The Lost Children

by nymphxdora

On 20 August, Teddy Lupin thought his fifth year at Hogwarts would be decidedly average. On 21 August, the first muggleborn child disappeared and everything changed.

18. Chapter 18: Hogwarts

Chapter 18: Hogwarts

Recap: Riley receives a blood purity propaganda letter from someone called the Follower. Victoire realises she has a crush on Teddy; Teddy has no idea and goes on a date with Matilda Goshawk, inciting Victoire's anger. Ella's Aunt Radhika intimates that Cecilia Carrow – Riley's mum – worked with Mandira Tiwari before the latter's imprisonment, leading Ella to think that Cecilia and Mandira are orchestrating the kidnappings together. Mandira Tiwari is broken out of Azkaban; Tabitha finds an unfinished letter to Angus Munroe in her cell, and hides it.

I: Prelude

There was no wind that night.

The moon hung high in the air, bright and full, like an overblown balloon. The stars were hard to see behind the pale, puffy clouds, and the air was heavy with moisture.

The promise of a storm was ubiquitous.

Was it the perfect night? No. A few days later, the storm would have subsided and it would be cool, dry and crisp. A few days later, the Earth would have turned and the moon would be hidden at best, or, at worst, no more than a tiny sliver.

But it couldn't wait.

Hogwarts was desolate: no longer were the corridors hubs of activity, the classrooms filled with chatter and the scratch of quill against parchment. Everyone – students, professors – were tucked safely into bed, their quilts up to their chins, enshrining them in a deep slumber. Only the ghosts remained awake, floating through the old, stone walls effortlessly, leaving no physical signs of their presence.

The top of the Astronomy Tower was similarly silent. The balcony was round and wide, dotted with telescopes and ringed by a thick, black railing.

Rumour had it someone had once tried to jump.

Beyond Hogwarts, the expansive grounds merged seamlessly with the Forbidden Forest and the wilderness beyond. The colours of the vegetation, usually vibrant, were cloaked in greyscale. In the far distance, the lights of Hogsmeade flickered and died.

It was almost like she was the only person in the whole world alive and breathing.

Being there – alone, awake when everyone was sleeping, high when everyone was low – was eerily peaceful. She wanted to take a moment and breathe it in, to revel in the magnificence of being alone and alive.

No.

This was not the time for self-indulgence, or, indeed for the self at all.

She did not understand why she had been chosen, but that was of little consequence: something to mull over later when she was safely returned to obscurity and superficiality, when the professors arrived in their dressing gowns, shock and horror scrawled messily across their faces. She had been given a task, and now, she was going to execute it.

From her fingers slipped a scrap of parchment. It fluttered to the floor and settled there, face-up, the black ink words as forceful as a searing brand.

Catch me if you can – or the children die at the close of midsummer.

Sincerely,

The Follower

She raised the wand above her.

"Morsmrodre."

A burst of lurid green smoke escaped the end of her wand and spun dizzingly upwards, swirling and expanding. She watched, mesmerised, as the smoke wound itself around the clouds, strangling them easily – for magic was a force far more powerful than mere nature.

Slowly, the smoke began to take shape – first, the curve of the head, then the slither of the snake. She felt her arm jerk, unbidden. Something was wrong.

The greyscale of her surroundings had changed: it was as if she was wearing vine-coloured glasses. Everything, everywhere was marked in a deep, ugly green.

The smoke coalesced into a skull. From its' mouth, a snake slithered, its' forklike tongue protruding poisonously.

She slipped back to her dormitory, where she had not been missed.

Behind her, hung the Dark Mark: ominous, glittering, green.

.oOo.

II: Forward

(three days earlier)

"So, Mister Lupin."

Professor Ernest Macmillan rounded his desk and sat down, reaching for a quill and parchment. Teddy Lupin watched as he drew his materials in front of him and looked up, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Hi, Professor."

"You know why you're here."

He nodded. All fifth years were to have mandatory meetings with their heads of houses to discuss careers. In theory, it was a good idea: although there was plenty of information out there about career paths and the necessary steps, Teddy hadn't taken the initiative to seek it out. In practice, however, it was terrifying. The careers meeting signified two things: the proximity of O.W.L.'s, and the fact that he only had two years left at Hogwarts. He'd always known that his time at the school would eventually draw to a close, but he'd never imagined that the end would come so quickly.

"Have you given your future career any thought?"

"Some."

"Good. That's better than some people I've met with. Any ideas about what you want to do?"

"I –" He broke eye contact with Macmillan, glancing down at his hands awkwardly. "Well, I – I thought I might like to be…well, an auror. Like my mum. And godfather."

He'd expected Macmillan to raise his eyebrows at this, but the professor did not react at all. Instead, he nodded sagely. "I thought so."

"You did?"

"I figured you might want to follow in your mother's footsteps."

Teddy's cheeks coloured slightly; Macmillan continued swiftly onwards. "Regardless, you've definitely got the grades to be an auror – you'll need to do N.E. in Potions, Defence, Transfiguration, and Charms, and your fifth subject will need to be challenging." He shuffled through some of the papers on his desk and extracted Teddy's latest report card. "You shouldn't have a problem getting onto those courses – you've got E's and above in everything except Arithimancy. Make sure you keep it up, Mister Lupin – I've taught several students who thought they'd breeze through O.W.L.'s and ended up doing much worse than expected."

"I will, sir," Teddy mumbled. He hadn't exactly started studying properly yet, despite Ella's frequent admonishments.

"Have you been to the Auror Office?"

Once, when he was too little to appreciate it and only for a few minutes – Uncle Harry had needed to pick up a document. He remembered the flurry of activity, the case boards, the stacks of paperwork.

"I could set up something for you," Macmillan continued. "As you may know, we let students go on one-day career placements in the Easter holidays. I could get in contact with the aurors, see if they'd be willing to have you for a day. I'm sure your godfather would be happy to show you the ropes."

Teddy's eyes lit up. He had always thought of the auror office as impenetrable to those who didn't work there. Though he had always wanted to go back and properly see where his mother had worked – to run his fingers over the desk that had been hers, to walk in her footsteps, to drink the coffee she had drunk – he had never dared to ask Uncle Harry, for fear of being refused.

"That would be amazing, Professor."

"I'll see what I can do. Have you thought about any other careers?"

He shook his head, feeling a bit silly – he should've probably thought of some alternatives. Auror training was notoriously difficult to get onto after all. "An auror just seemed like the nature choice."

"Don't worry," said Macmillan, reassuringly. He opened the first drawer of his wooden desk and, without any shuffling, extracted three brochures. "I was doing some thinking earlier about which careers would suit each of my students, and these are the ones I picked out for you."

He slid the brochures across the polished surface. Teddy leaned forward and looked at them curiously, his fingers running against the rough surface of each.

"Auror, of course, but I also think you'd be suited to Magical Law and Diplomacy. A lawyer, or an international affairs specialist."

Teddy hadn't thought of either before, and said as much.

"All the details are in the brochure – I think you've definitely got the intelligence and the skills to succeed. You're a natural diplomat, Teddy. The requirements are similar to those for Aurors, but History of Magic is also required."

Ugh. Teddy was not fond of History of Magic – Professor Binns had such a soporific voice – but he had heard that it became a lot more interesting at N.E.W.T. level. For one, they moved past Goblin Wars from the 1300s to look at more modern events.

"And finally, teaching."

He looked up, startled. "Teaching?"

An ironic smile formed on Professor Macmillan's face. "I might be biased – your father was an excellent teacher. One who inspired me. But you certainly have the countenance for it, Teddy. You're calm, patient, and caring – I've seen you tutor younger students, and you're – to put it quite simply – good at it. It's something you should consider."

