PART ONE: IN VITAM
Chapter IX: Ace of Pentacles Upright
A brief period in Divination class wasn't nearly enough time to learn what I needed to about Marlene. I thought that Rosier would dole out information piece by piece in each class to keep me on the hook. However, as class was ending, Rosier suggested that we should meet on the seventh floor at six on Wednesday.
Surprise caused me to agree without thinking.
It wasn't until I was halfway down the moving staircases that I realized I'd just promised to meet Evan fucking Rosier outside of Divination class. Alone.
Panic welled in my throat as I imagined all the hexes and jinxes Rosier could throw at me outside of the public eye. I imagined him practicing the Cruciatus Curse, hoping to torture the truth out of me. Though, of course, when I thought about it, if Rosier wanted to hex me, he didn't need to lure me to the seventh floor to do so. In fact, if he planned to torture me, he would've done it last weekend when I'd been trapped in his Body-Bind Curse.
As my overwhelming fear of Rosier subsided, it was swiftly replaced by the image of Lily or Dorcas stumbling into an empty classroom only to find their good friend Marlene alone with a future Death Eater. What would they think? Was it possible I could lie and say we were studying for the Divination NEWT? Did people need to study for the Divination NEWT?
When he'd interrogated me before, he'd put some sort of warding spells on the door. Likely, he'd cast those same spells again. Being discovered alone with me would be as disastrous for him as it would be for me. Caution would go both ways.
Besides, he was going to tell me more about Marlene's life. I'd found someone who would answer my questions. Someone who could help me deceive Marlene's friends. I didn't have the luxury of being picky. I needed what Rosier offered.
So, after a long day of classes on Wednesday, I made my way up to the seventh floor, following the instructions Rosier had given me.
Take a right at the end of the hall… Past Professor Chen's office… You'll see a door with an old-fashioned handle…
I stopped in my tracks when I saw the little wooden door with a brass handle.
I remembered this place. This was the broom closet where Rosier had trapped me for twelve hours in a Body-Bind Curse.
Fuck this knobdobber. I had better things to do with my time.
I took a step back, preparing to leave, when a deep voice came from behind me, traces of the polished accent on every word.
"Bring back memories?"
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the heavy-lidded eyes, straight nose, and perfectly combed hair of Evan Rosier.
"You couldn't choose an empty classroom?" I asked.
"Classrooms are harder to hide," said Rosier, coming to stand beside me. "If you cast a warding spell in a school of wizards and witches, someone is bound to notice. Students walk by empty classrooms all the time or use them for homework. All it takes is one person to notice the spell, and our private conversation is suddenly public knowledge. Neither of us wants that. A broom cupboard is small and forgotten. No one comes here except Filch."
"And students who want a quick shag," I said.
Rosier grinned. "There are too many professors on this floor. The sixth and fifth floor broom closets are the most popular shag choices."
I eyed the wooden door warily. I wouldn't put it past Rosier to put another Body-Bind on me as soon as I stepped into the damned cupboard.
"Someone better with warding spells could probably charm a classroom to so that not even the professors could tell," said Rosier. "But that's not my area of expertise. So, your favorite broom closet will have to do. Unless you've become an expert in warding spells overnight, of course." He shot me a knowing look.
I gritted my teeth. "The broom closet is fine."
Rosier flicked his wand, and I felt a brush of cool air across my legs. I looked over my shoulder at the empty corridor. The candles flickered slightly in a soft breeze. When I turned back to Rosier, he had his head tilted slightly, as if listening for something.
"All clear," he said at last. He opened the door of the broom closet. In mockery of a gentleman, he stepped back, holding out a hand to allow me through first.
I threw him a look of disgust.
The broom closet had the same crates as last time and the same six brooms with a thin layer of dust on their handles. Only the two chairs were absent. Rosier shut the door behind him, and I jumped a little at the click of the lock. He glanced at me, but said nothing as he started casting nonverbal spells on the door.
Colloportus, the Locking Spell. In my head, I ran through the enchantments I'd use to protect the door. Tutelementi, the Obscuring Spell. Cavefacium, the Warning Spell. Muffliato—this would muffle conversation to any eavesdroppers. This was a Half-Blood Prince spell I remembered from the books. Of course, Rosier was friends with Snape, so Snape had likely taught him the spell.
