Remus liked quiet, even craved it at times, but sitting in silence with the Marauders felt wrong. They were in Uncle Alphard's flat — which now belonged to Sirius, apparently — along with Dorcas, Marlene, and Lily, keeping a noiseless vigil. The longer nobody spoke, the more oppressive the silence became, until even Remus was seized by the urge to say something.

"Who wants more Butterbeer?" he asked at last. "Pads, I'll get you another…"

Sirius nodded hollowly, though his current mug was still half-full.

"Were you two very close?" ventured Lily, now that Remus had broken the silence.

Sirius lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. "Not really. I mean — it's complicated." Remus pressed a new mug of Butterbeer into his hands, and Sirius stared at it dully. "I dunno why I'm so cut up about him, honestly. It isn't surprising that he… well."

"It's not?" asked Lily.

Sirius laughed humourlessly. "The House of Black is not blessed with long lives. And the things he was doing — secret missions for the Order, and what have you — it was only a matter of time."

Dorcas lifted her head from Marlene's shoulder. Her eyes were swollen from crying. "This isn't the Order's fault."

"He died carrying out a mission from them, didn't he?" retorted Sirius. There was a familiar bite in his voice, and Remus knew he was thirsting to take his pain out on somebody else, like a wounded dog.

Dorcas didn't back down. "The Death Eaters who did this to him are at fault. Not the Order."

"Why don't you say it?" snapped Sirius. "They murdered him. Murdered. Does tiptoeing around the fact make you feel better?"

Fresh tears rolled down Dorcas' cheeks, which she brushed away angrily. "Does being an arsehole make you feel better?"

That took the wind out of Sirius' sails, and he slumped against Remus, sighing. "Sorry," he muttered to Dorcas. "Got carried away."

"It's alright," said Dorcas, though her jaw was tight. "I miss him, too." Beside her, Marlene glared at Sirius.

"Do you know what happened to Alphard?" Peter asked Dorcas. "How he died, I mean."

Remus groaned internally. Peter hadn't spoken since they had begun their vigil, and this was what he wanted to talk about? "We don't need to know the details, Wormtail."

"Yes, we do," said Sirius, surprising Remus. "Wormy's right. I want to know what happened."

Dorcas bit her lip. "You know the rest of the Order doesn't tell me anything important. I'm still on watch duty at the Ministry," she added bitterly.

Sirius was not deterred. "You have to know something about how he died. Somebody in the Order must have let something slip."

"They haven't," said Dorcas, irritated. "They've only…"

"Only what?"

She hesitated, clearly weighing whether to continue. "I did overhear a few people talking. They mentioned that Dumbledore wasn't going to send anyone else to Albania. He decided it was a lost cause, apparently, after what happened to Alphard."

Remus' head jerked up. Albania was where Professor Prewett had been bitten by vampires. It had to be a coincidence. Unless… "You're certain they said Albania?"

"Of course she is," Marlene shot back. "Dorcas isn't deaf. Or stupid."

"I wasn't implying…" Remus trailed off. Better to say nothing at all, lest Marlene hex him.

"What would the Order be doing in Albania?" asked James. "There's nothing there. Just a lot of forests and villages, right?"

"No idea," said Dorcas. "But whatever they want, the Death Eaters are after it too." Her eyes welled with tears, and Marlene pulled her closer.

Sirius shifted, resting his elbows on his knees. "I wonder if Uncle Alphard left Regulus anything."

"They weren't particularly close, though, were they?" said James.

Sirius shook his head. "He didn't like the path my parents are forcing Reg down. That's why he wanted me to inherit Grimmauld Place…" He trailed off, then let out a groan. "Oh. Shit."

"What?" asked Peter.

"I just realized something." Sirius flopped back on the sofa. "With Uncle Alphard gone, my parents and Uncle Cygnus control the entire Black fortune. I bet they funnel it all to the Death Eaters as soon as they can."

Dorcas looked up, her eyes wide. "Alphard didn't leave you his share of the fortune?"

"It doesn't work like that," said Sirius. "He left me a bit of gold, yeah, but none of it came from the family treasury. That money belongs to the Blacks. It's part of the reason why we kill each other off so often — the last Black standing gets to control the coffers, and all the gold in them."