It was funny – he'd gravitated so instinctively towards being an auror like his mother that he'd never stopped and considered whether his father's career might be interesting.

"You don't need to make any decisions now, Teddy. Just think on it. In the meantime, I'll write to my contacts at the auror office and see if I can set up a shadowing placement for you."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Of course, Mister Lupin. Now –" Macmillan reached into his drawer again, and this time pulled out a small metal tin. "Have a biscuit."

(x)

After classes had finished for the day, Teddy, Alfie and Ella gathered by the Great Lake to discuss their meetings. Alfie had yet to have his, but Ella had spoken with Flitwick not long after Teddy and Macmillan had met.

"How was it?" Ella inquired.

"Fine," shrugged Teddy. "Macmillan offered to set up a shadowing placement at the Auror Department for me. It would just be for a day during Easter, but I think it might be cool."

"Definitely!" enthused Alfie.

"Flitwick offered to do the same thing for me," said Ella.

"Really?" Teddy didn't recall Ella ever mentioning she wanted to become an auror.

"Yeah – Department of Magical Law Enforcement, though. It did get me thinking –"

"About being a lawyer?"

"Not exactly." She hesitated, and he glanced at her questioningly. "You know what I told you after the last Hogsmeade weekend? About how someone witnessed Mandira's crime?"

Alarm bells rang in Teddy's mind – Alfie hadn't been there when he'd spoken with Ella. He glanced at him worriedly, but the other Hufflepuff did not react. It seemed that Ella had decided to tell Alfie what her aunt had said after all – or at least, some of it. He wondered whether Ella had divulged her suspicions about Cecilia Carrow.

Alfie seemed to notice Teddy's uncertainty, and so, as if to prove that it was all right, he said: "A muggle, yeah?"

"Yeah. He gave pensieve evidence. And I looked it up – all pensieve evidence used in trials is stored in the Ministry."

Teddy looked up at the Ravenclaw witch, startled. She returned his gaze with wide, pleading eyes.

"No way."

"Come on, Teddy," she pleaded.

"It'd be heavily protected."

"Actually, no, it wouldn't. After ten years, all pensieve evidence is transferred from the main prosecutorial evidence locker to a storage room in the Obliviator Department."

A laboured breath escaped him and he broke eye contact with Ella, instead focusing on his surroundings. The Great Lake stretched expansively in front of him, glittering in the waning light. "It's a bad idea."

"Teddy."

"Wait." Alfie held up a hand. "What's a bad idea?"

Ella opened her mouth, but Teddy was too fast for her: "Ella wants to break into the Obliviator Department and steal the pensieve evidence."

"What?"

"It's a bad idea."

"That's not exactly what I was thinking," said Ella sharply, shooting Teddy a reprimanding glare. "For one, I don't want to break in. I thought we might be invited in – do a shadowing placement there. And I don't want to steal the pensieve evidence either – just see it."

"I don't get it," said Alfie, furrowing his brow. "Why do you want to see a bunch of people getting killed? You already know what the crime was."

This gave the Ravenclaw witch pause. She bit her lip nervously and glanced at her outstretched feet. "Well – I don't know. I just – I feel like I need to, you know?"

"No," said Alfie, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Ella, I wish I could empathise, but I'm completely lost right now."

"I think it would've been different if I'd always known about Mandira," said Ella slowly. "Because I've only just found out about her – I don't know. I'm just so curious."

"You're not still holding out hope that she's innocent, are you?" asked Teddy softly.

Ella's teeth dug further into her lip, displacing the reddish-pink blood. "I don't know. Maybe I am. I know it's stupid, and illogical, but maybe –" She sighed, and broke off again. "Forget it. It's stupid."

"No, it's not," said Teddy firmly. He had thought Ella was being unreasonable when she'd first suggested it, but now – despite her broken, wayward sentences, he thought he understood. And judging by the way Alfie was looking at her with newfound empathy colouring his large, hazel eyes, he understood too.

"I just need closure," said Ella, more to herself than to anyone else. "I need to know for certain that all of this happened, and that it all happened the way people say it did. I don't know if that's a sensible reason. I just know it's something I need to do." She looked up at them, her dark eyes flitting between Teddy and Alfie. "I've never asked you to help me like this before, but I am now. Please."

Never before had Teddy heard her like this: raw, scratchy, desperate.

How could he say no to her?

Alfie seemed to reach the same conclusion, for he reached forward and placed his pale palm on top of Ella's darker one. "I'm in."

"I am too," said Teddy.

A shadow of a smile ghosted across Ella's face."The only problem is that I don't know anyone in the Obliviator Department, and Flitwick said he didn't either. Unless either of you know anybody, I don't know how we'll get in."

"Don't look at me," mumbled Alfie. "Teddy?"

The turquoise-haired wizard bit the inside of his cheek. A memory flashed inside his mind with crystal clarity: a swarm of well-dressed people; the smell of cinnamon, peppermint and prosecco heavy in the air; the pressing need to get away to do something more important.

What was her name again? Eve? Evie?

Evelyn, that was it. Eveyln Crutter, and her husband David. Obliviators. And if he remembered correctly, she had invited him to visit her at the Ministry to see what the Obliviator Department was like.

"Teddy?" repeated Alfie, in a sing-song voice. "Earth to Teddy."

It was almost humorous the way things fell into place.

"I might know someone."

.oOo.

III: Lost

(two days earlier)

"Oh, Circe, no! Shit! Come on! Come on!"

"What in the world –" Victoire Weasley began as she entered her dormitory, surveying the scene in front of her with a mixture of bewilderment and horror. "Riley, are you okay?"

Riley Carrow certainly did not look okay. She stood over Victoire's bed, shaking her upside-down satchel vigorously and upending its' contents all over the red duvet cover.

"It has to be here!" she exclaimed.

Victoire approached the harried Slytherin. Riley was now on her knees, rummaging urgently through the loose pages of parchment, notebooks, and Honeydukes' wrappers. Victoire spotted an ink bottle tottering precariously on the edge of her bed, and strategically removed it before it could make a mess.

"It has to be here!" Riley repeated, her voice filled with desperation.

"What has to be here?" Victoire asked gently.

"My wand!"

This took Victoire by surprise. Riley was not the most organised of people – she was always forgetting appointments and losing homework – but even she wasn't stupid enough to lose her wand.

"I'm sure you've got it somewhere," said the blonde, watching somewhat hopelessly as Riley continued to rummage through her things with the dexterity of a Hippogriff. "When was the last time you saw it?"

"Last night – I was practicing the Cheering Charm –"

"You mean you were actually doing your Charms homework for once?"

Riley stopped, and shot Victoire a glance that would have caused even the hardiest dandelion to shiver up and die.

"Sorry, sorry." The Gryffindor held up her hands in apology. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Yeah, well, don't."

"Have you checked your pockets?"

"Yes – these pockets, my coat pockets, the pockets of the robes I was wearing yesterday. It's not there. I've looked through my whole Common Room and dormitory – even Iris Fawley and Hestia Witherspoon looked, and neither of them could find it!" She let out a short, exasperated breath. "I can't have lost my wand."

"No," assented Victoire glumly, "but it does seem like you have."

"I know." She finished rummaging through the pile of things on Victoire's bed, and sighed dramatically, letting her body flop to the floor. She leaned her back against the bedframe, and, drawing her knees to her chest, buried her face in her palms. "What am I going to do? I can't go to classes without a wand."

"You'll have to write to your parents – " Victoire began mildly.

Her suggestion was – unsurprisingly – not received well. Riley let out a massive snort. "Right. That'll go down well."