It seemed Rosier knew far more warding spells than I did. He cast eight or nine on the door, layering them on top of each other in an intricate web, before he lowered his wand and turned to face me.
We both had our heads stooped under the low, slanted ceiling of the broom closet. He pointed his wand at a spot on the floor. Immediately, the air started to wriggle. Something solid appeared, shrinking in some places and expanding in others. I watched, my jaw tight, a wooden chair appeared, identical to the one I'd sat in for hours trapped in a Body-Bind Curse. Rosier noticed my expression, and he offered me a smug smile as he sat down in the newly transfigured chair.
"You're welcome to conjure your own chair," he said, "if you don't like mine."
"I'm fine." I dropped my bookbag on the floor and leaned against one of the crates, using its hard edge as a makeshift seat. It wasn't comfortable, but at least my head was no longer bumping against the ceiling.
"You can just say you don't know how to conjure a chair," said Rosier. He pointed his wand at the floor in front of me and said, "Sellaparte," aloud for my benefit. From thin air, there materialized an identical chair.
"I'm fine," I said again. I'd be damned if I sat in that chair for another minute.
"So, what do you want to know about yourself, Marlene?" asked Rosier. He leaned back in his seat, casual and comfortable.
I hated him.
"I want to know about school," I said. "What happened last year?"
"Gryffindor won the House Cup," said Rosier.
"I know that." I'd stumbled across the Trophy Room last Thursday and had spent the half hour before dinner trying to memorize the House and Quidditch Cup winners each year.
"Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup," continued Rosier, ignoring me. "Rumor in the Slytherin common room is that Potter tried to drown himself in the showers after. Let me know if you find out the truth. The Gobstones Team lost to Beauxbatons in the European Tournament. Johnson swears they cheated. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Professor Gibbons. He left the post to go into hiding after Death Eaters broke into his house. No word on him since. Oh, and I was Duel Champion for the fourth year in a row." He sent me a triumphant smile at the last.
"Johnson?"
"Lucille Johnson. Ravenclaw seventh year. Tall, blonde, wears glasses. She's in Divination class with us, Marlene. She's partners with Joanna Stebbins."
I winced.
"Don't worry. I already know you know nothing," said Rosier. He nodded towards the empty chair. "And you're learning magic from scratch. I would've sworn you were a muggle if I hadn't seen you enlarge Macdonald's ears in Transfiguration that first day."
I laughed so Rosier wouldn't know how close to the truth he actually was.
"I can start from the beginning," said Rosier abruptly. "You want to know the overview of what happened each year, right?"
It felt odd, admitting that I knew nothing to Rosier. Technically, I'd already asked for his help, and he'd told me a lot about Marlene while reading the tarot cards. But it made me uneasy to sit in this cramped broom closet, look him in the eyes, and admit that I knew nothing about the previous seventeen years of my life.
"I can't betray you," said Rosier.
My eyes narrowed. No doubt he'd read the hesitation in my face.
"If you get caught, then you can rat me out," said Rosier.
"Because I know your da's a Death Eater?" I folded my arms across my chest.
"He's not," said Rosier with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but I'd rather you not throw accusations around. Being associated with You-Know-Who in these dark times is an easy way to end up in Azkaban."
I decided not to say that anyone who tortured and murdered muggleborns deserved to be in Azkaban.
"But like I said," continued Rosier, "if you got caught, then you could rat me out. So, I'm very invested in your secret being kept. Unless, of course, I get caught. In which case, I will rat you out. I suppose it's advisable that you help me as well."
I didn't say it aloud, but I understood that this agreement only lasted while we were in school. Once we left school, nothing stopped him from telling his Death Eater friends that I wasn't really Marlene McKinnon. But what would that matter to me? I planned to be on the opposite side. Perhaps there was a risk they could try to expose me, but who would take the word of the Death Eaters over mine? Still, there were Death Eaters in hiding everywhere. Who knew what harm could be done if my secret ended up in the wrong hands? There were risks, so many risks, but now wasn't the time to worry about those far-off future consequences. Right now, I needed to convince everyone that I was Marlene McKinnon. And this annoying future Death Eater in front of me was the only person who knew enough to help me.