Dorcas looked worried.

"Is something the matter?" asked Marlene.

"It's just… Alphard gave the Order loads of money," said Dorcas. "They relied on him for so much. Now that he's gone… I don't know where they'll get the Galleons."

"Dumbledore will figure it out," said Sirius harshly. "I'm sure he's got a mountain of gold lying around somewhere that he can dip into. Uncle Alphard was worth more than the Galleons he donated to the Order."

"Of course he was." Dorcas' tone was steely. "You aren't the only one who cared for him, you know."

Lily interjected before Sirius could deliver a truly venomous response. "Alright, let's all take a moment to calm down. There's no need to quarrel…"

Marlene turned, her blue eyes blazing. "Dorcas is allowed to defend herself, isn't she?"

"Of course she is," said Lily. "I'm only saying — emotions are running high, that's all."

Sirius got to his feet, placing his untouched mug of Butterbeer on the floor. "I'm going to bed," he announced. "Come on, Moony."

Remus gave a little start at being addressed. He'd thought Sirius had forgotten that he was there.

What do you want from me? he wondered, but he followed Sirius down the hall and into the guest bedroom.

Sirius peeled off his school robes and climbed into bed. He patted the sheets beside him. "Sit, Moony."

Remus obliged, and Sirius curled up like he was a dog, placing his head in Remus' lap.

"Padfoot," said Remus, tense. "What —"

Sirius hushed him. "It's past midnight. Do you know what that means?"

Remus' chest grew tight. "It's your birthday."

"Happy birthday to me," said Sirius miserably. The outburst that had been building during his conversation with Dorcas seemed to have died within him. He lay half-curled atop the bed, as still and rigid as if he had been Petrified, his head heavy in Remus' lap. As he stared blankly into space, his eyes grew rimmed with red, but he didn't cry.

Remus thought a bit of conversation might do Sirius good; he was afraid of the dark turn Sirius' thoughts might take if he lay there brooding any longer. "I'm so sorry, Padfoot. It's never a good time to lose a loved one, and much less so on your birthday —"

"Hush," said Sirius, and Remus' mouth clamped shut immediately. "I don't want to talk anymore. Every time I talk, I hurt someone." Without looking up, he grabbed Remus' hand and drew Remus' fingers through his long, black hair, as though Remus was petting him. "Just — just be with me, alright?"

Remus curled his fingers in Sirius' hair. It was softer than he'd expected, silkier than Padfoot's tangled fur. "Alright," he whispered, and he stroked Sirius' hair hesitantly, as though the dark strands would snap if his fingers got caught.

Sirius closed his eyes, and his breathing deepened. Before ten minutes had passed, he was asleep.

Remus didn't dare move for fear of waking him. Instead, he watched Sirius' chest rise and fall and tried to memorize the feeling of Sirius' hair between his fingers.

He sought me out for comfort, Remus thought. Not James. Me.

If only Remus could be content with that. If only he could stop yearning for Sirius. Even though Sirius' cheek was pressed into his thigh, and his hands were in Sirius' hair, it wasn't enough. He wanted more.

Wanting was dangerous. Remus never got what he wanted.

He waited until he was certain that Sirius was deeply asleep. Then, carefully, he bent down and brushed his lips against the top of Sirius' forehead. He breathed in; Sirius smelled like butterscotch and leather.

Remus stayed awake for a long time after that, wishing. Wanting. Eventually, his head dipped to his chest, and he, too, drifted off to sleep.

Severus had thought he knew what exhaustion was, but after barely sleeping for a week, he had a new appreciation for the term.

Naturally, as soon as he and Regulus had agreed to take turns keeping an eye on Avery, Regulus' uncle had died. As a result, Regulus had been whisked home to attend the various will-readings and sombre ceremonies befitting a deceased member of the House of Black. That left Severus as Avery's sole caretaker.

Avery, for his part, hadn't put a toe out of line since the Halloween feast, but Severus refused to let down his guard. Even if Avery wasn't actively seeking out Muggle-borns to torture, he was still Imperiused. At any moment, he might be commanded to act, and only Severus would be able to stop him.