Victoire tried to imagine telling her own parents that she'd lost her wand. Her mother would probably have some sort of fit, exclaim that she could hardly believe Victoire, cette fille irresponsable, was her daughter, and then retreat to her room with smelling salts, citing an incurable headache. Her dad would be calmer, but the disappointment in his eyes would be far too much to bear.

No, the witch thought grimly, telling parents about a lost wand was not the ideal course of action.

But still: "You don't have enough pocket money to buy yourself a new one, do you?"

"No. I'll have to write to them – Mum won't take it too badly, and maybe I can convince her not to tell Dad."

"See? Always a bright side."

"Still – maybe I can put it off."

"Riley," Victoire said reprimandingly.

"Only for a few days! I don't want to write to Mum and then find my wand under my bed or something. Until then – I don't know, I'll ask Smith if he has a spare or something."

"Fair enough," said Victoire, cocking her head slightly as she considered this. "Only don't ask Smith – ask Macmillan. He's got a few spare wands in case a hex goes badly wrong and breaks someone's wand."

Riley surveyed her curiously, a bemused expression on her lips. "You really don't trust Smith, do you?"

"I didn't say that!"

"But it's true."

Victoire sighed. "I don't know, Riley. I just think there's something off about him – especially after what you told me he's said to you."

The Slytherin thought about this in silence; Victoire watched her closely, but was unable to read the thoughts that swirled behind those startling, sharp green eyes.

"Fine," said Riley, at last. "I'll ask Macmillan."

"Good."

"And in the meantime – don't tell anyone about me losing my wand. Merlin knows this world is small enough – I don't want the news making it back to my parents."

.oOo.

IV: Bechdel Test

(one day earlier)

Victoire Weasley sat cross-legged in a corner of the Hogwarts courtyard, her back straight and supported by a heavy, bevelled pillar. Herbology textbooks were open haphazardly in front of her, and she twiddled a quill impatiently between her long fingertips as she skimmed the sentences in front of her, attempting – to little avail – to make sense of them.

Who cared about how Moonwurt grew anyway? It wasn't as if she was going to become a Herbologist, or a Healer, or a Potioneer. She didn't need to know anything about stupid plants.

She was half-inclined to slam her books shut and face Professor Longbottom's disapproving expression when she heard a voice call her name. Looking up Victoire saw Ella Anderson making her way towards her from across the courtyard.

"Mind if I join you?" asked the Ravenclaw.

"Of course not." Victoire gestured to the empty patch of grass beside her, and Ella sat down, placing her satchel next to her. It was much nicer than Victoire's own, thought the blonde witch resentfully – all glossy, polished leather instead of scuffed canvas. Ella always had such nice things and Victoire…it wasn't that she didn't have nice things, more that she didn't take care of what she had.

An awkward silence settled in the air between the two girls. It wasn't that Victoire didn't like Ella – she did – but they rarely spent time together, just the two of them, and the Gryffindor had always found the other somewhat aloof. Ella wasn't one to divulge her innermost feelings and emotions to just anyone, and as a result, Victoire always felt slightly out of the loop with her.

It also did not help that she was much smarter than Victoire.

She figured she ought to make an attempt at conversation: "Er – how've you been?"

"Fine. You?"

"Fine."

More silence. Victoire chewed on her bottom lip absentmindedly and glanced around the courtyard. There were very few people around – surprising, considering that the weather was looking up.

"I haven't seen you around much," commented Ella.

A pink flush threatened to colour Victoire's cheeks. "Yeah, well, I've been – er – busy. Lots of homework."

"Right."

"And – um – Quidditch practice. I've got my first match this weekend."

"Against Ravenclaw, yeah?"

"Yeah. Of course, I don't expect you to cheer for me."

Ella laughed. "I don't tend to cheer for my house much – I cheer for my friends. Every time Hufflepuff's played Ravenclaw, I've cheered Alfie on. Of course I'll cheer for you."

This time, she couldn't stop the blush. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Listen," Ella began, hesitantly. "I've been wanting to catch you alone."

What? There was little Ella could have to say to her that couldn't be said in front of someone else – Riley, maybe not, but Teddy, definitely Teddy. Then again, she hadn't exactly been spending much time with the blue-haired Hufflepuff recently.

"It's nothing bad," Ella said, in what was supposed to be a reassuring voice, but did not sound particularly reassuring to Victoire.

"Okay," she said, drawing out the syllables questioningly.

The Ravenclaw witch shifted her weight awkwardly. "It's just – do you like Teddy?"

Oh, crud.

Victoire could feel her heart thumping against her chest at what must have been record pace. Her muscles tightened, and her face was scorching-hot, as if she'd dunked it in a bowl of boiling water. She couldn't bring herself to look at Ella – instead, she ducked her head, and said, rather unconvincingly: "No. Of course I don't."

Ella quirked an eyebrow, and Victoire wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She wasn't anywhere near a mirror, but she just knew that her face was as scarlet as the nail-polish she'd once bought on a trip to Hogsmeade and that her mother had denounced as vulgaire and chucked into the ocean.

Damn it. Why did her own face have to betray her?

"Teddy mentioned how you blew him off at Hogsmeade," said Ella, gently.

"I – I didn't blow him off."

"Really?

"Well – I mean, I sort of did. But it was nothing! I was just – er – upset with Riley. Yeah. We – um – had a fight. A big one. With shouting."

That annoying eyebrow quirk again: "Really?"

"Yeah! Of course! You can ask her."

Ella let out an exasperated breath. "Look, Vic, you're not fooling anyone, least of all me. You have been acting oddly around Teddy lately, and I can only think of one explanation for your – frankly – erratic behaviour. I understand if you don't want to tell me, but I just want you to know that Teddy's…confused. He doesn't understand why you're acting the way you are – because, let's face it, he's a boy, and boys are stupid most of the time. I understand that you're obviously dealing with some complicated feelings, but … don't let it impact your friendship, okay?"

It was almost ironic that Ella Anderson was here, giving her relationship advice. Ella was only a year older than Victoire, and she'd only had one boyfriend. Granted, Victoire had had none, so she was more experienced, but still. It wasn't as if Ella was some sort of all-knowing relationship guru.

But her words still rang true: avoiding Teddy probably wasn't the best way of going about things.

She looked up at Ella pleadingly. "Don't tell him."

The Ravenclaw looked affronted. "Of course I won't – that's not my decision. And just so you know – he's not dating Matilda Goshawk."

Victoire blinked, startled. "He's not?" She thought that he'd been hanging around with Matilda a lot lately.

"No. They're just friends."

"But –"

"They're just friends," repeated Ella, more firmly. "If you want details, ask him."

The blonde considered this, nodding slowly. At last, she said: "Thank you for talking to me."

"Of course."

"You promise you won't tell Teddy that I – you know?"

"I promise."

There was a moment of silence, and it seemed that Ella was about to leave, when suddenly, a strange high-pitched splutter sounded through the air.

Victoire whipped around to see Daisy Shipkins emerging from behind the pillar, clearing her throat. She was carrying a set of unfamiliar Potions textbooks – probably the products of some extra class with Professor Smith – and wore a rather victorious expression, as if she'd caught them in a compromising position.

And, based on how much she'd heard, she might well have.

"You two look cozy," simpered the redhead, strolling forward, her arms crossed smugly across her chest. Victoire wondered how easy it would be to reach out and punch her.

"Haven't you ever heard of privacy?" snapped Ella.

"No, Anderson. But I did just hear some other things. Some other very interesting things." She over-pronounced each word, her tongue flicking against her teeth in a snake-like manner. Victoire felt her stomach clench tightly, like scrunched-up and twisted tea towel.

"You shouldn't have been eavesdropping," warned the Ravenclaw. "Whatever you heard, keep it to yourself."

Daisy mock-pouted. "Now where's the fun in that?"