"All right," I said, unfolding my arms. "Start from the beginning."
Rosier gave me a small smile, so slight that I might have missed it if I blinked. Then, in his usual even voice, he said, "First year, Ravenclaw won the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup. Our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Professor Steward, a lovely lady who was terrified of the very subject. You, Evans, and Edythe got into a fight over something stupid, and Edythe swore she'd make your lives miserable. Slughorn invited Evans to join his club even though she was just a first year. Everyone made a big deal of it. The Duel Champion that year is irrelevant."
"What was the fight with Dovetail about?" I asked.
"I don't remember," said Rosier. "I can try to find out for you if you think it'd be important to Marlene. I doubt Edythe even remembers. She's the type to swear revenge and then forget about it a week later."
I opened and closed my mouth, surprised that Rosier would actually put that much effort into this. Finally, I said, "Forget it."
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Second year, Slytherin won the House Cup and Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup. The Dark Arts professor was Professor Bletchley, who had to leave before the final exam due to a terrible case of spattergroit. Potter and Severus' dislike for each other really began this year, I believe. I forget who started it. Severus might have hexed Potter first, or Potter made fun of Severus' hair. Who knows. The truth is long forgotten at this point. The rest of us got dragged into it when Black cast a Bat-Boogey Hex on Edythe." The corners of Rosier's mouth tugged down at the memory, but then, with a glint in his eyes, he added, "The Duel Champion is still irrelevant."
I bit the insides of my cheeks as I tried to memorize everything he said. My memory didn't need to be flawless. Marlene probably didn't recall things that happened five years ago with perfect clarity. Still, I needed to remember enough.
"Do you need to take notes?" asked Rosier.
"No." I couldn't afford to leave behind a paper trail. Even if I could enchant the parchment so that no one but me could read the words, it would only take a more talented witch or wizard, like Dumbledore or any of the professors, to undo the spell. I'd even burned the letter Marlene had written me after I'd read it wearing the diadem.
Rosier watched me for a moment and the nodded his head as if he understood my thoughts. "In third year—"
"Ravenclaw won the House Cup," I said, injecting some frustration into my voice.
A wry smile flashed across Rosier's face, but he only said, "And Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup again. Professor Borowitz left for a higher-paying Dark Arts job at Durmstrang after that year. Sometime in the fall, Potter publicly declared in the corridor outside Transfiguration class that he was in love with Evans. Evans promptly called him a… "pigheaded toerag" I think it was. She was friends with Severus back then, so of course she would reject Potter. This was the year you started as Chaser on the Hufflepuff team. You cried when you lost to Slytherin in the final game. Also, the first year I became Duel Champion. I beat the previous title holder with a Disarming Spell timed in the gap between his Shield Charm and his counter-spell." Rosier's mouth flickered upward into a half-smile at the memory.
"I know you're Duel Champion for the next three years," I muttered. "You don't have to add that detail in every time."
Rosier laughed, but he continued to tell me how he won in various ways in his summary of each year. Bat-Boogey Hex to the face. Knocked opponent off the platform with a Blasting Curse. Levicorpus when she was distracted by a Stunning Spell. There was almost a childlike, gleeful energy in him as he recounted each one. I found it jarring, in a way, to see him like that. I had become accustomed to the devoid, emotionless look in his eyes.
However, detailed descriptions of Rosier's dueling wins weren't very important to me. I doubted the real Marlene would remember such things. Instead, I focused on the facts. It seemed Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had the strongest two Quidditch teams for the past few years, though Rosier claimed Slytherin shouldn't be underestimated. The curse of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position continued as Rosier described professor after professor leaving the post. I tried to memorize their names and what details he gave about them.
Based on Rosier's words, the grudge between the Marauders and the future Death Eaters seemed to have grown worse each year. For most of the Slytherins, it seemed that they hated the Marauders on principle, a continuation of the Gryffindor-Slytherin feud. Avery, Goyle, and Proudfoot would throw the occasional hex in the Marauders direction, but mostly, their fighting was left to snide comments and sarcastic mocking. However, for Severus it appeared to be personal, and he would cast Stinging Hexes and other nasty curses at the Marauders backs.