As a result, Severus had barely slept. Every night, he placed Avery in the Full-Body Bind Curse and traced runes around their dormitory door that would alert him if Avery tried to leave. Still, he found himself spending hours alert, ready to act should Avery twitch in his sleep. The exhaustion was taking a toll on him: he failed to complete his Charms homework for the first time ever and nearly nodded off into his Wit-Sharpening Elixir during Potions.

On Friday evening, he and Avery entered the Great Hall for dinner. Regulus was at the Slytherin table, picking at a slice of roast chicken, and Severus breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin you're back," he said, taking a seat on the bench opposite Regulus. "My condolences about your uncle, by the way. I trust the funeral went well?"

"It was a disaster," said Regulus. "Alphard left everything he could to my brother, who got disowned last summer, actually, so he wasn't even present. Completely blindsided my parents."

"They took it poorly?"

"Yeah," said Regulus. "My mother went berserk during the will reading, and things went downhill from there." He swallowed a bite of chicken. "She may have set the tapestry of the family tree on fire."

Severus found it comforting that other people had horrible parents, too. "Your mum sounds charming."

"She's… a strong personality," said Regulus. "I'm glad to be back, at least."

"Me, too," said Severus, "because it's your turn to babysit Edmund. I've gotten about four hours of sleep in the past week, and it has not made me a more pleasant person."

"You? Unpleasant?" said Regulus. "Who could have predicted?"

Severus' lip twitched. "Your uncle was an Obliviator, wasn't he? Good money, high-level access at the Ministry — he must have owned some interesting artefacts. Did he leave you anything in his will?"

Regulus looked embarrassed. "Not — not really."

"I will remind you that I am an accomplished Legilimens."

Regulus very nearly rolled his eyes. "Fine. He left me a couple of trinkets, that's all. No money — Sirius got that."

"That figures." Severus glanced at the Gryffindor table, where Sirius Black was staring at his plate, deep in thought. Probably plotting how best to spend all the Galleons his uncle left him.

After dinner, they were on their way back to the dungeons when a Slytherin prefect with a long ponytail stopped them. "Snape?" she asked. "Severus Snape?"

"That's my name, last I checked," said Severus peevishly. Whatever this girl wanted, she was standing between him and his bed.

"Sorry to bother you," said the prefect, "only… the Headmaster wants to see you in his office. Black and Avery, too," she added, looking at them apologetically.

So much for an early night's rest. Instead of responding, Severus whirled on his heel, heading back to the Entrance Hall. Regulus and Avery followed suit.

"You reckon he wants to talk about the attack on Jenkins?" whispered Regulus once the prefect was out of earshot.

"I'm sure of it," responded Severus shortly. To Avery, he said, "you'd better hope he doesn't expel you."

Avery whimpered. "But I… I couldn't help it! It wasn't my fault!"

"Don't listen to Severus," said Regulus. "You won't be expelled. We won't let that happen."

Severus certainly wouldn't complain if Dumbledore did expel Avery. At least that way he was guaranteed an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep.

When they reached the seventh floor, the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office stepped aside before they could utter a word. As Severus passed the gargoyle, he swore it glared at him.

Severus scowled back. He wondered if the Headmaster had already judged them guilty. The gargoyle's attitude seemed to suggest just that, at any rate.

As they entered the headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore inclined his head in greeting and gestured for them to take a seat. Severus sank obediently onto one of the three velvet chairs that faced the Headmaster's desk. On either side of him, Regulus and Avery did the same.

"Thank you for coming so rapidly to my office," said Professor Dumbledore. His tone was pleasant enough, but his icy blue eyes lacked their characteristic twinkle. "I wish to discuss a matter of great importance. There is no point in beating around the bush; two students have been attacked, and the perpetrator remains at large. I must confess that I have my suspicions about who might have done such a thing, but before jumping to any conclusions, I wish to hear your sides of the story."

He smiled benevolently at them, as though he hadn't just accused them of brutally maiming two Hogwarts students. Severus hated the headmaster's version of diplomacy.

Severus waited, hoping that Regulus would speak up. After an extended pause, it became clear that neither Regulus nor Avery was willing to speak for the group. Severus tried not to feel bitter about it. He'd always wanted to mentor the other Followers; lying to the Headmaster was part and parcel of the job, apparently.

