Sorry for the delay, I've been bogged down with finals! I should actually be able to update regularly now.

CHAPTER THREE
BAIT AND SWITCH


James pulls to a halt in midair, grinning. "Alright, looking good! Chasers and beaters— and you too Benjy— let's try that one last time and then call it a day."

Cresswell and McKinnon form up behind him, and like an arrow they dive towards the goal hoops, passing the Quaffle between them faster than the eye can see. The beaters, fourth years Daren Turner and Todd Kane, form an honour guard slightly beneath them.

The chasers spiral around each other in a helix, the Quaffle a red blur as it dances from one to the other to the other— upon reaching the goal hoops, the Quaffle is in James' possession— he takes the shot—

But it's blocked by a grinning Benjy Fenwick.

"Ooh. So close, Potter."

James rolls his eyes, but he can't be too annoyed. "Yeah, yeah, leave it out Fenwick. That was a good save."

"Cheers. Say, isn't that your good-looking friend over there?"

"Who?"

James turns and looks to the stands where Fenwick is pointing— Sirius has edged his way into a seat, and he waves as the team descends onto the pitch.

"You think he's handsome?" James says indignantly. "What about me?"

"I won't answer that on the grounds that I'd like to keep my position on the team," says Fenwick, and the team— all except James— laughs.

"Don't worry, Potter, I've heard Dorcas Meadowes doesn't think you're half bad." Marlene pipes up.

"Is she blind?" Says Cresswell with a snicker.

"Yeah, very funny." Says James. "Listen, we played brilliantly today. Play like that at the match and Slytherin don't stand a chance."

"We'll flatten them." Marlene says.

"They won't know what's hit them," agrees Cresswell.

The team bumps fists, full of confidence and camaraderie.

"Glad to have you out of the Hospital Wing, Marlene." Says James as they head to the changing rooms, broomsticks slung over their shoulders.

"Not as glad as I am. Any longer in that place and I would have gone raving mad."

"Yeah, I heard they put you up across from the succubus herself. Must've been a nightmare."

Marlene doesn't reply, looks away.

James claps her on the shoulder sympathetically. "Well, you lot go on and hit the showers then." He says. "I'll be along in a minute."

He gets back on his broomstick as they troop out, kicking off the ground and soaring into the stands where Sirius sits. He dismounts with ease, resting the broomstick on a bench.

"Look who it is," says James, grinning widely. "Happy birthday, mate, come here."

Sirius stands up and James pulls him in for an embrace.

"How does sixteen feel, then? All it's cracked up to be?"

Sirius shrugs. "Nah, still feel like the exact same person. I reckon he's alright, though, so I'm not complaining."

James laughs. "Yeah, he's alright. I didn't expect to see you so early on so I didn't bring your present with me. I'll give it you later— what else do you want to do today? We can skive off if you want!"

"Better not, we're already full up on detentions as it is." Says Sirius.

James eyes him, amused. "Since when are you so sensible? Must be your advanced age..." He dodges a friendly punch from Sirius. "Well, whatever you want today, mate, consider it done."

"Thanks," says Sirius softly.

They descend the stands, James grabbing his broomstick and hoisting it over his shoulder.

"How was practise then?"

"Really good," replies James honestly. "I reckon we're really shaping up. We ought to send Slytherin home packing."

They head under the stands, through a door into the changing room, where most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team is getting dressed, freshly showered.

"Are you even allowed in here, Black?" Calls Cresswell from the other side of the lockers.

"Yeah, there's girls changing here and all." Marlene says. She's buttoning up her school shirt, clearly not very bothered about all the other boys in the room.

"Don't flatter yourself, McKinnon. Besides, you don't seem to care about the rest of them." Sirius points out.

"Well they hardly count as boys, do they?"

"Oi!" Says Cresswell indignantly.

She sticks her tongue out at him.

"Right, well, I'm going to shower. Won't be a moment." Says James to Sirius.

He pulls his kit off over his head as he walks, flinging it on a nearby bench with abandon. Sirius sits on a bench to wait.

On his way into the shower, James crosses paths with Fenwick coming out, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Make sure you scrub behind your ears, Potter."

"Piss off."

He heads in, and Fenwick goes to his locker— right next to where Sirius sits.

Fenwick barely glances at him, then frowns and looks at him again. "Oh, you're here."

Sirius frowns back. He's never really quite been able to figure this bloke out, and it sets him a little on edge.

"Yeah, I s'pose I am."

"Black, isn't it? I heard your little brother's playing seeker for the Slytherins this year."

Sirius shrugs, full of casual nonchalance. "Is he? To be honest with you I try not to pay attention to whatever that little twat's doing if I can help it."

Fenwick looks at him with sympathy. "Yeah, I know how that is. You know that slimy little Slytherin prefect, Wilkes? Well, we're cousins. I don't know who's more ashamed of the other to be honest. His family doesn't speak to mine, hasn't for years since my mum married a muggle."

"I can't imagine what my family'd do if I married a muggle," says Sirius.

"Old wizarding families, right? They're all the same, though I've heard the Blacks are particularly nasty. Present company excepted of course."

"Right."

"Don't worry- our Aisha's going to make your brother wish he'd never touched a broomstick. Best seeker I've ever seen, even though she's tiny."

Aisha, a very small second year, looks over from where she's packing up her things and smiles. "Cheers, Fenwick."

He nods at her as she leaves, and turns back to Sirius.

"Good on you for getting away from all that. It must've taken courage. I s'pose that's why you're in Gryffindor, isn't it."

"Could be," says Sirius cryptically.

Fenwick regards him with amusement. He adjusts his tie, looks at himself in the mirror inside of his locker and fixes a few out of place strands.

"Man of few words, aren't you, Black? Well, doesn't matter if you're shy. I'm not."

Sirius has no idea what to say to that.

"See you around, then."

"Yeah, see you."

Fenwick nods, shouldering his bag and exiting the locker room.

"Well, that was weird." Marlene comments. "He's so weird. See you later, Black."

She leaves too, closely followed by Dirk Cresswell. Sirius sits for a minute, now alone, idly turning the conversation over in his mind.

Finally, James emerges from the shower, toweling his hair dry. He starts to get dressed, and sees the look on Sirius' face.

"Alright?

"Yeah. That Fenwick..."

"What about him?"

Sirius hesitates. "Dunno. He gives me an odd feeling, that's all."

"Yeah, he gives us all an odd feeling. But he's a damn good keeper, so I don't much care."

He pulls on his school jumper, then ruffles his hair in the locker mirror.

"Coming then?"

Sirius nods, jumping to his feet.


Mary walks alone along the pumpkin patch, near Hagrid's hut. She is lost in thought, one hand buried deep in the pockets of her coat.

The other holds a cigarette, and is a little shaky as she brings it to her mouth and takes a drag.

The smoke spirals up into the grey sky and she watches it pensively. Then she keeps walking, nearing the edge of the ominous Forbidden Forest. Darkness seems to seep through the low-hanging, mossy branches of the trees, and it's all a little too quiet...

CRACK! A twig snaps somewhere behind her, and she whips around, wand out...