Just because Slytherins largely left the Marauders alone, however, it didn't mean the other students were spared. Rosier reluctantly admitted to a couple instances involving his friends and muggleborns. One was in fifth year where Goyle performed a poorly cast Cruciatus Curse on another student. After a long meeting that involved his parents, the teachers had chalked it up the bad judgment of youth and only punished Goyle with four months of detention. The second incident took place in sixth year where Proudfoot and Wilkes cornered a first year muggleborn in the boys' bathroom on the second floor. Rosier didn't tell me the name of the curse his friends had used, but from the description of the deep slashes it sounded like sectumsempra.
"Snape was there as well, wasn't he?" I asked.
Rosier gave me a cool look.
"How'd he escape when the others didn't?"
"He wasn't there," said Rosier with a tone that left no room for discussion.
Proudfoot and Wilkes were, of course, not expelled. They'd been suspended for two weeks and then placed under strict probationary rules until the end of the year. My stomach curdled in disgust as I listened to these stories. Rosier only mentioned the times where the culprits had been caught. There had to be more incidents, I knew, but Rosier volunteered no information on them.
"What happened between Mary and Mulciber?" I asked.
Rosier's face remained impassive as he said, "In the beginning of fifth year, Mulciber tried to put an Imperius Curse on her. Except he cast it badly, and she ended up in the Hospital Wing for a fortnight."
"And no one tried to expel Mulciber?" I asked, unable to keep the disdain from my voice. I could picture Dumbledore staring across his desk at the teenage Mulciber. Instead of punishing Mulciber for his actions, Dumbledore would only mourn "the folly of youth." Mulciber had graduated from Hogwarts last year. No doubt he had immediately joined the Death Eaters and was now killing muggles in Voldemort's name.
"He cast a Confundus Charm on Macdonald after the spell failed," said Rosier. "I believe by the time her memories returned it was too late to blame Mulciber."
I stared at the empty wooden chair in front me, mulling this new information over in my mind. Why had Dumbledore and the rest of the professors decided to keep these students at the school? How many times could Dumbledore blame the poor judgment of teenagers before it became clear these students were headed down a dark path? Did Dumbledore truly believe he could save them by keeping them in Hogwarts and putting them on probation? Of course, expulsion likely meant leaving them to the influence of their families, and they would likely join the Death Eaters just that much sooner. But surely there was another way…a way to help them without leaving the muddleborn students vulnerable.
"It sounds like got worse after fifth year," I murmured, thinking over everything I'd learned in the past hour.
In a low voice, Rosier suddenly said, "In fifth year, Moira Edevane was killed over the winter holidays."
My head jerked up. "What?"
"Hasn't come up with your friends yet?" asked Rosier. Though he spoke with a mocking tone, there was no humor in his eyes. "Probably lucky for you. Anyone would get suspicious if you didn't remember Edevane."
In the background of Rosier's recaps, there had been bits and pieces about the war. The muggleborn professor who'd gone into hiding. Changes in school regulations after Harold Minchum became Minister for Magic. The Slytherin students getting increasingly aggressive as the years went on. The hints were there, floating around in the background, reminding me that outside the walls of Hogwarts castle loomed the ominous specter of war. But this was the first time Rosier had mentioned death, and the true horror came crashing down around us in the small, cramped broom closet.
"Edevane's father was muggleborn," said Rosier. "The Death Eaters raided their house on Christmas Eve, if I remember correctly. The entire family was killed."
Rosier spoke flatly and without emotion. I wanted to shake him, remind him that his people did this.
"She was in our year, in Ravenclaw," said Rosier. "She was my partner a couple times in Charms throughout the years. She and McKinnon were similar. In that they always try to see the best in people."
I opened my mouth to make a biting comment, remind him that he would one day walk in his da's footsteps and join these people who had killed his classmate. But the words died in my throat.
The silence stretched out between us. I tried to find the right words, the way to explain to Rosier that what the Death Eaters were wrong. Students shouldn't be murdered when they go home to visit their parents. Professors shouldn't have to go into hiding. A young woman shouldn't be so scared that she trades places with her dying doppelganger in the thin hope of saving her family. The world shouldn't be like this. Couldn't Rosier see that?