Still, Severus didn't like his odds. He cleared his throat and let his thoughts slide beneath the placid barrier of Occlumency. "This may be difficult to believe, sir, but we didn't attack those students."

"Quite right," said Professor Dumbledore cheerily. "If I am reading the room correctly, two of you had no part in what happened to Owen Stickley and Albert Jenkins. There is a third person, however, who radiates guilt so loudly that I could sense it as he climbed the stairs to my office." Behind his half-moon glasses, his eyes flicked towards Avery, who was positively trembling in his chair.

To Severus' surprise, he found himself coming to Avery's defence. "If you can sense all that, sir," he said, fighting to keep his tone respectful, "then surely you already know that Avery is a victim as well. Just as much as Stickley and Jenkins."

For an instant, so quick that Severus almost missed it, the headmaster's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. "Why do you say that, Severus?"

Severus gritted his teeth at Dumbledore calling him by his first name. The false intimacy was so transparent. So infantilizing. "Edmund has been placed under the Imperius Curse," he said. "We do not know who is responsible. But I would ask — don't expel him. Please. This isn't his fault, and doing so would not bring you any closer to discovering the real culprit." He paused for breath, his mouth dry. He couldn't believe he was begging the Headmaster for Avery's sake. He'd even said please.

Professor Dumbledore leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. "Is this true, Edmund?"

To Severus' acute embarrassment, Avery began to cry. "It's t-t-true," he howled. "I couldn't h-help it. The voice — it made me — made me do horrible things, I'm s-sorry…" He trailed off, his voice dissolving into sobs.

Professor Dumbledore's expression softened, and he conjured a handkerchief in midair. Avery took the handkerchief gratefully and loudly blew his nose on it.

"Professor?" said Severus. For the moment, it looked like the headmaster wouldn't expel them, but he didn't want to push his luck. "How long does the Imperius Curse usually last? Is there any chance of it… wearing off, so to speak?"

"It's possible," said Professor Dumbledore, still examining Avery with concern. "The spell's power and duration generally depend on the prowess of its caster. I have heard of certain Dark wizards who, with a single Imperius Curse, can control their victims for years, even decades. But such reports are rare, and they would not apply to Edmund, in any case. I suspect that whoever cast the Imperius Curse on him is a student, and therefore rather less skilled than your average Dark wizard."

"So… it might wear off?" asked Severus.

"It almost certainly will," said Professor Dumbledore. "Though how long that could take, I cannot say for certain."

"But not… not decades, sir?"

"Likely not. Edmund has already been under the curse for nearly two months, if my calculations are correct. I would estimate that its effects may linger for several additional months, though likely less than a year."

That was not encouraging. Severus was ready to strangle Avery after only a week of babysitting; he couldn't take several more months of this. "I see," he said. "Is there no way to break the curse before that, sir? To speed up the process, so to speak?"

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. "There is a reason that the Imperius Curse is considered Unforgivable, I'm afraid. If we had a counter-curse, we could at least mitigate its most harmful effects. But I know of no such spell."

"And if I invented one?" said Severus.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "If you could do that, Severus, you might just find yourself saddled with an Order of Merlin, Second Class. Though I do not say this to discourage you — Professor Slughorn has long told me of how bright you are, and perhaps the genius of youth will succeed where others have failed."

Severus highly doubted that. Professor Slughorn couldn't even be bothered to pronounce his name correctly. "I was thinking more along the lines of an antidote, sir," he mumbled. "Some sort of potion." He felt embarrassed for even saying the words aloud; what was he doing, seeking Dumbledore's approval like this? He hated the headmaster. But the old wizard was so magnetic that even Severus found himself wanting to impress him.

Regulus spoke up at last. "Barring a breakthrough on Severus' part, what's to be done about Edmund? We've been trying to watch him, but — there's still the possibility that he could slip away from us and hurt someone again."

"An excellent question, Black," said Professor Dumbledore with a nod. Severus tried not to bristle. Why did Regulus get to be called by his surname? Why not he and Avery?

"Here is what I propose for the time being," continued Dumbledore. "As long as Edmund is not actively under the thrall of the Imperius Curse, I see no reason to disrupt his final year of study by sending him home. I will assign a few of our house-elves to keep an eye on him at all times and ensure that he is behaving appropriately. If he begins to act in a bizarre or suspicious manner, I will have them send for me or Professor McGonagall at once. I think weekly check-ins with Madam Pomfrey would be in order, as well. What do you say, Edmund?"

