright?" asked Lily, glancing up. Mary's face was as white as chalk. "Mary? What's wrong?"

Mary didn't respond; she stared out the window, terrified.

"Mary?"

Mary's voice was less than a whisper. "It's the Dark Lord. He's here."

Lily's heart began to pound against her ribcage. "No," she said immediately, springing out of her seat. "That's impossible —" Professor McGonagall said we were safe. She said they were prepared.

Lily looked out the window. Platform Nine and Three Quarters was completely empty. No, not completely — a tall figure stood in the middle of the platform.

He was Death itself. His skull was completely hairless, and he had slits for a nose, skin white as bone. White as the wand he was holding. His robes swirled as if even the wind bowed to him, and his eyes —

He looked directly at her.

He had slits for pupils and no irises, just an endless swath of crimson, as if he was bleeding from the eyes, and Lily was going to die, she was going to be sixteen and dead, even though she'd never had a boyfriend, never made up with Tuney, never figured out what happened to Sally Dearborn —

Death laughed.

"Mudbloods of Hogwarts," he said. He did not raise his voice nor magically project it, yet Lily heard him all the same. "Your professors have failed you. Your Ministry has failed you. You think a law will keep you safe?"

He tilted his skeletal face towards the sky and raised his wand. Lily followed his gaze even as she willed herself not to, knowing whatever he was about to do was terrible —

"MORSMORDRE," said Death, and a sickly green jet of light shot into the sky. It formed an enormous, ghastly skull with a serpent for a tongue. The serpent unfurled itself and descended towards the platform, its massive jaw unhinged, ready to swallow the train whole —

"Nothing can protect you from me," said the figure. He flicked his wand, and every door of the train flew open with a bang.

Mary whimpered. Lily wanted to reach out to her, but she felt rooted to the spot. This wasn't happening. He wasn't real.

"It is high time I enter the public sphere," said Death. He took a single step towards the train. He had bones for feet. "Let the Ministry doubt no more. Your corpses will be proof of my existence." He took another step.

"Now," said Death, "wouldn't you like to know my name?"

Lily already knew who he was. He was the Reaper.

"Those who follow me call me the Dark Lord," said Death, "but I do not allow Mudbloods to follow me." He pointed his wand at the middle of the train. There was a flash of emerald green.

Silence.

Followed by screaming.

"Bow to death, Mudbloods," said the Reaper. "You may call me Lord Voldemort."