But I knew the choice Rosier would make. Even though we'd made this agreement and he'd promised to help me become Marlene, I knew he would choose the Death Eaters in the end. There would be no doubts in this man who would rather die than go to Azkaban.
At last, Rosier's voice cut through the broom closet. "Do you have anything else you want to know?"
I pushed the thoughts of war away. After adjusting my uncomfortable seat on the edge of the crate, I focused on the young man sitting in front of me.
There was so much. I wanted to know about Marlene's family, about Marlene's friends, about the past years of war, about the Hogwarts rumor mill… There was so much still to learn. But, in the end, I settled on one question I needed to ask.
"What happened in Hogsmeade last year?" I asked. Rosier looked at me curiously, and I got the feeling I'd said something wrong. However, it was too late to retreat. "I've heard people say it's the reason James became Head Boy."
"That, and Potter stopped hexing people for the sheer fun of it," scoffed Rosier. He watched me through shadowed eyes. Then, almost softly, he said, "I suppose that Hogsmeade trip was an awakening for most. For those who didn't feel Edevane's death deeply enough."
"What happened?"
"There was a Death Eater raid on Hogsmeade."
At that, a tension crept into the broom cupboard. My fingers curled against the edge of the crate.
"It was some time in the afternoon," said Rosier. His dark eyes met mine and refused to leave as he spoke. "I was in Dervish and Bangs with Edythe, while she had her cauldron repaired. I believe Marlene and her friends were in the Three Broomsticks. That's where most of the students were. It was early December. Snow already coated the ground. The attack started outside Honeydukes. The Dark Mark was cast into the sky while one of the Death Eaters used the Cruciatus Curse on a Hogsmeade resident. His screams filled the street. You could hear it from inside Dervish and Bangs."
Rosier spoke plainly with little inflections in his words, but at that last, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. If we hadn't been making eye contact, I wouldn't have noticed.
"Then, you could hear screams from all corners of the street. First to the right and then to the left. Two, three, four people. Figures in dark cloaks with bone-like masks across their faces appeared in doorways and between the buildings. Snowflakes fell while witches and wizards lay in the streets, screaming that they'd rather be dead."
My fingernails bit into the wood of the crate. I couldn't look away from Rosier's dark eyes. They had at first appeared empty and cold but something heavy stirred beneath the surface as he spoke.
"Two of the Death Eaters entered Dervish and Bangs," said Rosier. "They pointed their wands at Edythe and me, but when they saw our Slytherin robes, they stopped. The owner had fled the store the moment the first scream was heard. He didn't bother to save us. After the Death Eaters destroyed the store, they left without touching Edythe and me. We didn't dare risk the main street, of course. All it took was one unwitting Death Eater to curse us. We slipped out the back and escaped Dervish and Bangs using the side alleys."
I wanted to say something. A fire raged in my throat as I thought of those people screaming in agony as they were tortured in the streets, while Rosier could walk away unscathed.
You're one of them, I wanted to shout. You look sad when you talk about Edevane's death and the horrors in Hogsmeade, but you're one of them.
"We found the rest of the Hogwarts students," said Rosier. "There was an escape plan already in place: slip out the back doors, use the narrow side streets, and take portkeys back to Hogwarts. A decent plan, except the Death Eaters already knew about the alleys. After they had finished torturing the people in the streets, the Death Eaters began prowling the back alleys. Some of them unknowingly cut off the routes to the portkeys.
"This is where Potter comes in. He broke through everyone's panic and started coordinating the upperclassmen. It wasn't about defeating the Death Eaters, he said, but stalling them and luring them away from the portkeys. I remember Potter shouting orders. The seventh years and Hogsmeade residents, even though they were more experienced than him, could do nothing but listen. I didn't believe it would work, but Potter's plan managed to free up the routes to the portkeys. Bit by bit, the students evacuated."
I raised a hand to my throat and ran my fingers over the soft skin. Actually, it was all too easy to imagine Potter barking orders and people not hesitating to follow. He had the confidence and charisma that could make one believe in him.