"I mean it, Shipkins."

"I'm sure you do. Now, I'm late – I've wasted enough of my time talking to the likes of you. Bye Anderson. Weasley."

The (idiotic, pompous prat of a) redhead gave the mute Victoire a jaunty wave and sauntered off. A sudden, cool breeze rippled across the courtyard, brushing against Victoire's bare neck. She shivered fiercely, the tremor running up and down her spine like the aftershocks of a particularly powerful earthquake.

Daisy couldn't tell Teddy – she just couldn't. If he knew…if he knew, everything would change, and Victoire wasn't ready. Teddy was her safety net and him knowing this would pull him out from under her feet and leave her freefalling.

She was aware of Ella's eyes on her, but – once again – she could not bring herself to look at the other witch, for she felt, inexplicably, ashamed of herself. Never had she thought she would be this girl: the one who fell headfirst into a crush without thinking it through, and now, unable to pull herself out, was at the mercy of another.

"Are you alright?" asked the Ravenclaw, hesitantly.

No. No, she was not.

"I'm fine."

Daisy Shipkins couldn't tell him.

She just couldn't.

.oOo.

IV:

(the day of)

The full moon had always had a strange effect on Teddy Lupin.

In first year, he tracked the moon religiously. On the nights when it hung high and round in the sky, he found himself unable to sleep – unable, in fact, to remain indoors at all. The soft mossy grass and the crisp, refreshing air of the outdoors called to him, so, instead of staying cooped up in the castle, he'd snuck out to Hagrid's hut. In the earthy abode, the Professor cracked a window open and happily stayed awake with Teddy, telling him stories about his mother, father and godfather until the words blurred into incoherent sounds and the young wizard's eyes drifted shut of their own accord. He would stumble into classes the next morning bleary-eyed and distractable, but Ella and Alfie would always cover for him.

As the years drew on, he became better and better at resisting the influence of the moon. Sleep came more easily, and he no longer felt the irresistible lure of the dark, mysterious and yet oh-so entrancing castle grounds.

At least, not normally.

Today, the moon hung heavy in the sky, its' silvery-white rays filtering in through the crack in the curtains. From across the room, Jonathan Trigg was snoring lightly, filling the air with short, sharp snorts. Archie Quintin was curled up on his side, breathing heavily. Alfie Hayes was silent, but soundly asleep.

Only Teddy lay uncomfortably on his bed. The sheets were unusually scratchy – odd, he thought, given that he was fairly sure the house elves had changed them that morning. He couldn't seem to find the most comfortable spot, nor the most comfortable temperature: it was too cold with his duvet off, but when he pulled it up to his chin, it became almost unbearably warm.

He rolled over and squinted at the red clock on his bedside table. The hands were not difficult to make out: his eyes had long since acclimatised to the darkness. Two A.M. He'd been trying to sleep for at least four hours and yet here he was – as awake as if someone had dragged him out of bed and tossed him, naked, into a pool of ice water.

His mind flashed back to second year. Alfie and Ella, upon finding out that he had difficulty sleeping on full moon nights had started sneaking out with him, despite his attempts to dissuade them. Hagrid had been all too pleased with the company. Once Teddy began sleeping through the night, it became more difficult to coordinate visits, for he never knew when insomnia would strike and when it wouldn't, and slowly, the tradition had tapered out.

He glanced over at Alfie's sleeping figure. It would be too difficult to get Ella, and Hagrid would've probably gone to bed by now, but he could wake Alfie up. There were another five and a half hours until breakfast, and Teddy wasn't keen on spending them alone.

Silently pushing off the top sheet, he lifted himself out of bed and crept across the wooden flooring until he reached the adjacent bed.

"Alfie," he whispered urgently, giving the other's arm a small shake.

"Unf?"

"Alfie."

The brunet opened one of his eyes lazily, blinking away sleep. "Tis it, Ted?" he slurred, his lips heavy.

"I can't sleep."

"Good night."

"No! Alfie!"

"Not good night?"

"No. Full moon."

"Huh." This seemed to get Alfie's attention. He stretched and, with great effort, lifted himself up.

"Common room?" gestured Teddy.

"If you insist," yawned the other.

The two boys grabbed their slippers and dressing gowns and, gingerly, so as not to wake the other occupants of the dormitory, tip-toed through the door, down the corridor, and into the deserted Common Room. There was no fire in the fireplace. Teddy glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Two oh-seven.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Alfie.

He shook his head.

"Wow. When was the last time a full moon affected you like this?"

Teddy shrugged. "A long time ago."

"Weird." Alfie drew his knees up to his chest, and looked around the room curiously. "I've not seen the Common Room this empty in a long while."

The Common Room. Teddy followed his gaze, his own eyes travelling over the ridges in the earthy walls, the mud-brown colour of the ground, the clay pots on the shelves.

Where were the windows? How could there be no windows?

He inhaled, and was greeted not by the intoxicating freshness of crisp, new air, but with the musty smell of the underground, of oxygen mingled with dust and earth. The walls seemed to tighten around him, the room no longer seeming as vacuous and expansive as it once did.

Why were there no windows?

"Can we – er – go?" he asked. Each word took a great amount of effort.

"Go where?" Alfie's eyes widened.

"Out."

"We're not exactly dressed to go out."

Impatience coloured his tone: "Well, then, not out of the castle. Just somewhere with fresh air."

"Teddy –" Alfie began hesitantly.

"Please, Alfie. I need to get out."

"Okay," nodded the other, slowly. "Alright. We'll get out. Astronomy Tower?"

The higher up you went, the thinner the air, but at least it would be fresh – he would feel the breeze, if there was one, rake through his hair, tickle the soft skin on the underside of his palms, blow through the gaps in his fingers. His toes wouldn't sink into moist, soft soil, but they would touch stone, and that was as good as he was going to get.

The silence in the Hogwarts corridors was even more deafening than the one in the common room. Teddy had forgotten what it was like to see them deserted, occupied only by the ghosts, portraits and suits of armour. Once they were out of the basement, they could see the moon again, cutting through the columns and casting shapeshifting shadows across the hall: there one second and gone the next.

Anyone else, thought Teddy, might find it disconcerting – even Alfie stopped suddenly now and then, spooked by a sudden sound, or trick of the light – but he did not. The pull was too great – it hadn't been this strong in years. He wanted nothing more than to step out of the castle and bathe in the moonlight.

It was this that propelled him up the spiral staircase, Alfie following closely behind. At the top, the door to the round balcony was open. There was no breeze, but Teddy could smell the air: salty and sizzling, like a firestorm waiting to happen. All it needed was a single spark – perhaps he was that spark.

He was about to step across the sill when he felt fingers sink into the flesh of his upper arm, and wrench him backwards. The air's spell was broken – he almost hit the wall, hard.

"What the –" he began hissing, but Alfie put an urgent finger over his own mouth.

"Shut up. We're not alone."

What?

Pressing his lower back firmly against the wall, he leaned forward from his waist, peering through the doorway, releasing his breath in short, shallow puffs.

The girl stood alone, midway between the door and the railings. Teddy squinted, trying to make out something recognisable, but she had her back to them and the lighting and distance was such that he was unable to tell the colour of her hair. Something fluttered from her fingertips. In her right hand, she held a wand.

When she spoke, her voice was misty, dark and – terrifyingly – hollow. But her words were not – they were hypnotising, mystic almost. They curled around the empty air and dissipated, filling every crevice with their power.

Her utterance might have been unfamiliar to Teddy, but its' results were not.

He knew as soon as he saw the green smoke begin to take shape. A powerful shudder ran through him – almost like a full-body convulsion. Next to him, Alfie was still – too still. It was as if someone had poured concrete into his bloodstream, turning him rigid and fragile.