There's nothing there.

Her heart is racing, but she decides to ignore it and continue her walk and her smoke. She climbs up a stone-dotted grassy hill.

Behind her, a raven is startled by something and flies away, cawing loudly. She turns, but again, there is nothing.

Now very on edge, Mary reaches the stone circle and tosses her cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stamp it out or look back as she hurries across the wooden covered bridge that leads back to the castle.

In front of one the rocks, something that was blending perfectly with the stone moves and shimmers. Slowly, the disillusionment charm melts away and Mulciber steps towards the centre of the circle.

He moves forward and inspects the cigarette end. It's still smoking slightly, and the faint red mark of her lipstick is visible.

He regards it, then steps on it to put it out and leaves.


The portrait hole swings shut behind them as the Marauders exit the common room. The Fat Lady is snoozing gently, leaning on her hand.

"You go on ahead," says James suddenly. "I've got to get something."

Sirius nods. "Alright, don't take too long. Breakfast is nearly over."

"I'll only be a minute."

Sirius, Peter, and Remus head down the corridor. James waits a moment until they're gone, then looks around furtively before ducking under a nearby tapestry into a dusty little room filled with empty picture frames and covered boxes.

He moves a few frames out of the way— under them is a small, rectangular package, brightly and lovingly wrapped. James snatches it up, tucks it under his arm and pushes his way back out of the tapestry— he freezes.

Severus Snape is now standing awkwardly in the hallway, and sees him come out, mouth opening in surprise. James, caught, stares at him.

"What are you doing here?" James demands, as if popping suddenly out of a tapestry isn't much more suspicious.

"Waiting for Lily, aren't I?"

"Stalking her more like."

Severus ignores this, eyes narrowing. He moves towards the tapestry, blocking James. "What were you doing in there? What's back there?

James rolls his eyes and shrugs it off, trying to walk past him.

"What I do is none of your business. It's just a hidden storage room. Nothing in there but dusty portraits and boxes."

"I don't believe you."

James stops, looking at him with distaste. "Fine," he says hatefully. "Then have a look for yourself."

He puts his hand on Sev's back and roughly shoves him at the tapestry. Severus stumbles forward into it, landing on the ground halfway into the room. James laughs unkindly at his misfortune.

"Wanker."

James starts to leave, but Severus scrambles to his feet and points his wand at him, breathing heavily.

"Stay where you are."

James stops, looking at it fearlessly.

"What are you going to do with that? Jinx me again?"

"I've half a mind to. Or worse."

"You're pathetic," spits James. "Does Evans know what side you were really fighting on at the protest?"

"Shut up! What's Lily got to do with this, anyway?"

James hesitates, then answers defensively. "I just reckon she can do better than you, that's all."

"Oh yeah? Like who—"

Something clicks in Severus's mind mid-sentence, and he stops and stares at James with a new horror.

"You— you?" He stammers.

"Me what?" James says viciously. "Were I you, mate, I'd give it up already. A bird like Evans is never going to go for a bloke like you. You must know that."

"At least I'm her friend."

James is stung, but recovers quickly. "And that's all you'll ever be, isn't it? I'd wager soon enough you won't even be that."

Severus snarls in anger, and instinctively fires a curse. James dodges it, laughing— less with genuine mirth and more designed to provoke, bitter and harsh.

"Depulso!"

Severus is propelled backwards, slamming forcefully against the wall and crumpling onto the floor. His ears are ringing.

Potter looms over him. "Do Evans, and all of us, a favour— find some wretched hole to crawl in and die."

With that he leaves, and Severus has no more willpower to stop him.

He blindly pushes his way into the room behind the tapestry and sinks to the floor between some boxes, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Silent sobs wrack his body and he cries it out, rocking back and forth and unable to control the streaming of his eyes and nose or the shaking of his shoulders.


James finally arrives down at the Great Hall, just as the clock chimes and the enormous doors open, allowing hundreds of kids to flood out, streaming towards their first classes. He spots his friends and makes a beeline for them.

"What's kept you? You missed breakfast." Says Sirius.

"Sorry, ran into Snivellus and he tried to curse my bollocks off."

"What?" Says Remus, aghast. "You should report him!"

"Nah, we'll just get him back later." Says Sirius.

Remus doesn't look too happy with that as James tucks the present away in his robes.

"I'll give it you later, Sirius, sorry mate. It just takes some explaining."

Sirius shrugs. "No trouble. Let's get to charms then."

They look at him oddly.

"What?"

"Sirius, it's Monday today. We've got potions first thing on Mondays."

"Oh, right. Well in that case, let's get to potions."

Lily and Marlene wait at the top of the staircase that leads to the Dungeons.

"There you are," says Lily when she sees Mary hurrying towards them. "I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry," Mary mumbles. "Been having a weird morning."

Lily opens her mouth to ask her about it, but just then James Potter and his friends arrive.

"Nice to see you with your top on, McKinnon." Says Sirius Black, smirking.

"Nice to- actually, it's not nice to see you at all, honestly." Replies Marlene, coolly.

The Marauders laugh at him as they pass, heading down the stairwell.

"What was all that about?" Asks Mary curiously.

Marlene shrugs. "Oh, he was hanging about in the locker room after practise this morning. I think he might have a seizure if he stays away from Potter too long."

"You and him seem friendly," Mary says slyly.

Lily, however, crosses her arms. "You don't fancy him, do you? Because Sirius Black is trouble."

"Oh, no, 'course not. He's gorgeous, of course, but I know better than to fall for it. Besides, he's not my type." She says, waving the thought away.

"Yeah and what is your type, Marlene?" Asks Mary. "I've never seen you interested in a bloke, never."

"I'm just picky, that's all. Boys at this school can just be so... immature, can't they."

Cresswell skids to a halt beside them, gasping for breath. "Am I late? Why aren't you lot in class?"

"We've still got ten minutes," says Mary. She plucks at his robes. "You've got this on inside out, did you know?"

He looks down. "Ah, shite. Bugger." Cresswell pulls his robes over his head as he descends the staircase.

The three girls exchange looks.

"Marlene's got a point," says Lily.

"Yeah, maybe." Mary says. "I s'pose we can only wait and see and hope they improve by the time we leave school."

"Oh, I doubt it." Lily says loftily.

Marlene eyes her other friend significantly. "But Cresswell's sort of sweet, isn't he, Mary?"

"Yeah, s'pose so..." Mary trails off, looking around nervously.

"What's eating you, then?" Asks Lily concernedly.

Mary frowns. "I don't know... I keep thinking someone's been following me. I know it sounds mental, but I just keep having this feeling— oh I don't know."

"Someone's been following you? Like who?"

"Couldn't be Rosier, looking for revenge, could it?" Says Marlene.

"I don't think so. I mean, he's a twisted bastard, isn't he, but I think he'd just come out and face me if that's what he wanted. It's probably nothing, you know how I get."

"Well alright, but you ought to be careful, you hear me?" Says Lily. "You're not exactly the most popular girl in school at the moment."

This gets a little grin out of Mary.

"I'm really not, am I?"