"You were there too, of course," said Rosier. "You and Macdonald stayed with the underclassmen, to protect them if any Death Eaters stumbled across you. Thankfully none did. I remember watching McKinnon hug a third-year girl as she fought back tears." A bitterness made its way into Rosier's voice as he continued to talk. "Edythe wanted to cast sparks into the sky, so that the Death Eaters could find the students. She said Macdonald deserved to be caught. I stopped her. I think I told her someone would see her cast the sparks and that would only bring trouble down on both our heads. I said whatever to get her to stop."
He was lying, I thought. Trying to show me that he wasn't as bad as Dovetail to get me to trust him. It wouldn't work.
Mary was a muggleborn. I could only imagine what the Death Eaters would do if they'd discovered her. Imagines formed in my mind of Mary being dragging by magic through the snow-covered streets, an eternal scream etched into her soft features. A shiver ran through me.
"Dumbledore and the other professors arrived less than a minute later, so it wouldn't have mattered if Edythe had sent up the sparks. The Death Eaters fled the moment they spotted Dumbledore in his purple robes. It didn't matter to them, we later learned. It wasn't the students they were after. The four witches and wizards they'd tortured in the streets were all muggleborns who lived in Hogsmeade. One had died. Two were sent to St. Mungo's. The last one, the Death Eaters took with them. Rumor has it, she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix."
He eyes flashed when he said those last words, and he watched my reaction carefully. No doubt he saw a look a recognition in my eyes. There was nothing I could do to prevent that. What Rosier would do with the knowledge, I couldn't say.
"What about the students?" I asked.
"A couple of fifth year Slytherin girls were Stunned," said Rosier. "One Hufflepuff boy ended up in the Hospital Wing for a week. Two students, a boy and a girl, had to go to St. Mungo's due to uncontrollable bleeding. No one died. Thanks to Potter." He said the last word with an ironic twist to his mouth.
"The Death Eaters wanted to cause a scene," I murmured. "The muggleborn residents of Hogsmeade were their real goal, but they planned a day when the Hogwarts students would be there."
Rosier nodded as if he didn't already know all this. "They must have a rat in Hogwarts if they knew what day the Hogsmeade visit would take place."
My mind immediately jumped to the professors. I knew McGonagall, Sprout, Slughorn, and Binns weren't Death Eaters. But what about the others? I vaguely remembered a teacher named "Kettleburn" being mentioned in the books, so I doubted he was the rat. Professor Chen certainly didn't seem like a Death Eater, but who knew what lurked under the friendly exterior. Of course, now that I thought about it, the rat wasn't limited to teachers. Students could be Death Eaters as well.
"Or had," I said. "The spy could've been a seventh year last year."
Rosier nodded. "If their informant graduated, then likely the Death Eaters will have found a replacement."
I flinched. I had just remembered who I was talking to. A student who spied for Voldemort was likely the child of a Death Eater. I bit the inside of my cheek and then asked, "Do you know who the rat is?"
"No," said Rosier simply.
My eyes narrowed.
"I do not," repeated Rosier. "Spies wouldn't benefit from being well-known."
"Voldemort likely keeps his followers secret from one another," I said at last.
Rosier, I noticed, never flinched at the use of Voldemort's name.
After some thought, he said, "If You-Know-Who has spies in Hogwarts, then Dumbledore undoubtedly has them in the Death Eaters."
My eyes narrowed as the pale face of Severus Snape flashed through my mind. Dumbledore would certainly get his spy, but it wouldn't be until after James and Lily's deaths. Did he have one before that? If he did, then it wasn't mentioned in the books.
"Time's up." Rosier abruptly rose to his feet. His head bumped into the stone ceiling, and he winced in pain.
"You're leaving?" I asked, blinking stupidly in my surprise. We'd barely touched the surface of the things I needed to know. I'd been so distracted by the talk of spies. I'd forgotten to ask more questions.
"Dueling Club meets on Wednesdays at half past seven." Rosier held out his left wrist so I could see the surface of his watch.
"It's barely past seven o'clock now."
Rosier smiled as he vanished both of the wooden chairs with a flick of his wand. "But the captain can't be late."
I wrinkled my nose. Of course, he was the captain.
As he left the broom closet, Rosier glanced over his shoulder at me and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Marlene."
And just like that, once again, Rosier had left me alone in this broom closet. At least this time, I wasn't sprawled out on the floor. With a heavy sigh, I picked up my bookbag and slipped the strap over my shoulder. Unconsciously, I slid a hand into the bag and felt the soft fabric of the baseball cap.