Both the Hufflepuffs were lucky enough to never have seen the Dark Mark in their lifetimes, but they had read enough books. They had seen the pictures in the Daily Prophet after the attack on Hogsmeade.

Never again, the newspapers had said. Never again will we see the mark hang in the air, threatening, terrifying, malevolent. Never again will it inject fear straight into our hearts, stiffening our bones and clouding our brains.

Never again, they had said, and yet there it was.

The girl turned towards the boys and Teddy, breaking out of his stupor, sprang into action. He grabbed through the air wildly, and, when his fingers made contact with Alfie's skin, he jerked him into a nearby alcove. It barely hid them, but it would be enough if the girl didn't turn to look.

Please don't let her look.

The silence was crushing, weighing down on his chest like a rock, and it was all he could do not to scream. Her footsteps were soft – he couldn't tell whether she was still far away, or whether she was simply light-footed.

When she passed, he felt his heart stop momentarily. It was a wonder it didn't fall out of his chest.

"It can't be!" whispered Alfie, the shock thick in his throat.

"Shush!"

The girl swanned past them: she didn't hear them, nor did she see them. Teddy felt his mouth fall open as he stared at her retreating back.

As she turned the corner down the stairs, her long, ginger hair swished from side to side, almost hypnotically.

It was only once she was gone – down the stairs, her footsteps entirely faded from both perception and memory, that the two Hufflepuffs turned to each other, neither trusting their own eyes. Together, in unision, they whispered her name in shock:

"Daisy Shipkins."

.oOo.

(the night of)

V:

Tabitha James was not one to sleep deeply.

Deep sleep was for children, or dogs – not highly trained aurors. She kept one foot in the world of the living and allowed slumber to intoxicate the other. It was enough for her – she never felt exhausted or drained, and her instincts did not dull.

So when a silvery light entered Munroe's bedroom, Tabitha was the first to wake. She turned onto her back and sat up, blinking once or twice to adjust to the darkness. Munroe, disturbed by the movement, awoke more slowly, groggily opening his eyes and then, startled by the glow that permeated the room, sat up quickly.

"What –" he began, his voice still heavy with sleep. Tabitha shushed him.

The patronus – a grey wolf – began to speak in the gruff, deep voice of the Head Auror:

"James, Munroe – get yourselves into the department, now. We have a situation."

Munroe's head snapped around, the depths of his blue eyes filled with shock. "What?"

Tabitha was already out of bed and at the cupboard, pulling a grey sweatshirt over her head. "Get changed."

Five minutes later, a loud crack shook through the bedroom.

(x)

Harry and Robards were already at the Ministry when Munroe and Tabitha arrived, the former looking more bedraggled than the latter. Tabitha had been expecting an eyebrow raise, maybe a wry comment about her and Munroe arriving together, but neither wizard seemed to notice. Potter's eyebrows were knitted together, and he kept glancing around the room, as if he expected to see someone eavesdropping. Robards' face was more stoic, but grave nonetheless. He fixated his dark, serious eyes on Tabitha, sending a shiver through her shoulders.

Whatever this was, it was more serious than she'd thought.

"Twenty minutes ago, I received a private communiqué from Headmistress McGonagall," began Robards.

Oh, Merlin. Another child. It had to be.

Beside her, Munroe swallowed hard.

"The Dark Mark has been raised over Hogwarts."

Wait.

What?

She felt the muscle holding her back straight slacken and it was all she could do not to stumble and fall.

No.

It couldn't be.

The Dark Mark had been cast over Hogsmeade before Christmas, but when it hadn't happened again, Tabitha had assumed – or rather, hoped – it was a one-off – someone proving that they still had the knowledge to send it up into the air.

But over Hogwarts?

The school was impenetrable, secure. Now, it was even more of a safe haven than it had been before the war owing to its' status as the site of the final battle. To think that someone could've set a mark over it was unthinkable. The muscles in her shoulders twitched, and she drew them close together, trying to still the shake running through her body. Beside her, Munroe stood, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them: "Are you sure?"

Potter bit his lip and Robards sneered at her: "I'll admit, James, I did think McGonagall had finally gone off her rocker, but she hasn't. Professor Flitwick confirmed the presence of the mark."

Circe.

"The children?" Munroe asked, his voice shaking.

"The Heads of Houses are performing a count – difficult, considering they don't want to wake the students up. Might cause a panic."

"There'll be a panic tomorrow anyway," muttered Tabitha. "I'd be surprised if parents didn't demand that students were sent home."

"That's not our concern," said Robards, sharply.

"What's our plan?"

"I want you at the scene." He jerked his chin towards Tabitha, who nodded. "And you, Potter. An old and new set of eyes. Stay and investigate – standard protocol. Interrogate the kids again if you have to."

"And me?" asked Munroe.

"You stay here," ordered the Head Auror. "Hold down the fort."

The blond looked crestfallen. "But –"

"No buts. I need one of you here to coordinate Ministry resources and assist the others remotely. You're my choice. Understood?"

Munroe nodded, but Tabitha noticed the curve of his eyebrow, the twist of his lip. He wasn't happy.

Figured. Maybe whoever'd sent the Mark up was relying on Munroe being first on the scene to clean up his mess. All the more reason that he should stay firmly put in London.

"Good. Now go." Pause. "And Godspeed."

(x)

Hogwarts was different at night. Howls from the Forbidden Forest rang through the grounds ominously. The Great Lake was dappled with moonlight and the castle itself was bathed in a putrid green glow. The Dark Mark hung high above the Astronomy Tower. Neither Tabitha nor Harry could look at it without shuddering, so they focused instead on the grass crunching beneath their feet until the grass faded into stone and pavement, and they were safely inside the school they once called home.

"It wasn't Munroe, was it?" asked Potter in a low voice as they made their way to the Headmistress's Office. "He could've Apparated to Hogsmeade –"

Tabitha shook her head. "No, definitely not. I was with him the whole night. I'd have noticed if he left."

To Potter's credit, he accepted this without argument. "Tiwari, then?"

"Possible." There was still no word on her location – the Auror office had organised search teams, but had elected not to share knowledge of her escape with the public. Robards was against the decision, but had been overruled by the powers that be – telling people about Mandira would inevitably set off a debate about the security of the wizarding community at large, and reignite the never-ending argument about whether or not the Dementors should be brought back.

They reached the gargoyle that marked the entrance to the Headmistress's Office, and gave the password. As they climbed up the golden stairs in silence, Tabitha realised with a start that she had been in the Headmistress's Office more times during the past year than she had ever been in it as a student.

It was funny, wasn't it, how things turned out?

Professor McGonagall was standing in front of her open door, looking far more alert than she ought to at four in the morning. Her signature green robes were crease-free, her witch's hat perfectly placed, and although her face was lined with worry, there was a steely determination in her eyes that Tabitha admired. She looked like a general, ready to lead an army into battle.

For once in her life, Tabitha was at a loss for words. She couldn't begin to imagine how Professor McGonagall was feeling. This was a woman who had lived through two terrible wars, who had fought at great personal cost, and who had seen her friends lay down their lives in pursuit of a better world. This was a woman who had suffered pain unlike anything Tabitha could imagine so that none of this would ever happen again.

And yet here they were, at the very school that McGonagall had sworn to protect, reeling because somehow, somewhere, that protection had failed.

She was beginning to feel more and more like she was on the edge of a precipice, staring down into an endless black hole.

Beside her, she could feel an almost electric energy emanating from Harry. She wondered what he was thinking – the Boy Who Lived, called back to the site of what he had thought was his final battle, only to realise that it wasn't over – and that maybe, it never would be.