They descend a narrow spiral stairway into the dungeons.

The last of the students are trickling into the class. Lily and Marlene head in, but Mary lingers, peering down the corridor but seeing nothing.

"Coming, Mary?"

"Yeah. Sorry!"

She shakes it off and goes in.


Rosier sits alone in front of the fire, brooding. He watches the flames flicker in the grate.

Presently, Mulciber enters the common room and sees him, crossing over to join him on the sofa.

"Didn't fancy going to class either, I see."

Rosier scoffs. "Defence Against the Dark Arts. What a joke. As if wizards need to defend ourselves from our truest birthright. All this school does is teach us to suppress our power. Make us into harmless puppets for the sake of decorum. It makes me sick."

"Don't worry. We'll be gone from here soon enough. But our work is important. For now, this is where we're needed."

"I know that, but the longer I'm here the harder it gets to remember. Some days I just want to make them all hurt. Like that mudblood MacDonald- she made me look like a fool, all because I had to control myself and not use any spells that would give me away."

Mulciber pats his arm consolingly."I know it's hard, Evan. You did well. He'll be pleased, with both of us."

Rosier nods, trying to reassure himself.

"Maybe you should leave MacDonald to me," says Mulciber thoughtfully.

"You have something in mind?"

"She'll regret ever having challenged us." Mulciber stares into the fire, watching the reflection of the flames leap across the shiny black stone.


"And make sure you scrub your cauldrons out properly this time." Slughorn says, as his students hurry to pack up their things. "I'm not having any more accidents in here just because someone was too lazy to scrape powdered erumpent horn off the sides."

"Remember your essays are due at the end of the week! We've got a lot of ground left to cover to get you all ready for your OWL, and it doesn't help that we're behind a day because of that fiasco on Friday."

"It was hardly a fiasco, sir." Says Mary loudly. "I reckon it did exactly what it was supposed to."

She glares over at the Slytherins, receiving some dirty looks in exchange.

Slughorn tuts. "Yes, well, we may have differing opinions on that, Miss MacDonald. Still, I daresay you have a right to yours, so long as it doesn't impede you from turning in your essay on time."

"No, sir."

She finishes packing up and hurries out of the classroom with her friends.

Outside the door, Marlene hangs back.

"You two go on ahead. I've just got to check something about my essay."

"Alright," says Lily, and she and Mary depart. Marlene waits, casually leaning against the door as students file out, then finally the Slytherins.

"You've been looking downright miserable, Snape." Avery says over his shoulder. "More than usual, at any rate. Has something happened?"

"Oh let him alone, he's just sensitive." Sneers Nicola Selwyn as she exits after him.

Marlene catches Nicola by the elbow. She stares up at Marlene, offended.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Demands Corrin Shea.

Marlene takes a deep breath. "I just want a word with Nicola."

"Nicola?" Repeats Shea incredulously. "She's Selwyn to you."

"It's fine, Corrin, just go on without me." Says Nicola, patting his arm. He glares suspiciously back at them as they leave.

Nicola rounds on Marlene. "What do you think you're playing at?"

"I don't know— you haven't said two words to me since we left the hospital wing."

"And why would I?" Says Nicola loftily. "We aren't friends."

"No, maybe we aren't, but we're—" Marlene pauses, struggles to find the words. "Well, we talked, didn't we? I told you stuff that even my friends don't know about me, and you told me—"

"Don't you dare repeat any of it to anyone."

"I haven't! I wouldn't."

"Good. But I don't know what you expected. Thought we'd be friends skipping 'round the school arm in arm, singing songs?"

"Not that, but I thought... I don't know. I s'pose it doesn't matter what I thought."

Nicola relents a little, heaving a sigh. "Look, it's just not meant to be. I've got my friends and you've got yours. I think it was just easy for us to talk to each other when we were in there."

Marlene nods. "Yeah, it felt good to talk to someone. If I tried to tell my friends about all that they'd look at me so differently, I couldn't bear it..."

Nicola eyes her thoughtfully. "Listen, you know what I said about those charms? That offer still stands."

"Oh I don't know, it sounds a bit dangerous." Says Marlene uncertainly.

"It is dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. But I'll be there with you, won't I?"

Marlene looks at her, bites her lip.

The transfiguration classroom is long, well-lit, with rows of desks facing a raised platform where Professor McGonagall stands near hers. A small, ridiculously adorable albino rabbit sits on her desk, nose twitching, and more animals rustle from large cages around the room.

The Gryffindors have just started their lesson when Marlene comes tearing in, drawing the eyes of all her classmates.

"Late again, Miss McKinnon?"

"I'm so sorry, Professor, I just got caught up—"

"I don't want to hear it, Miss McKinnon. Take a seat, and that'll be five points from Gryffindor for tardiness."

This hits Marlene a little harder than it would ordinarily, and she closes her eyes as she sinks into her chair.

"What took you so long?" Mary hisses at her.

"I was—"

"No chatter, Miss McKinnon, or I'll have to dock further points," snaps McGonagall.

Marlene shuts up.

"Now as you're no doubt tired of hearing, your OWLs are imminent and it's my job to make sure as many of you pass as possible. Of course, there is only so much one can teach, and some people refuse to ever learn at all— but as your teacher, all I can do is my best. I expect the very same from each and every one of you."

The students look around at each other warily.

"This year, you can't afford to take any of your classes lightly if you want to have any hope of succeeding in life. That means doing your homework, participating to your fullest extent in classes, and, when you can, being on time."

Marlene sighs, shamefaced.

"Today we'll be covering what is called Transfigurative Potential, that is, transfigurations that are cast at one specific time but can then be activated at any other, with minimal effort."

McGonagall taps the rabbit and it turns into a white flower. She taps it again and it turns back.

"The difficulty lies in that the actual object, 'z', must at all times comprise the essence of both 'x'- the model- and 'y'- the product- as well as the magical potential to be transfigured from one into the other. This can be understood as the following..."

She erases the blackboard with a wave of her wand and starts scribbling with chalk:

t=([x y]/p)

"Now, when attempting to cast these spells without allowing for this idea, you may run into difficulties and results that make no sense. Each transfiguration will be unique, but understanding this basic sub-algorithm is key."

Marlene looks around to see James has perked up with interest, scribbling madly on his parchment. He looks up, hanging on McGonagall's every word. Marlene rolls her eyes. Bloody teacher's pet.

"And you see, it really is quite simple, although—" McGonagall is interrupted by the door opening and Mulciber entering.

"I assume you have a good reason for interrupting my class, Mr. Mulciber?"

"Yes, sorry Professor," he says contritely. "Professor Slughorn sent me to fetch a student."

"And which student might that be? You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"Mary MacDonald. He said he has to have a word with her, something about an essay."

Mary doesn't move, heart suddenly hammering in her chest. The other Gryffindors are staring; she can see Lily and Marlene tense beside her.

"Well go on then," prompts McGonagall. "Unless you want to waste more of Professor Slughorn's time.

Slowly, Mary rises to her feet as if she's been sentenced for the executioner's block. She grabs her bag.

"Professor, maybe I ought to go with her—"

"Why on earth would you need to do that, Miss Evans?"