I hadn't gotten to ask him the most important question. Are you the rat?
That was not the end of our meetings. On Saturday, after my run with James, I showered and then made my way back to the broom closet. Rosier filled me in on Marlene's family as best he could. He recounted stories that she'd told him while they deciphered dreams and read astrology charts in Divination last year. He told me about Marlene's pet salamander who'd found his way onto her ma's pillow in the middle of the night and about the hideous nutcracker Marlene had painted as a child that her da insisted on giving a place of honor to on the mantle every yuletide. Rosier was hazy on the details at times, but he remembered enough. Every detail helped.
The next week went much more smoothly. On Sunday, I managed to stumble through a conversation with Mary about our revolving door of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. We'd debated whether Melrose or Borowitz had been a better teacher. James and Lily joined us just when I suggested the position might be cursed, and James had called me paranoid.
Then, on Monday, I helped Peter cast an owl-conjuring spell (which, luckily, I'd learned the night before while wearing the diadem). Remus had been looking a little peaky last week, much to Mary's concern, and at lunch, I had to listen to James and Sirius have an entire conversation about Remus's "furry little problem" with a forced expression of blank confusion on my face. When Lily asked after Remus's pet rabbit, it took all my willpower not to laugh aloud. James asked me what was so funny, and I stammered something along the lines of "I hope Remus can get his rabbit under control."
I even managed to greet Marlene's younger brother in the common room on Tuesday night. He eyed me warily, but I tried my best to be as open and positive as Marlene would've been. I might have overdone it in places, talking too enthusiastically about the first match of the season between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Still, Hartley looked at me a little less cautiously when we parted ways that night.
Things were getting easier. I was by no means perfect. There were so many things I still didn't know, and slip ups happened from time to time. I could only stare at James blankly when he started talking about the dramatic ending to a Quidditch match that I'd supposedly attended with my brother. And when Dorcas asked me about a delicious tea that we'd supposedly had a Madam Puddifoot's, I could only say "I don't remember" much to her disappointment.
Still, any day where they didn't look at me with concerned stares felt like a victory. Step by step, I moved further away from being locked away in Azkaban.
There was, of course, no helping the fact that I disappeared to the Room of Requirement almost every day. I made time throughout the week to study with Marlene's friends, but most of my work was done at the mahogany desk. I had finished almost all of the first year coursework by this point, added some hexes and jinxes to my repertoire, and practiced the Shield Charm until I was halfway decent at it. The Shield Charm would, of course, do nothing against Rosier, but I felt better knowing I wasn't completely defenseless.
The diadem still gave me headaches, and I probably wouldn't have survived without the pain relief potions Lily continued to brew for me in Potions Club. When I thanked her, she told me that it was no big deal and that she liked to experiment with different ingredients to see if she could make it taste better. I told her if her experiments sent me to the Hospital Wing, she owed me big time.
Helena continued to stalk Regulus Black and Severus Snape for me. Every night before I put on the diadem and began studying, I would sit in the overstuffed armchair and listen to Helena's recounts of the boys' activities.
"Black is at Qudditch practice," said Helena one night. "The captain was telling him about a difficult move for Seekers when I left. And Snape is in his common room, studying with two of those horrid friends of his."
I nodded. There hadn't been anything of real interest in her reports of Regulus Black. He spent his days hanging out with other Slytherins. His best friend, Travis Wilkes, was also a future Death Eater. Black used the word "mudblood" and said that they "should never step foot in this castle" when he thought no one outside his friend group was in earshot. He occasionally got into fights with two Gryffindors, Fabian and Gideon Prewett. His best subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts. He played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team and had since his fourth year. He never spoke to his brother, Sirius, and if they passed one another in the corridors, they pretended to be strangers.
There was, I thought, very little I could do with this information. Though, one thing about Regulus had caught both Helena's and my attention…
"He once again spent dinner talking with your Slytherin friend," said Helena. "He seems to be a fan."
"You think Regulus Black is a fan of Evan Rosier?" It was hard to keep the scoff from my voice.