Thankfully, it was McGonagall who broke the silence – and she did not waste a single second getting straight to the heart of the matter:

"The Heads of Houses have completed the count. No children are missing."

Tabitha felt the weight pressing down on her shoulders lift, and Harry let out a long audible exhale. Thank Circe.

"We've searched the castle, and have not located any intruders. There are no signs of a break-in."

"So it could be an inside job," murmured Tabitha. She would need to examine the points of entry herself to be sure. "What time was the mark found?"

"Three A.M. We have no way of knowing how long it's been up."

"Have you searched the scene?" asked Harry.

Professor McGonagall's lips formed a thin line. "Not thoroughly, Mister Potter." Her sentence hung unfinished in the air.

"But?" prompted Tabitha, ignoring the twinge of irritation that ran through her.

"When Mr. Knobbles discovered the Dark Mark, he also discovered these."

She withdrew a slim piece of parchment from the pockets of her robes and handed it to Tabitha.

Catch me if you can – or the children die at the close of midsummer.

Sincerely,

The Follower

The room suddenly seemed too quiet, and too expansive. Tabitha felt her stomach clench tightly, and a lump formed in her throat. Harry, who had been reading over her shoulder inhaled sharply and muttered, "My God," under his breath.

She'd always known that she'd been playing a game of life and death, but it had been easy to forget, not to confront the brutal realities of her job and this case. But now that it was written in front of her, in black ink that seeped through the page and into her mind like poison – it felt like punishment for all the times she'd gotten distracted, for all the times she'd taken her eye off the ball.

No more. From now on, laser focus. She would live, breathe, and sleep this case, pursue every lead with a rigid, angry determination.

She would not let the children die.

"Miss James?" asked Professor McGonagall, her eyebrow lifting in either suspicion or concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," said Tabitha stiffly, ignoring the worried look Harry shot her. "Whoever this Follower is – he's ballsy."

"It's like he's daring us," assented Harry, softly. "He sounds almost overconfident."

"I like overconfident people. They make mistakes."

Silence, as they each re-read the note, the words repeating over and over in their minds: taunting, trenchant, terrifying.

Finally, McGonagall cleared her throat. "There was something else found."

Tabitha's head snapped up. "What?"

The Headmistress reached into her robes once again, and this time extracted a long, slim wand. Tabitha felt a shiver of anticipation run between her shoulder-blades as she reached for it and held it between her hands, running her fingers across the carvings.

Auror training included a mandatory wand identification module – they learned to identify the wood and the length. Most thought it was useless, but Tabitha had always understood its' value. A wand was as unique as a fingerprint.

"Thirteen inch. Yew. Am I correct?"

Harry nodded. "Looks like it to me."

"Does Hogwarts have a register?" she asked McGonagall, who nodded.

"We've already checked the wand against the register, Miss James," she said, her voice grave and low, as if she was afraid of someone overhearing her. "It matches a student."

"Only one?" Harry's brow furrowed. "Even without core information?"

"Correct, Mister Potter. Only one student has a thirteen-inch yew wand." She paused and Tabitha held her breath.

"Riley Carrow."

.oOo.

VI: Mourning

The next morning, classes were cancelled and all students were confined to the Great Hall.

Teddy – along with the rest of the school – had been awoken at seven thirty and led into the Hall, where Professor McGonagall had given a grave speech informing them of the previous night's events. The moment she mentioned the Dark Mark, a ripple of shock spread out across the room: hands clapped over mouths, gasps filled the air, and some people looked as if they were about to faint.

Teddy didn't blame them. He wasn't the only one who'd lost family in the war.

He caught a glimpse of Tabitha James watching from a corner, her arms folded and her lips pressed into a thin line. The moment McGonagall's speech was over, she spun her heel and slipped out. A guilty lump formed in his throat – he wondered if Tabitha knew he and Alfie had been out of bed, and if so, whether they'd be called in and questioned.

"I can't believe it," Ella whispered mournfully, as the trio made their way to an isolated corner and huddled together. "The Dark Mark? Over Hogwarts." She shook her head, as if trying to get rid of something in it. "It's like a nightmare."

Alfie glanced at Teddy and swallowed hard. They had yet to tell Ella about what they had seen the previous night.

Teddy glanced around the room casually, trying to see whether Daisy was around. She was sitting on the Hufflepuff table with Morna, working through a set of homework while gossiping conspiratorially. Every now and then, one of them let out a tiny giggle that was quickly muffled.

They were acting like everything was completely normal. Teddy remembered with a shiver how dismissively Daisy had spoken about the missing children and felt a stab of guilt in his stomach. He wanted to shake her.

The trio sat down on the cold, marble floor, and Teddy quickly made sure that there was no one around. Only when he was absolutely certain that they couldn't be overheard, did he whisper: "There's something we've got to tell you."

Ella's head snapped up immediately. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "What do you mean?"

He looked at Alfie – the other Hufflepuff's green eyes were wide, and Teddy could sense his apprehension. Sighing, he said: "We were out last night."

"You were what?" The whites of her eyes popped against her tanned complexion.

"Shush!" Teddy exclaimed hurriedly. "You can't tell anyone."

"Well, obviously. What were you doing out?"

"Full moon."

She regarded him suspiciously. "You've not been affected by a full moon in years."

"More like months. It doesn't matter, though – the fact is, I couldn't sleep. I woke up Alfie and we snuck out."

Ella's voice shook: "Where did you go?"

"To the Astronomy Tower," whispered Alfie.

"Oh my Merlin! What time?"

"Two, maybe two-thirty."

"Oh my Merlin! Are you two idiots? You could've been killed!"

"Well, how were we supposed to know that someone was planning something for the very night I couldn't sleep?" retorted Teddy sardonically. He regretted it instantly – hurt filled Ella's brown eyes, and he realised that she'd been speaking only out of concern. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

She nodded quickly. "I know. It's just – did you see anything?"

Silence. Neither Teddy nor Alfie wanted to say anything. To say it would make it real – not a trick of the light, not a false memory, but unimaginably, undeniably real.

Sometimes telling the truth was difficult.

Ella was regarding them suspiciously, her lips slightly parted. "Guys?" she said, her voice tilting upwards nervously. "What's wrong?"

"We did see something." Alfie's voice was barely audible.

"What?"

Alfie hesitated and looked at Teddy, who continued for him: "We saw who cast the Dark Mark."

"What? You – you – " She seemed at a loss for words. "Seriously?"

Teddy and Alfie nodded.

"You have to tell someone!"

"Ella, no –"

"No 'no's', Teddy, this is important. I know that! You know that!"

"I do, but it's…complicated."

"What could possibly be complicated about it?"

"What's complicated?" came a voice from above them.

Alfie and Ella both went very pale, and Teddy nearly jumped out of his skin. The trio had been so caught up in their conversation that they had forgotten to repeatedly ensure that they truly were alone – important, considering that the entire school had been crammed into a single hall.

Thankfully, it was only Victoire. Kneeling down, she sat next to Alfie, who was not doing a very good job of keeping calm.

"What's wrong?" asked the blonde witch, looking from face to face. "You all look like you've seen a ghost. Metaphorically."

"N-nothing," stammered Alfie.

Victoire raised an eyebrow. "Very convincing. Tell me what's going on."

If Teddy hadn't been so conflicted over what to do, he might've questioned why Victoire, who had gone out of her way to avoid him since Hogsmeade, was suddenly acting as if nothing at all had happened. Thankfully, his mind was far too conflicted and confused to give it significant thought.

He sighed, and – this time ensuring that no one else was within hearing distance – admitted that he and Alfie had seen who had cast the Dark Mark.

Victoire's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "You have to tell McGonagall!" she exclaimed.