Mary follows Mulciber out of the room, not looking back at any of her friends.

Out in the courtyard, Mary's gaze lingers on the fountain where she gave her impassioned speech— Mulciber follows where she's looking, smiles inscrutably.

"Come on then," he says.

She follows him, and they walk in silence. He holds the door open for her.

They continue, still not speaking a word to each other. They do seem to be heading to the dungeons, and as they cross a bridge that spans two towers Mary is just starting to think that maybe he really is just fetching her for Slughorn when suddenly, Mulciber stops. Mary nearly crashes into him.

"Oi, watch it!"

He leers at her, eyes glittering. "Yes, that's you, isn't it MacDonald, so vulgar and common and rude. And yet... there's something there, isn't there?"

She glares at him.

"No. There's not. Are we going, or what?"

"Mary— can I call you Mary— I wasn't actually sent by Slughorn. I brought you up here because I wanted to talk."

Mary folds her arms over her chest. Her stomach is twisted up in knots, but she's trying not to show it. "You wanted to talk. Couldn't it just have waited until tonight's detention?"

"I wanted to talk privately. See, despite your low birth I have a modicum of respect for you, so I'm going to give you some friendly advice— and I give it as an equal."

She scoffs. "As an equal? Oh, that's a laugh. You, Mulciber, are far, far below me."

She kicks at the edge of an embrasure, and a small spray of little rocks cascade over and plunge down to the depths below.

"Tell yourself that if you want. Blood doesn't lie. But I didn't bring you here to argue. I only wanted to tell you— if you continue on this brazen path, things will go very badly for you, very badly for you indeed."

"Is that a threat?"

"It is what I said it is," he says with a shrug. "A friendly warning. You're on a perilous precipice, Mary, and you want to be careful you don't fall off it entirely."

"Toss off," she spits.

His eyes grow dark, and without warning he grabs her, holds her over the edge of the parapet. She struggles to loosen his grip or reach her wand, but he's too strong, she's helpless—

He hisses in her ear. "Consider yourself warned. There may come a day when you'll wish you'd've listened to me."

He lets her go and she stumbles away from him and the edge. She looks at him in mixed horror and anger.

"Is it you that's been following me?"

He only smiles in response, and bows exaggeratedly before turning on his heel and departing.


Remus is walking alone along the fourth floor corridor, clutching the strap of his bag like a drowning man. His friends have disappeared off to the library again, saying they'd meet him at lunch. He knows they're off researching Animagus stuff— the fire in James' eyes after transfiguration told him as much.

He's just turning the corner when Severus Snape steps out of a doorway and blocks his path.

Instinctively, Remus backs up. He looks around— the corridor is deserted. "Oh. What do you want?"

"I want to know what you and your friends've been up to."

"Up to? What are you talking about? We're not up to anything!"

He tries to go around him, but Severus fills the doorway. He points his wand threateningly at Remus, jabbing it after every word to accentuate his meaning.

"Don't. Lie. To. Me."

"I'm not lying to you," says Remus, as politely as he can given that it's Snape. "Now will you get out of my way, please."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"You and your friends think you're so bloody tough, but mark my words, I'm going to take you down. I'm going to find out Potter's big secret—"

Remus goggles at him. "You're mental. I don't know what your problem is, but James hasn't got a big secret. You're wasting your time."

"Oh yeah? Then why are you lot always sneaking around, and why is he checking out books on becoming an Animagus at the library?

Remus stiffens— how does he know? He tries to cover it, but it's too late. Snape has seen, and he seizes upon the weakness.

"That's right, bet you didn't know I knew about that. What's he hiding?"

"He's not hiding anything, he's just interested in doing it after OWLs, his best subject's transfiguration..."

"Yes, Potter's so great and talented, blah blah blah." Snarls Snape with venom. "I've heard it all before. I don't believe a word of it."

Remus draws himself up bravely. "Believe what you like. I reckon you're just a little too obsessed with what James is doing, and honestly, it's sort of pathetic."

The word elicits a strong reaction from Severus— he's suddenly furious, towering over Remus threateningly.

"Don't call me that."

Remus, though intimidated, stands his ground. "Why not? It's what you are. A pathetic, Dark-Arts-obsessed—"

He doesn't have time to finish; Severus slashes his wand viciously down, causing Remus to be blown backwards in a violent gust of wind. He skids across the floor and crashes into a suit of armor, wand clattering away.

Remus pushes the armor off him and tries to get up, but Severus has him magically pinned down. All he can do is look up in fear as Severus looms above him, wand pointed at his chest.

"Do you want to see some Dark Arts, Lupin? I'll show you Dark Arts."

He raises his wand.

"Sectum—"

He doesn't have time to finish.

"Confundo!" Shouts a voice, and a wave of smoke engulfs Snape. He totters back, wand hand falling limply to his side. His face is blank, disoriented, as if he has no idea where he is or what he's doing.

Peter hurries to Remus's side, pushing Snape out of the way.

"Remus! Are you alright?"

He helps Remus to his feet and dusts him off.

"Yeah... just about. Thanks for stepping in."

Peter eyes Snape, who is frowning at them in bewilderment.

"I'd just come to fetch you when I saw him approaching," he says, waving the map. "Rotten bastard."

"Yeah... what should we do?" Asks Remus worriedly. "We can't just leave him wandering around, surely? He'll hurt himself like this."

"Sorry, are you talking about me?" Snape says, in the most pleasant voice they've ever heard from him.

"No," replies Peter curtly, turning back to Remus. "Why not? Who cares if he hurts himself?"

Remus frowns. "I don't know, just seems wrong is all."

He approaches Severus and holds him gently by the shoulders. "Snape? Severus?"

Severus points at himself.

"Yes, you. How about sitting down right here and not moving for a few hours, until this spell wears off? How does that sound?"

Snape nods, a dreamy look in his eye. "Brilliant... that sounds..."

He does as Remus asks, sliding down against the wall and sitting there, staring blankly ahead.

Satisfied, Remus and Peter start down the hallway together.

"Do you reckon he was telling the truth, about using the Dark Arts on you and all?"

Remus shudders. "I don't know. I hope not, but Snape's always been fascinated with the Dark Arts, hasn't he? Stands to reason he'd use them too, doesn't it."

"James and Sirius'll go mental when they find out."

"No!" Says Remus loudly, startling a few portraits out of their midday snooze. "Sorry! I mean, no— we don't need to tell them about this. They'll just go after Snape again and then Snape'll come after us and things will get out of control. Best to just forget about it, alright?"

Peter pats his shoulder. "Well, alright. If that's what you want."

Remus nods. "Yeah, it is."

They find James and Sirius at the Gryffindor table, piling ham sandwiches and chips onto their plates.

"Good time at the library?" Asks Remus as they sit down.

"We came here a bit earlier than planned, 'cause Sirius was too hungry to read." James says, trying and failing to look annoyed.

"Hey, I have needs." Sirius says through a mouthful of chips.

James waits a moment, then takes out Sirius's present from his pocket and places it on the table.