Avery scrubbed at his nose with the handkerchief. "Th-that sounds good, sir. Thank you, sir."

Severus thought it was a horrible plan. Any headmaster worth their salt would have had Avery committed to St Mungo's until it was clear he was no longer a danger to himself or others. Not for the first time in his life, he wished he'd gone to Durmstrang.

"I must admit, I'm surprised," Regulus told Severus after they left the headmaster's office. "I thought that Dumbledore would jump to conclusions and that we would be expelled. I didn't expect him to be so… reasonable."

Severus snorted. "I beg to differ. He's not taking the threat nearly seriously enough."

Regulus gave a little half-shrug. "At least we don't have to stay up all night watching Avery anymore. You must be happy to catch up on sleep, right?"

"Is that what you think I'll be doing?" They reached the second-floor landing, and Severus turned abruptly down the nearest corridor.

Regulus hesitated on the stairs. "Severus? Where are you going?"

"The library," Severus growled over his shoulder. He had a few ideas for an antidote, but he'd need to do some more research to be certain. Someone needed to stop this Imperius nonsense, after all, and it certainly wasn't going to be Dumbledore.

That meant it fell to Severus to save the day. Joy.

James was walking purposefully down a dimly lit corridor. There was someone just ahead of him — a girl with red hair and black robes.

He quickened his step, trying to reach her, but she broke into a run. The corridor grew darker, and he nearly lost sight of her. With a final burst of speed, he reached for the back of her robes —

He caught her arm, and she turned.

"Finally," he said. "You shouldn't be wandering around here alone, it's — Lily? Are you listening to me?"

She was staring at his chest, her eyes wide with shock.

He looked down. Splotches of crimson bloomed on his robes, warm and wet, spreading —

Lily began to shriek.

"No! James — NO!"

He awoke with a start, breathing heavily.

After a moment, James realized he'd been dreaming. It was odd — he didn't often have nightmares, and this one had felt so real. He could still hear Lily's screams echoing in his ears.

He ran a hand shakily through his hair, then checked his watch on the bedside table. Half-past eight; he needed to get up or he'd be late for Transfiguration.

He flung himself out of bed and did several press-ups, hoping that would banish the lingering aftereffects of the dream. Ever since he'd heard Lily's screams coming from Severus' wand, he'd hardly been able to think of anything else. And now the memory was invading his dreams, too.

She'd been beside herself when he had been hurt. What did that mean?

James had spent several days trying to puzzle it out, and he still had no idea. She didn't fancy him, of course; she'd been abundantly clear about that over the past seven years. But one didn't scream like that over an injured acquaintance, or even a friend. Perhaps she thought of him… as a brother? Yes, that made sense. James was certain he would do more than scream if Sirius was ever gravely wounded.

Feeling better now that he had a working theory about Lily's feelings towards him, James got dressed and left the Heads' dormitory. As he made his way towards the lower floors of the castle, he tried to convince himself that there were worse things than being thought of as a brother. For example, at least she didn't hate him anymore.

He couldn't deny that he would always hold a flame for her, though. She was assertive, even blunt at times, but she was also passionate and capable, and she made him laugh. She was everything he liked about the Marauders, all wrapped up in a single girl.

She was also never going to have feelings for him, and after seven years of rejections, he'd finally stopped hoping that she'd change her mind. He might not have much experience with girls, but he wasn't a complete idiot. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

James caught Lily's eye upon entering the Transfiguration classroom and flashed her what he hoped was a brotherly smile.

She frowned. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Brilliant. Just, er, trying out a new smile, that's all."

A corner of her lip turned up. "I liked your old one better, to be honest."

"Oh," he stuttered, "well, that's —"

Sirius came to his rescue, draping an arm across James' shoulders. "You look constipated, mate." He steered James towards the back of the classroom. "Mind sitting with Wormtail today? Remus has promised to do all my work for me, since I'm in mourning."

"Is that why you've been wearing that veil?" asked James. "I thought only witches wore those."

With a flourish, Sirius produced a lacy black veil from his pocket and draped it across his face. "It's what Uncle Alphard would have wanted."