"It's not that simple." The beginnings of a dull ache pricked at his temples.

"Yes, it is," said Victoire contemptuously, folding her arms. "If you saw who did it, you need to come forward. Did you recognise the person?"

Teddy hesitated and glanced at Alfie. "Yes. But – "

"No buts!" The blonde's blue eyes had taken on an angry tint. "They've taken Riley in for questioning."

A bolt of nausea hit Teddy in the stomach. "What?"

"They think Riley did it. So if you know otherwise –"

"Who did you see?" interjected Ella. "You said you recognised the person – who did you see?"

The nausea spread through his veins, its' tentacles reaching from the pit of his stomach up into his chest and curling around his heart. He hated this. He hated this beyond measure, he wished so strongly that he'd never woken Alfie up, never gone to the Astronomy Tower. He wished the Ministry still had their supply of time-turners, because then maybe, just maybe, he could stop this whole fiasco before it slowly – like a malfunctioning merry-go-round – span out of control.

His eyes drifted shut of their own accord and he squeezed his eyelids tightly, as if trying to make a bad dream go away.

Unfortunately, this was not a dream. When he opened his eyes, Alfie was still there, panic across his face. Ella and Victoire were still watching him closely, compelling him to answer.

"Daisy Shipkins," he whispered, his voice cracking. "It was Daisy Shipkins."

.oOo.

VII: The Questioning

When Riley Carrow was woken up just before seven AM by Professor Smith and told that someone was here to see her, she had little idea of what was going on.

Her first thought was her family – someone was hurt, or sick. She quickly changed into the first outfit she pulled from her wardrobe and shuffled out of the Common Room, expecting to be led to the Headmistress's Office.

It was quite a surprise, therefore, when she was brought to another room instead. It was small, just off the Transfiguration corridor, and looked suspiciously like the room that Tabitha James had first questioned her in, all those months ago.

But it couldn't be.

Nothing had happened.

"What's going on?" she asked Professor Smith.

He pressed his lips together, and she got the distinct feeling that he was holding something back.

"You'll find out soon enough."

And then he left her, all alone.

It was half an hour until the Aurors entered.

(x)

"Good morning, Miss Carrow," said Tabitha James, without making eye-contact.

"Hi, Riley," said Harry. The warmth in his voice stood in stark contrast to the ice in Tabitha's. He was trying to get on her good side, gain her trust. Tabitha let him. "We've not met before. I'm Auror Harry Potter."

He stuck out his hand and she shook it hesitantly. "I know. You're my friend's uncle."

"Victoire?"

She nodded.

"Great girl."

"Yeah."

A heavy pause filled the room. Tabitha withdrew a piece of parchment from her bag and scribbled something on it, drawing a line under her words in a single, smooth stroke.

"So," she began, glancing up at Riley for the first time. She looked just like she had the last time they'd been to see her: high, messy ponytail, sharp green eyes, upturned nose. Snotty brat. "Do you know why you're here?"

Riley shrugged.

"Last night, a dark mark was raised over Hogwarts."

Riley's head snapped up. She blinked twice, her green eyes filled with disbelief. Tabitha narrowed her eyes at her, like she didn't quite believe the veracity of her reaction.

As the shock seeped in, the girls' lips pressed together into a hard line. She met Tabitha's gaze, and said, flatly:

"You think I did it."

Harry glanced nervously at Tabitha. Tabitha stared back, unflinching.

"We don't think. We know."

"How?" The Slytherin threw up her hands in outrage. "How could you possibly know?" What evidence could there possibly be?"

Triumphantly, Tabitha reached into her cloak and slid the wand across the table. The girl stared at it. Her lips fell open slightly and a visible lump formed in her throat as she swallowed hard. She'd be a terrible poker player.

"That is yours, isn't it, Riley?" asked Harry, gently. He was trying to gain her trust and Tabitha let him – easier to have the girl confess without a struggle than to deal with her sullenness for hours on end.

"I –" She faltered, at a loss for words.

"Riley?"

"Yes." Her shoulders drooped in defeat. "It's mine. But I lost it. Two days ago."

Tabitha snorted. "That's convenient."

"It's the truth."

"We searched your room, too, you know."

Shock filled Riley's eyes, and then, something else, just in the corners. Tabitha felt a rush of adrenaline when she saw it; she felt almost like a bloodhound, a predator who had cornered its' prey. Riley was scared. Out of her mind.

Harry had seen it, too. Sighing, as if to demonstrate reluctance, he drew the envelope they had found tucked into a drawer from his robes. Unfolding it, he read it out, each word like a gunshot ricocheting through the stale, still air.

"Riley Carrow,

The time has come.

Renounce your friends, and welcome, with open arms, your family. By the virtue of the Pure Blood running through your veins, you are one of us. You want what we want, you deserve what we all deserve: freedom, power, and most importantly, primacy.

It is almost time to take up arms. We trust you will join us when you receive the signal.

Sincerely,

The Follower."

He folded the parchment away, and looked up at Riley, clasping his hands in front of him. Tabitha glanced at him – he looked like a wounded puppy. Clever. Outrage didn't work on Riley – but sadness just might.

"You have to admit," said Potter in a low voice, "that's pretty damning."

"You don't understand." Riley shook her head vehemently. "It's all a big misunderstanding."

"I want to believe you, Riley, I do. But you have to understand how it looks to us."

"How does it look, then?"

It was working – she was being more cooperative than she'd ever been with Tabitha. It was almost enough to send a twinge of jealousy through the auror.

"Well," said Harry, sighing and pursing his lips. "It looks a whole lot like you received this letter, and did what it said – you saw the signal, whatever that was, and you sent the Dark Mark up in response."

"That's not true," she protested, but there was desperation in her voice now. They were backing her into a corner. The air was thick with an electric buzz. She was going to crack.

"Who's the Follower, Riley?"

"I don't know."

"What was the signal?"

"I don't know."

"What do you know?"

"Nothing!" she exclaimed. "I know how this looks, okay – but I swear to you. I got that letter, and I was terrified. I should've burned it, but I don't know…I couldn't. I'd never heard of the Follower before I got it. And I swear to you – I lost my wand!"

"Okay," snapped Tabitha. "Where's the proof?"

"What?"

"Where's the proof you lost your wand? That you were terrified by the letter? You can't expect us to just take you at your word."

Riley looked desperately at Harry. He, too, shrugged: "We want to help you Riley –"

"She doesn't –"

Tabitha nearly snorted at this, but Harry sent her a warning look. "I want to help you. But even then – the evidence is speaking awfully loudly."

The girl paused. And then: "Ask Victoire Weasley. She was with me when I got the letter, and she knows I lost my wand."

"That's convenient," muttered Tabitha. "She's your best friend, isn't she? Of course she'll vouch for you. How do we know you've not intimidated her into –"

"I have not," cut in Riley, icily. "Victoire wouldn't lie! You know that." She looked accusingly at Harry, who sighed.

"Is there anyone else?" he asked. Tabitha almost felt bad for him – no Auror wanted to get family involved in their investigative work. She was lucky – her parents had moved out of the U.K. at the close of the war, but she'd seen how others in the office had been torn between blood and water, between the demands of relationships and the demands of the job.

"Yes," said Riley, shakily. "Professor Macmillan."

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Yes. He keeps spare wands. I asked him for one, and he lent it to me. It's on my bedside table – you must've seen it."

They had.

"This was two days ago," she continued. "So you see – I'd lost my wand before this happened. Maybe I dropped it on the top of the Astronomy Tower by accident. I don't know."

"That's all for now, Riley," said Harry, softly. "We'll verify everything you've said and get back to you. Until then, please stay here."

"And don't even think about trying to escape," snapped Tabitha, as they got up. "We've asked Mr. Knobbles to stay outside the door at all times."