Sirius doesn't even notice it, so James slides it forward into his elbow.

He stops and looks at it, swallows.

"Oh. Should I open it now?"

"Yeah, go on."

They all wait with anticipation as Sirius turns the parcel over in his hands. James looks brimful of confidence that this will be the best gift Sirius has ever received.

Sirius opens it, letting the wrapping paper fall to the ground thoughtlessly.

It appears to be a picture frame. From the back, Remus can't see what it is.

"Well?" Prompts James.

"It's a..." Sirius turns his head sideways. "I don't really understand it, to be honest."

He sets the frame down on the table, and Remus and Peter lean over for a look. Inside is a small clipping from a muggle magazine or catalogue, glossy and slightly wrinkled, depicting a fearsome motorbike.

"You remember last summer when we went to Spain with my family and you said you really liked those things the Muggles were riding around on? Well they're called motorbikes. Sort of like a car but with two wheels."

"Yeah, I know what a motorbike is. I have loads of pictures like this in my room."

James rolls his eyes. "The picture isn't the present, you daft bastard, its the real thing, isn't it! The motorbike! It's at my parents right now but you can come get it over the holidays. They pitched in, so you'd better write and thank them. Though it was my idea, obviously."

"Wow, Sirius!" Squeals Peter.

Sirius is awestruck. "I don't know what to say... this is— this—"

He's suddenly too overcome with emotion to speak, gripping the picture frame so tightly it looks like it might snap.

"You could say thank you, for starters."

They laugh.

"Thank you. Really. I mean it."

"Yeah, you're welcome."

James throws an arm around Sirius's shoulders and squeezes them tightly.

Suddenly, Severus Snape sits casually down next to him. Sirius half leaps out of his seat, wand already out— but Avery appears, grabbing Snape by the arm and pulling him away. Snape allows himself to be led, looking for all the world like a little lost lamb.

"For fuck's sake, Snape, what are you doing?" They hear Avery snap at him.

James and Sirius stare after them as they move away, and Peter and Remus exchange a glance.

"What was all that about?" Says James.

"He—"

Remus interrupts Peter quickly. "Don't know."

They look at each other, and James and Sirius frown at them.

"It's Snape, isn't it?" Remus amends. "He's always doing odd things."

"Remus is right," says Sirius with a shrug. "Who are we to try to understand the myriad workings of Snivellus's extremely complex mind."

"Right," agrees James. "Oh! Speaking of myriad workings, look at this."

He sets a little tin of mints on the table.

"Mints?" Asks Peter.

"Bit less tasty. Mandrake leaves."

He opens it up, displaying three dried Mandrake leaves.

Sirius peers at them in disgust. "Oh, bollocks, do we have to start that whole thing again? The taste didn't leave my mouth for weeks.

"Afraid so. The final transformation requires you to hold it in your mouth for a whole month. You remember the sticking charm, right Peter? Just stick it to the roof of your mouth and try not to lick it."

"Yeah, I remember."

"And the incantation?"

"I've still got it written down somewhere."

"In any case we ought to do it together every night," says James. "Before Cresswell comes in so he doesn't think we're nutters like last time."

They laugh, remembering it. Remus, however, does not laugh. He is very determinedly looking down at his lunch.

James sees. "I think I know where we went wrong last time, with the algorithm. I've had a breakthrough, seems like paying attention in class is worthwhile sometimes."

"Right." Remus chews his lip.

"What's wrong, Remus?" Asks Peter.

"Nothing's wrong. It's just... I don't know. What if it goes wrong again? What if it goes worse this time?"

James smiles at him. "Don't worry, Remus. Nothing's going to go wrong. Wait and see, full moon after next is going to be the best you've ever had."

"I doubt there's much competition," Sirius points out.

They laugh, and even Remus joins in this time.

"You'll see," says James, confidently.


A line of students— Mulciber, Rosier, Avery, Snape, Dirk, James, Sirius, and Mary are standing against the wall of the trophy room.

Argus Filch, the grizzled old custodian, is pacing in front of them with barely contained glee. Mrs. Norris purrs from within his arms.

"Got something special for you miscreants tonight. Yes, tonight you'll have the pleasure of polishing the trophy room."

No reaction.

Filch grins wickedly. "By hand."

They all groan. Filch cackles, tosses a cloth sack at their feet.

"And we'll know if you use magic. Polish and dust from top to bottom. If I see a speck or a spot left when I come 'round to inspect, you'll wish you'd never been born. You never know, Dumbledore might let me have the old thumbscrews out..."

Grinning maniacally, he retreats out of the door— the last they see of him is Mrs. Norris's lamplike eyes glowing through the darkness.

The students are left alone, with all the different seething tensions that rest between them bubbling close to the surface.

They grab rags from the sack without talking to each other and start to work, by this time used to having detention together and preferring to ignore one another.

Mary reaches for a rag— Mulciber reaches for the same one, and their hands meet. She stiffens, and he smiles up at her but says nothing.

"He keeps looking over at us," hisses James, nodding towards Severus across the room.

"First lunch and now this. What is his problem?" Says Sirius in a low voice as he shines an ancient trophy.

"He's completely obsessed with the idea that we're up to something and that he's going to find out what it is. You should have heard him going on this morning."

Sirius frowns"We are up to something, though, aren't we? You don't think he's close to figuring anything out? About Remus?"

"What? No. Snape is all talk. He's got no proof of anything other than he hates us and has never heard of shampoo."

Sirius laughs loudly.

At the sound of his laughter, Severus looks over, scowling.

"You think it was them who confunded you?" Says Avery, following his gaze.

"I know it was. I was with their friend Remus Lupin just before it happened, so it has to be. Look at them, they know it and they're laughing."

Mulciber leans over with interest. "You were confunded?"

Avery snorts. "Yeah, he's been running bloody rings around me all day. Made a right fool of himself at lunch."

Rosier finds the idea amusing and laughs. Severus gives him a dirty look.

"You'd've seen it yourself if you'd been there," says Avery pointedly. "Where were you anyway, we haven't seen you all day. I asked the other sixth years and they said neither of you have been in classes…"

"We were doing this and that," replies Mulciber, vaguely.

He looks over at Mary MacDonald, who looks away and returns to polishing.

"Look at those mudbloods," Rosier says. "They have no idea what's coming, do they?"

"No. And neither have I, or any of us apart from you two," snaps Avery. "You're always going on about this great bloody thing that's going to happen— but when do Snape and I get to be part of it? We fought, didn't we?"

Mulciber regards him, seeing the sense in his question. "You're right, Preston. I'm sorry we can't say much yet. Soon enough it'll be you two in our shoes, but until then the matter is somewhat... delicate. But maybe—"

He looks at Rosier, who shrugs.

"Yes, maybe it's time Evan and I gave you some lessons. Strictly extracurricular, mind, they won't teach you this stuff in any of your classes."

"So obviously, don't go around using it where everyone can see you. Not unless you really need to." Rosier says.

Mulciber nods mysteriously.

"Yeah, alright. When do we start?" Avery asks.

"We'll start tomorrow morning if you like. You might have to miss your first class."