"A feeling," said Helena. She looked a little offended at my doubt. "I have been watching the boy for almost a fortnight. He and his friend Wilkes seem to gravitate toward Rosier. They would follow your friend into battle, I believe. It would not surprise me to learn that Black joined the Death Eaters for Rosier in the story you know."
I frowned. I had seen Regulus Black sitting beside Rosier at the Slytherin table some nights. The sight had disturbed me. Rosier's influence was never a good thing. Especially not when I wanted to convert Black to my side. I already felt exhausted just thinking of having to maneuver through more of Rosier's tricks and games. And, of course, Rosier would figure it all out without me saying a word. He was just that sort of annoying.
"You friend is dangerous, is he not," said Helena.
She'd stumbled across Rosier and me leaving the same broom closet on Wednesday. She was smart enough to know we hadn't been shagging in there, and I'd had to answer her endless questions.
"I'll figure out what to do with him," I said.
"He complicates matters. I always try to listen to his conversations with Black, but it is almost impossible to hear them." Helena drifted backwards, her mouth twisted into a frustrated scowl. "Your Slytherin friend is very tricky with his warding spells. He does not like to be overhead."
A wry smile worked its way onto my face. "Yeah, Rosier is like that."
"How impossible to deal with," muttered Helena.
She had no idea.
I drummed my fingers against the leather armrest. "He's friends with both Snape and Black. I don't want him to know what I'm doing, but there's no way he won't notice."
"I believe Black will tell him if you show any of your hand," said Helena. "It is hard to describe, but I have watched him long enough that I can see the light in his eyes when he talks to Rosier. I believe when he is thrown into doubt, Rosier is the one Black will turn to for advice."
Helena had been the one tailing Regulus Black for these last two weeks. As much as I hoped her assessment was wrong, I had to trust her advice on this. I'd never had a conversation with Black, and he was little more than a side plot in the books.
"Snape and Rosier may be friends," I said, "but I don't think Snape would share his troubles with Rosier."
"I agree." Helena ran her fingers through her silvery, translucent hair as she spoke. "Snape spends time with his friends, but he is not an open-book to then. He keeps his struggles as his own."
"He also won't want them to know about Lily," I said after considering her words. "His friends are all arrogant blood-purity arseholes. If they learn he's trying to rekindle his friendship with a muggleborn like Lily, he risks ostracism."
Helena curled her hair around her finger as she said, "He may not share his feelings and struggles with his friends, but they are very important to him. He likes to please them. When Avery voiced his dislike of Professor McGonagall, Snape fervently agreed even though he had told Rosier a couple days prior he thought McGonagall was very fair. And when Dovetail complained about people eavesdropping on her conversations, he swiftly taught her a spell that I had never heard of before."
"Muffliato," I murmured.
"You know the incantation?" asked Helena.
"It is one of Snape's own inventions."
Helena did not question how I had learned a spell Snape invented. Instead, she let go of her hair and stared at me with a slight frown. "Do you mean that Snape creates his own spells?"
"And his own potions," I said. "Levicorpus is one of his own making too."
Helena opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her lips pursed together. I waited, watching her struggle with her words, until at last, Helena said, "I once told you that Snape occasionally goes to a small area on the south side of the grounds to practice spells."
"Yes?"
"I did not think much of it at the time," said Helena, "but he was reciting incantations I did not recognize."
"You think he's practicing spells he invented there?"
"I believe he may have been."
It was a private place, then. When Helena had first discovered the spot in the south grounds, Snape had been with Dovetail and Avery. Because of that, we'd both assumed it was a place where all the future Death Eater gang gathered. But perhaps both Helena and I had thought wrong.
"Thank you," I said, glancing up at Helena. "I know how boring you must find following students around."
Her eyes widened a fraction, but she only said, "It has its dull moments, but it is a vast improvement on the mindless days of wandering the halls."
Nothing more needed to be said on the matter. I leaned back in the armchair and stared at the baseball cap that rested on my copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
Snape definitely hadn't forgiven me for the Lily incident. I'd expected him to hold a grudge and seek vengeance in some form. For the past week, I'd walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, expecting jinxes aimed at my back. And yet, there'd been nothing. Much to my disappointment, Snape had left me alone.
I drummed my fingers on the armrest. "Shall we make the next move, then?"