"No, it's not," said Remus. "And I promised you no such thing, Padfoot. Uncle Alphard would want you to do your own work."

Sirius turned to Remus, indignant, and James took a seat beside Peter, shaking his head. At least Sirius was back to using humour as a coping mechanism; it had been worrying to see him so downtrodden.

James squinted at the instructions on the board. Today they were supposed to Vanish a box of matches, then Conjure that exact box of matches back from Unbeing. The ritual was extremely precise, with little room for error. Perhaps he should have done the assigned readings.

"Why are you practising a new smile?" asked Peter after Professor McGonagall had handed each student a matchbox.

"Er, just something I thought I'd try out," said James. "What did you think?"

Peter gave him a sly little grin. "Sirius was right. You did look constipated."

"Thanks, Pete." He flicked his wand, sending Peter's matches tumbling out of his matchbox.

"Don't," said Peter, laughing, "you'll…" He trailed off, gaping at the jumble of matches on his desk.

James was uncomfortably reminded of the horrified way Lily had stared at him in his dream. "Everything alright?"

Peter pointed at the matches with a trembling hand, his voice barely a whisper. "Don't you see it?"

"See what? A bunch of matchsticks?"

"The Jinx." Peter's blue eyes were as round as saucers. "It's back."

James squinted at the matchsticks. "Remind me again what it's supposed to look like?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," said Peter huffily, and he pointed his wand at the matchsticks, making a few of them glow red. "Now do you see it?"

James had to admit that the way the red matchsticks overlaid each other did look like an hourglass. "What about those ones, though?" he asked, pointing a few of the other matches. "They look more like the Seven of Coins to me…"

"Those ones aren't important!" said Peter shrilly. "This is further proof. Something bad is going to happen!"

James scratched his neck. "I mean, that's not much of a prediction. Bad things happen all the time, don't they? You could equally say that something good is going to happen and be just as correct."

"But not like this," said Peter. "Not in this specific pattern. The Jinx predicts good luck followed by sudden bad fortune…" His blue eyes widened. "I thought Sirius' uncle dying was the bad fortune, but what if it's the good luck?"

"Er, sorry," said James, "but how is Alphard's death lucky?"

"Not his death," explained Peter. "His will. Sirius just got a heap of gold and a flat in London. If that's not good luck, I don't know what is."

"Bollocks," said James. "Sirius' uncle had to die for Sirius to get that gold. Even if the Jinx is real, Alphard's death doesn't fit the pattern at all. I know you believe in this Divination stuff, Pete, but I think it's a reach."

Peter didn't look convinced. "Well, I think we ought to be on guard against sudden bad luck. I'm going to buy us all rabbit's feet on my next trip to Hogsmeade."

"You do that," said James, distracted. At the front of the room, Lily had Conjured her matchbox in exactly the same spot where it had Vanished, and she was beaming at Professor McGonagall's praise. "Get a rabbit's foot for Lily, too, would you?"

Peter blinked. "Oh," he said. "I — erm, I suppose I can do that. I'd planned on it just being us Marauders, but…"

"She's my girlfriend," said James, and for the first time, he managed not to choke on the word. "I'm not saying I believe in the Jinx, mind you. But if there's bad luck floating around, she ought to be protected from it."

At the end of the lesson, James was trying to slip his matchbox into his bag — Muggle matches smelled nice, and there were some old essays in his bedroom he wanted to burn — when Professor McGonagall approached his desk.

"Potter," she said briskly. "Might I speak to you and Miss Evans for a minute?"

"Er, yeah, sure," he said. He glanced at Lily, hoping she might know what this was about, but she gave him a little shrug.

Professor McGonagall closed the door of the classroom as the last student filed out. She turned to James and Lily, her expression grim. "There has been another attack."

"Another?" Lily's eyes widened. "But nobody's come through the hospital wing. Unless they were transferred directly to St Mungo's?"

"This one was not as bad as the first," said Professor McGonagall. "Another Slytherin student was wounded, but Professor Slughorn was able to intervene before the situation got out of hand."

Lily chewed on her bottom lip. "Whoever's behind these attacks seems to be targeting Slytherin students. Are we certain it's not someone in Slytherin?"