Avery looks at Severus. "What do you say, Snape, isn't this what you've wanted?"

"Yeah, it is." Sev replies quietly.

"He's still a little confunded, poor chap." Snickers Avery.

Mulciber looks at him, sympathetic. "Well don't worry, Severus. After we're done nobody will be able to make a fool of you again. Nobody will be able to touch you."

This resonates with Severus. He looks up at Potter and Black. Potter sticks two fingers up at him.

"Yeah, I do need help with one of my new spells actually..." Severus says pensively.

Mary is polishing a trophy with too much focus, as if it's the only thing that exists in the world.

"Mary? You alright?" Says Cresswell.

She shakes out of it. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Thanks."

"Alright, well you've been polishing that same one for ten minutes now. I think it's time to move on, don't you."

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry."

She puts it back and grabs another one from the case. Her gaze flicks over inadvertently to the Slytherins— only for a second, but it's enough.

Mulciber drops his rag and stalks over to them.

"MacDonald!"

She freezes, staring up at him. The others pause in their cleaning to watch, tensely.

"What?" She tries for aggressive, but it falls short.

"I have a question for you," Mulciber says.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Will you come to Hogsmeade with me?"

There's a moment of shocked silence, then he starts laughing at her. All the Slytherins join in, even Snape.

Mary tries hard not to react, goes back to her polishing.

"I've got a question for you too, Mulciber." Sirius says loudly across the room.

"You have, have you, Black?

"Now why would a pretty, sane girl like Mary ever dream of going to Hogsmeade with a misshapen gorilla like you?"

Mulciber's eyes narrow. "Careful, Black."

"Maybe Snivellus ought to try his luck too," James says, and Severus twitches. "He has rather a thing for girls that are far above his level, doesn't he?"

Sev grits his teeth, saying nothing.

"Severus is a wizard of magical parentage," says Mulciber. "That puts any mudbloods— yes, even the famous Miss Evans— below his level. And mine."

James tosses his rag down angrily, starting forward. "You're revolting. Say that word one more time—"

Mary interrupts him. "Just leave it, Potter. It'll only make it worse, and I don't fancy spending even more time locked up in detention with them, do you?"

"No," supplies Cresswell helpfully.

James glares at Mulciber, then at Snape. "No. But this isn't over."

"You're right. It's far from over." Mulciber says, but he returns to his friends without another word.

"Don't pay him any mind, Mary. You're worth ten of him, any day." Says Cresswell.

She smiles at him. "Thanks, Dirk. You're always so kind to me."

"Yeah, well, I—"

Whatever he's going to say, he thinks better of it.

"Look, if that ape, or any of them, is giving you any trouble- you tell someone. Me, Potter and Black, a teacher, I don't care. Someone. You don't have to deal with this on your own."

"I— thanks. I think I'm alright though, that was the first I'd heard from any of them since the protest." Mary says. She doesn't want to worry Cresswell, or any of the others by telling them about Mulciber's threat.

Cresswell nods.

"Alright. Well we're all behind you, Mary, all of us."

Mary takes this gratefully, trying to put Mulciber out of her mind.


Gerhard Richter, their burly German Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, paces back and forth before the fifth-years with his hands clasped behind his back.

"And what are the three unforgivable curses?

"The Killing curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Imperius curse." Says Wilkes at once.

Richter comes to stand by his desk. "Yes, yes, indeed, and which of these curses is the worst? The most evil?"

"Cruciatus, sir." Offers Severus.

Richer shoots him an irritated look, moustache bristling. "I'm asking this boy with the funny eyebrows,"

Wilkes looks offended for a second, but recovers quickly. "The killing curse, sir. You can't come back from that."

"That's true, Eyebrow Boy, but can you come back from the trauma of the Cruciatus curse? Some people never do."

Severus looks at him smugly, until:

"However, neither of those was the answer I wanted. The Imperius Curse."

Richter scrawls this on the board, underlining it twice.

"Nothing is as destructive or as dangerous as having total and complete control of another wizard or witch's mind. The scope of it can be unimaginable."

The students ponder this in silence.

"That's why it's paramount for a wizard or witch who wishes to defend themselves to learn how to retain control of their mind when such a curse is cast. This is a feat which requires incredible mental fortitude, and most are not capable of resisting. With some effort, of course, the mind can be trained."

He sets a cauldron full of a light blue potion on the table in front of him, and a crate filled with lots of little clear shot glasses.

"Since it would be deeply imprudent," Richter says, surveying them critically. "Not to mention illegal, to actually cast the curse on students, we will approximate the effects. Professor Slughorn has kindly agreed to brew for us a batch of Compulsion Concoction- as the German resistance, the Widerstand, used when training to fight Grindelwald himself. Unlike the Imperius Curse, the Concoction only causes any suggestions made to the drinker to seem like really good ideas that must be followed through. It is much less potent, yet still highly restricted. For good reason. Now please choose a partner. Someone you know and trust."

There's a scramble as students reorganise into pairs. Richter ladles out potion into the shot glasses and arranging them on the table.

Lily looks over at Sev eagerly, but he shakes his head and indicates that he's with Avery. She frowns, disappointed, and turns back to her friends, but they've paired up already.

Cresswell approaches their table.

"Fancy pairing up, Mary?"

"Oh, sorry Dirk. I'm already with Marlene." She says apologetically.

He takes this well, nodding.

"Why don't you and Lily pair up?" Suggests Marlene.

Cresswell and Lily look at each other and smile a little awkwardly.

"Alright, why not?" Says Lily.

He sits down next to her.

"Are you all paired up?" Says Richter. "Alright then, now I want one from each group to come up here- in orderly fashion- and take two glasses back to your table. Don't do anything with them until I say."

Marlene and Lily go up to form part of the queue.

"Poor Cresswell," sighs Marlene. "He fancies Mary something awful."

"Does he?" Lily says with a frown.

She takes a look back at the table, where Cresswell has managed to get a smile out of Mary and is looking pleased with himself.

"I had no idea."

Marlene rolls her eyes. "That's because you're not very perceptive, Lily."

She takes her shot glasses and goes back to the table, and Severus comes up behind Lily in the queue.

"Hi," he says.

"Oh, hi." Her response is a little colder than usual.

He looks contrite. "Sorry, it's just- Avery really wanted to be partners."

"Oh, that's alright. I wasn't bothered by it, honest." She says with a smile.

She's clearly lying, but Severus nods. They both take their shot glasses and look at each other.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" He says hopefully.

"'Course."

As they walk back James passes and purposely knocks into Severus, who spills the content of his glasses onto himself.

"Ooops," drawls Potter. "Ever so sorry."

Severus goggles at his robes, which are stained light blue. "You did that on purpose!"

"No, I really am this clumsy."

Lily glares at him. "Shove off, Potter. Here Sev, take mine. I'll go and get more."

She goes and leaves a steaming Severus and an amused James to regard each other.

"Anyone ever told you you ought to relax?" Says James, and he goes back to his table without another word.

Richter claps his hands to draw their attention. "Once you're ready, take the potion. It's a small dosage so it should only last half an hour or so, during which you should take turns instructing one another to do things, and trying your best to resist these commands. Please, for the love of Lutzelfrau, be responsible. Your partner is entrusting you with their well-being."

Lily sets her glasses down and takes her seat again.

"Alright, here we are," she says. "Sorry it took so long."

"No trouble.

Lily sighs, looking over at the Marauders' table. "Potter is so nasty to poor Sev, sometimes I—"

"Deserves it if you ask me."

There's no lightheartedness in Mary's voice, just a hard, matter-of-fact statement.

Lily stares at her. "Excuse me?

"You heard me," says Mary icily. "Your poor Sev deserves all he gets from Potter and worse."

"Mary, come on..." Marlene says.

"Got to admit, I've never really understood why you and him are mates." Says Cresswell.

Lily looks at him, distressed. "He's a good person, he just—"

Mary laughs humourlessly. "Good person my arse. Lily, he's a fucking horrible person and it's time you woke up and realised it like the rest of us have. I'm tired of tiptoeing around it."

Lily is taken aback, hurt by the harshness of her words. "I hardly think that's fair. You don't know him as well as I do."

"And thank Christ for that," Mary says.

Marlene tries to intercede. "Oh, leave it out, Mary, can't you—"

"No, I bloody well won't— you know what, why don't you and Lily pair up since you're both so in love with precious Snivellus, and me and Dirk will go somewhere else. Come on Dirk, let's go."

She stands up and stalks to a different table. Cresswell shrugs apologetically, takes two of the shot glasses, and follows her. Marlene and Lily are left, shellshocked.

"Is she alright? Does she seem alright to you?" Lily says, wide-eyed.

"No... she hasn't for a while, has she?" Says Marlene worriedly. "Ever since the protest... oh Lily, what if something's really wrong, and we've had no idea?"

"We'll talk to her later, as soon as she's calmed down."

Marlene nods, looking worried.

At the Marauders' table, Peter is holding up his shot glass, eyeing it warily.

"I don't know about this," he says.

"Come on, I won't make you do anything too embarrassing." Says Sirius with a wicked glimmer in his eye that says the exact opposite.

"Well that's reassuring. What does it feel like, I wonder?"

"I think it's sort of like being confunded," James says thoughtfully. "Remus, you ready?

Remus nods, and takes the shot.

"Well?" Prompts Peter.

Remus shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't feel anything. I'm not sure it worked."

"Stand up," says James.

Remus stands up immediately.

Remus looks down at himself, bewildered. "I... uh..."

Sirius looks at him too, gleeful. "This is wicked. Peter, hurry up and drink already."

"Alright, here goes."

He closes his eyes and downs the shot.

"Peter, say 'I'm a stupid ugly wanker and I'm lucky to have such a cool and handsome friend like Sirius.'"

"I'm a stupid ugly wanker and I'm lucky to have such a cool and handsome friend like Sirius." Repeats Peter obediently.

James and Sirius laugh.

At the Slytherin table, Avery and Severus have paired up.

"There's no way I'm doing this," Nicola says. She's working with Shea, as usual.

"Come on Selwyn," says Avery. "What'll happen if someone tries to Imperiuse you? You'll be helpless."

"I don't care. I don't have to do it if I don't want to."

Shea shrugs, and ducks down under the table to spill their two shots onto the classroom floor.

Avery rolls his eyes. "Ah, you're no fun, the pair of you. Come on then, Snape. Drink up."

Severus eyes the shot with trepidation, then drinks it.

"Is it working?"

"I... I don't know."

"Stick your tongue out," Avery commands.

Severus sticks his tongue out.

"Brilliant. Now stand up."

Severus stands up.

"Alright. Now go over to Evans's table and tell her that she's a dirty little mudblood whore and how much you want to fuck her."

He grins widely.

"Fucking hell, Avery." Says Shea.

Severus, blankly, walks towards Lily's table as Avery laughs behind him. When he reaches her he stops, and Lily looks up at him. Marlene is singing the Hogwarts school song in a funny accent.

"Marlene, stop singing." Says Lily.

She stops, and they both wait for him to speak.

He looks like he's going to say something, but then closes his mouth, face contorting wildly as he concentrates with everything he's got on fighting off the effects of the potion.

"No... I... don't... want to do that. No. No, no, I don't WANT TO!"

The last words are shouted, and everyone who's still in their right mind looks over in shock.

Richter hurries over.

"Yes, yes! This is what I mean! Here, this young man has demonstrated perfectly that he has sufficient willpower to resist the Concoction! Of course, the Imperius curse is much stronger, but it's a start, boy, a good start. Tell me, have you ever heard of Occlumency—"

Severus, still bewitched, tells him: "I've heard of it."

"...Right, yes, well I think you may be a very good candidate for the subject after you pass your OWLs! Very good indeed! Five points to Slytherin. Return to your seat, please."

Severus does this obediently.

James looks over sourly. "Pompous wanker. I bet I can do it too."

"I wonder what Avery told him to say to Lily," muses Remus.

"Whatever it was, he really, really didn't want to say it." Says Sirius.

Peter is looking at Snape, lost in thought.

"Do tell us what you're thinking, Pete." Says James.

He's a little distracted as Dorcas skips by, and they exchange smiles.

"I was just thinking about yesterday when Snape attacked Remus in the halls," blurts out Peter. Immediately, he realises what he's inadvertently said thanks to the spell, and he claps his hand to his mouth. Sirius and James stare at him and Remus's head falls into his hands.

"What? What are you talking about? Remus, what's he talking about? Tell us!"

Remus sighs, resigned to obeying. "He's talking about when Snape attacked me yesterday in the halls and was going to curse me, but Peter came and confunded him. That's why Snape was in such a state yesterday."

James and Sirius process this, gaping.

"That little slimeball is dead," hisses Sirius, slamming his fist on the table. "He's dead. I'll kill him myself."

"You'll have to kill his dead body after I'm through with him," says James grimly.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you, because I knew you'd overreact." Remus says.

"We're hardly overreacting," snaps Sirius.

James nods. "He needs to understand that messing with one of us means messing with all of us. He—"

He's interrupted by Richter's shout: "You there, on the table, STOP!

They look over— Avery is standing on the table and has frozen in the middle of a striptease. There's raucous laughter from around the classroom. Snape is looking at him with a vengeful satisfaction, arms folded over his chest.

Richter looms over them, moustache bristling with anger. "This is exactly what I wanted to avoid when I told you to be responsible. I don't know which one of you told him to do this, but Slytherin has just lost itself the five points it won just a minute ago. Get down from there, boy, and put your shirt back on."

Avery obeys.

"I just don't want this to get out of hand," says Remus worriedly.

"It's already out of hand, Remus." James says. "One way or another, Snape will pay."

He downs his shot dramatically for emphasis.

An hour later, the bell rings and the fifth years come streaming out of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, all excitedly discussing the class.

Severus avoids Lily's eyes as he exits the classroom with his friends, too embarrassed by the thought of what he almost said to her. Avery, he thinks, went too far. Even as he's just entertaining thoughts of revenge, he spots Potter and Black with their heads together, whispering urgently just outside the classroom. Severus sidles closer to listen in.