"Professor Dumbledore has spoken to several Slytherin students," said Professor McGonagall. "He believes that the Imperius Curse is being used, forcing students to attack one another."

"The Imperius Curse?" repeated James incredulously. "But that's a life sentence in Azkaban if caught. What sort of lunatic would do that at Hogwarts?"

Lily looked grim. "Somebody who doesn't want to get their hands dirty."

Professor McGonagall inclined her head. "I don't suppose you two have had any luck in catching the culprit?"

Lily's face fell, and James was certain that she felt guilty for not doing more to investigate. "I did a bit of poking around in Slytherin," he volunteered so that she didn't have to speak. "Didn't find much, though. I thought that Snape fellow might have had something to do with it, but he was as clueless as I was, funnily enough."

Lily shot him a grateful look. "We'll increase the prefect patrols, Professor," she said. "Maybe we can implement a sort of buddy system, too, so that no student is ever alone in the castle. I imagine that might deter whoever is behind these attacks — it would make it harder for them to find a victim to target, at least."

"Those are reasonable measures for the time being," said Professor McGonagall. She swept behind her desk and began to erase the blackboard with her wand. "There was another matter I wished to discuss with you two. You have heard of the Illumina celebration, I presume?"

"Yes," said Lily.

"No," said James.

Both Professor McGonagall and Lily turned to him, confused.

"You've never heard of Illumina, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall archly.

"Er. No?"

Lily was looking at him as if he had three heads. "Have you never read Hogwarts: A History?"

"Remus has read it," said James defensively.

"Oh, my God," said Lily. "And why is that relevant, exactly?"

"Well, you know," he said. "No point in both of us wasting our time…"

Lily threw up her hands and looked to Professor McGonagall for help. Professor McGonagall, for her part, appeared to be fighting to keep a neutral expression on her face. "The Illumina celebration, Potter," she said in a clipped voice, "is a long and storied Hogwarts tradition that reaches back centuries. Though it has not been celebrated in some decades, Illumina is traditionally held at the end of the autumn term and celebrates the inclusion of Muggle-borns and half-bloods into the Hogwarts student body. Given the current state of wizarding Britain, Professor Dumbledore believes that such a celebration would help to unite us, at a time when so many seek to divide."

"Hang on," said James slowly. "You mean… Muggle-borns and half-bloods weren't always welcome at Hogwarts?"

Lily muttered, "If you'd ever read Hogwarts: A History…"

"Potter," said Professor McGonagall, "how do you think the village of Hogsmeade came to be?"

"Er," he said. "I dunno. A bunch of entrepreneurs saw an opportunity to fleece Hogwarts students of their Galleons?"

Lily perched on the nearest desk and crossed her arms. "No, James," she said. "Hogsmeade was originally where Muggle-born and half-blood students lived while studying at Hogwarts. Only pure-bloods were allowed to stay in the castle."

"Did you never wonder, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, "why the grounds of Hogwarts are encircled by a large wall?"

James had never given the wall a second thought. His stomach churned with embarrassment as he realized just how naive he had been.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, directing the words at Lily. "I didn't know. I feel like an idiot."

Lily opened her mouth, and he expected her to tell him that he really was an idiot, but what she said instead was, "It's alright. It was a long time ago, anyway." She turned to Professor McGonagall. "So we're putting on an Illumina celebration this year?"

"Indeed," said Professor McGonagall. "I was hoping to enlist your help with the preparations. Professor Flitwick and I will be doing most of the charms, of course, but traditionally the entire wall surrounding Hogwarts is Vanished, and there are scores of candles to be bought and placed on the grounds…"

"We can take care of the candles and the wall," said Lily. She looked at James, excited. "Illumina is supposed to be really beautiful, I've seen pictures but never thought I'd actually get to experience it. I've got an idea for the wall, actually — instead of Vanishing it, maybe we could Transfigure it into — into hundreds of strings of candles, or something. So that people could pass back and forth through it, going from Hogsmeade to the castle. It'd be a lot of work, but… what do you think?"

James' stomach unknotted, and he found himself smiling at her enthusiasm. "I think it's a great idea. You're brilliant, Lily."

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Professor McGonagall smile.

A/N: Ooooh, I wonder what's in Albania, any thoughts? :) Thanks for reading!