"Sirius, we need to get up to that unused classroom on the fourth floor," Potter is saying. "It's urgent, it's about you-know-what."

"Right," says Black, looking around warily. "Our… secret project. Let's go then."

They hurry away, and Severus starts after them, but Avery grabs his arm.

"No hard feelings, eh, Snape? We both had a laugh, didn't we?"

Severus cranes his neck so as to not lose sight of Potter and Black. "No, no hard feelings." He says impatiently, shaking him off. "Listen, I'll meet you in the Great Hall later, I've got something I have to do.

Avery frowns as Severus takes off, following Potter and Black at a safe distance, fighting through the crowd of students. Someone treads on his toe— he looks around, distracted— and when he turns back, they've vanished.

"Fuck!" Severus swears loudly, startling a few first years. They scurry away from him, terrified.

Severus heads for the Grand Staircase— he needs to get up to the fourth floor, and he has no time to lose. Potter and Black could be gone by the time he gets there.

He barrels up a flight of stairs, unheeding of the students knocked aside and the cries of "Oi, watch it!" he leaves behind.

As far as he knows, there's only two unused classrooms on the fourth floor. The first is open, but there's no sign of Potter or Black. He hurries down a passageway to the second, which is locked— he whips out his wand—

"Alohomora!"

The lock clicks and he slams the door open with all his might—

"Incredible. You actually are as thick as you look." Potter leaps off a desk in the corner of the classroom.

Black is standing by the door, and he flicks a cigarette onto the ground in front of Severus.

"What— I dont—"

He scans the room, looking for whatever it was that Potter and Black were doing— and then, it dawns on him. He's been led into a trap. He tries to back away, but Black grabs him by the front of his blue-stained school robes and hurls him into the classroom.

"Oh no you don't." He says.

"Expelliarmus!" Cries Potter.

Snape's wand flies out of his hand, and Potter catches it, twirling it between his fingers.

"Really brave of you, disarming me like that. Can't face me, even if it's two against one?" Spits Severus.

Potter shrugs. "Snivellus, we've got no interest in facing you. We just want to you to get it through your ugly head what'll happen if you ever mess with one of ours. That is, total humiliation."

"You really thought we were going to let you get away with what you did to Remus? Just like that?"

Severus says nothing, stares hatefully at them. He knows he's in for a world of pain.

James moves forward, wand pointed at him. "Listen closely, you repulsive, interfering, evil little slimeball. There is no plan. We're not up to anything. There's nothing for you to figure out, except that I'm ten times the man you are, ten times the wizard. And Evans is going to see that, just like everyone else already does."

Sirius casts him a confused look at the mention of Lily.

"She can't even stand the sight of you!"

James grows stormy, and flicks his wand mercilessly downwards.

Sev's head is pulled down to the ground as his legs are pulled upwards into the air, and he starts to spin in place in furious circles like a top.

Potter walks casually past him to shut the door, then releases the spell.

Severus flops over, pushes himself up onto his hands and knees.

"Time for a shower, Snivellus. Diluvia."

A dark grey little stormcloud coalesces in the air above Sev, and then dumps out a torrent of water onto his head. He splutters, completely drenched, and pushes sodden strands of hair out of his face

"Look at me. Look at me."

Severus does, defiantly.

Black looks down at him. "You never lay a wand on any of our friends again, you hear me? Or it'll be much worse than this. Much worse than you can imagine."

"It'll be worse for you," spits Severus. Every curse he knows is running through his head, but without his wand they're useless.

"Yeah, yeah."

Black gives Severus a vicious kick in the face— he goes sprawling, blood gushing from his nose.

Potter steps over Severus as he crosses to the window and opens it, and throws Sev's wand out.

"Hmm... looks like it landed in some thorn bushes down there." He says. "Shouldn't be too tricky to dig it out though. Bit painful, maybe."

He and Black laugh at their own brilliance, heading to the door. Severus starts to struggle upright again and Potter shoves him down one last time for good measure.


Lily and Marlene are walking along the castle wall back from the greenhouses, talking.

"I'm starting to get really worried about Mary." Marlene is saying. "It's not like her to miss herbology, she likes that class."

Lily frets. "Dirk said she just ran off without saying where she was going. Maybe she went to the common room..."

She stops as they see Nicola Selwyn sitting on a broken stone pillar nearby, smoking a cigarette. She eyes Marlene coolly as they pass.

Marlene stops suddenly. "Why don't you go ahead and look for her? I… have to go to the owlery. Send a letter to my mum."

Lily nods. "Alright. See you later then."

Marlene hurries back the way they came, and Lily continues, looking down at the dusty path—

There's a trail of dark spots leading across it, clearly red against the light chalky stone. It looks suspiciously like blood, thinks Lily with an unpleasant lurch in her stomach.

Lily hesitates, then follows the trail around a bend in the castle wall, coming across a ditch filled with thorny bushes...

And she sees Sev is gingerly poking through them, as though looking for something.

"Sev, is that you? What are you doing?"

Severus turns, and Lily sees with a jolt of horrified shock that his face is an absolute mess. His nose seems to be broken, and dried blood is caked all down his mouth, chin, and neck.

"Holy Christ," She hurries forward to him. "What happened? Sev, what's happened?"

He looks impossibly miserable. "Oh. Lily. Just go away, will you?"

"Not until you tell me what's happened," she says, inspecting his nose.

"What do you think?" He says, venomously.

She bites her lip. "It wasn't Potter, was it?

"Would that be so surprising?"

"No, it's just—"

He interrupts her bitterly. "My face was Black's handiwork, actually. Potter chucked my wand in here somewhere, so I've been looking for it."

Lily closes her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Sev. Here, I'll help you look."

She climbs down into the ditch and starts peering into the thicket.

"Blimey, can't see anything in this lot."

"Well you've still got a wand, haven't you?" He says, pointedly.

"Oh, right. Silly me. Accio Sev's wand!"

It flies from the depths of the bushes into her hand, and she gives it to him. He turns it over in his hand, thinking.

"Want me to walk you to the hospital wing?" She says sympathetically.

He stares at the ground. "No... no thanks, Lily. I'd just like to be alone now, if you don't mind. I've got detention in a minute, anyway."

"Well, if you're sure you'll be alr— oops."

She stumbles a little, and a small and ridiculously adorable albino is startled from the bushes and out onto the lawn where it sits, nose twitching.

"Oh, look!" Lily coos. "The poor dear must've escaped from the transfiguration classroom, mustn't it. How precious."

Severus doesn't seem too impressed. "S'pose so."

Lily sighs. "Well, I'll see you later, Sev. Take care, alright? And don't let James Potter get to you."

"I will. I mean, I won't."

She climbs back up the embankment and leaves, with one sorrowful look back. He stays there, turning things over in his mind, then climbs after her and points his wand at the rabbit.

"Sectumsempra."

A dozen crimson gashes raze the rabbit's body, oozing bright red blood onto its white fur. It squeaks pitifully and dies, almost instantly.

Severus stares down at it for a moment, then heads for the castle.