(x)

"Even if Professor Macmillan vouches for her having lost her wand, we don't know that she actually did," mused Tabitha, as they walked back to Professor McGonagall's office.

"Come again?"

"She could've hidden her wand, and asked for a spare to make it seem like she'd lost it."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's a fairly clever move for a fourteen year-old to make."

Tabitha exhaled. For the first time since Robards' patronus had woken her up, she felt exhausted – the tiredness had spread from her bones into the crevices of her mind.

This case – she hated this case. The evidence went one way, the testimonies the other, her instincts another. It was like she was lost in a twisted, topsy-turvy maze that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get out of.

"Tell me who else could've done it," she said, at last. "Give me evidence – hard evidence – that it wasn't Riley Carrow. Then maybe we'll think about someone else. But until then – she's our girl."

.oOo.

VIII: Morals

Every decision Teddy Lupin made was strongly guided by a single moral principle: do the right thing.

Unfortunately, he was quickly learning that doing the right thing wasn't always simple.

"You have to tell!" exclaimed Ella, for what must have been the millionth time since the conversation had began. "The fact that you're even considering not telling is – "

She broke off, but her meaning was crystal clear. Stupid. Ridiculous. Unfair. The guilt in Teddy's stomach tightened.

"We know, Ella," moaned Alfie, crossing his arms defensively. "It's just –"

"Just what? Just what?"

"We can't throw Daisy under the bus," finished Teddy quietly.

Victoire snorted. "Because she's always been so loyal to you."

"That's besides the point –"

"No, that's exactly the point –"

"No, it's not!" The sharpness of his tone surprised him; Victoire recoiled slightly. "Daisy might be…a…"

"Bitch," supplied Ella.

Teddy shot her a look. "I was going to say she might not be a very nice person, but that doesn't mean we should just betray her –"

"'Betray' is a funny word," snapped Victoire. Teddy had never heard her speak so derisively. "If you don't speak up, you'll be betraying Riley."

"And that's why this is such a catch-22. It's either Daisy or Riley. And Daisy –" he broke off, trying to put into words the feeling he'd had ever since he'd seen her swan past him in the corridor. "Something was off about her."

"I don't understand why you're protecting Daisy!" exclaimed Victoire angrily. "She's not the victim here – she's guilty. She committed a crime. And Riley's done nothing."

"I know that – "

"Tabitha James hates Riley. She'll do anything to make sure she's expelled – or worse."

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is," said Alfie, quietly. Teddy looked at him in shock, and he shrugged. "She told me – in her first interview with Tabitha, Tabitha accused her of knowing things about the kidnapped children because of who her family is."

"I –" Teddy faltered. The guilt twisted around his stomach and squeezed, hard. "I didn't know.

Victoire lifted her chin and looked straight into Teddy's eyes, her blue ones burning with fiery determination: "You're always doing the right thing, Teddy. Help Riley. Now."

She was right.

Riley had done nothing wrong, and, if for whatever reason, the Aurors had reason to suspect she was guilty, she would be punished for something she had no part in. True, sometimes he didn't like Riley sometimes, but he didn't like Daisy either.

But what if Daisy was expelled? Or got thrown into Azkaban, based solely on what he and Alfie had seen? He wasn't sure he'd be able to bear it – knowing that someone was suffering because of him.

Ella, perceptive as always, seemed to understand what he was thinking.

"You don't have to tell," she said softly.

Victoire's head snapped towards her. "What do you mean?" she said, accusingly.

"I mean, Teddy doesn't have to tell. We could leave an anonymous note outside McGonagall's door telling her what really happened last night – "

"That won't work," said Victoire, impatiently. "You'll need to know the password to get through the gargoyle."

"It just so happens I do," responded Ella, somewhat smugly. "All the prefects do, in case of emergency. We can get in, put the note down, and get out. They'll question Daisy, and if Tabitha James is as good at her job as everyone says she is, they'll realise Daisy's guilty and Riley's not."

Teddy was suddenly reminded of the anonymous letter he had sent Tabitha James months ago, about Ella's theories regarding the kidnappings. He wondered for a split second whether it had made any difference, but pushed the thought out of his mind. This wasn't the time.

"An anonymous note," mused Alfie. "So no one would know it was us."

"Exactly." Ella paused, glancing at their expressions. "What do you think?"

It still didn't sit well with him – the acids in his stomach churned, and his heart thudded heavily against his chest – but he knew it had to be done. It was preferable, anyway, to directly talking to McGonagall. He wasn't sure he'd be able to tell her what he'd seen.

He nodded, slowly.

"Alfie?"

"Yeah," nodded the other, slowly. "Yeah."

"There's just one problem," interjected Victoire. "We're not supposed to leave the Hall. How are we going to get to McGonagall's office?"

A wry smile formed on Ella's lips. "Leave that to me."

.oOo.

IX: The Note

Ella Anderson was a criminal genius.

No, seriously. If the whole Hogwarts thing didn't work out, she could go into the Underworld and make a right buck.

First, she'd managed to convince Victoire to stay put. The blonde had been adamant that she should go with Teddy, Alfie and Ella to leave the anonymous note, but Ella was doubtful that she'd be able to get all four of them out of the Great Hall. Victoire continued to insist until Ella reasoned that they'd probably send Riley back to the Hall after receiving the note, and that it would be better for Victoire to be there when she arrived.

Teddy did not think it was likely that Riley would be immediately released, but he kept quiet, and Victoire acquiesced, however reluctantly.

The next phase was getting out of the Hall.

Ella zero-ed in on Professor Macmillan. She sidled up to him, Teddy and Alfie at a slight distance behind her, and spoke in a low voice:

"Professor—I need to go back to Ravenclaw tower."

Macmillan regarded her suspiciously. Teddy felt his heart sink.

"No one is meant to leave the Great Hall."

"No, Professor, you don't understand—I have to go back. For—er—feminine products."

It worked like a charm.

Men might be able to face dragons, but present them with female menstruation, and they crumble like sandstone.

Professor Macmillan's cheeks blushed, and breaking eye contact with Ella, he nodded awkwardly. "Well, I suppose—"

"Alfie and Teddy will be with me," said Ella confidently. "They won't let any harm come to me."

Teddy watched Macmillan closely, holding his breath. Letting Ella go was one thing, but all three of them? Slightly more unlikely.

Regardless, the Professor was still flustered. He waved a hand. "Go."

"I swear," muttered Alfie under his breath, as the trio quietly slipped through the door leading to the Great Hall, "I don't know how you do it."

(x)

The parchment felt like fire in his hand. He stared at it, wondering why it wasn't smoking, why the edges weren't turning black and acrid. He had written the note quickly and hurriedly, his quill scratching against the page as he tried desperately to clearly summarise what he had seen in the most objective manner possible.

No matter how he felt, it wasn't up to him to attempt to decipher this mess – to understand how Daisy fit into the wider picture. He was merely a messenger.

"Are you ready?" said Ella quietly.

Teddy stared at the gargoyle. This was the right thing to do. He knew it was the right thing to do. He didn't want Riley to take the fall for something she didn't do. Daisy had to face the consequences of her actions – even if he wasn't certain she was fully in control of them.

"Teddy?" Alfie prompted.

"Yes."

All the best laid plans rely on certain assumptions. That no one will be at home, that it won't rain, that the trains will run on time. Most of the time, those assumptions prove correct. But if there's one thing the universe hates, it's predictability. Complacency.

And so, every now and then, in the name of variety, those assumptions are proven wrong.

The gargoyle sprang to life.

Teddy turned to Ella: "I didn't hear you say the password."

"I didn't." There was a clear undertone of panic in her voice.

They could hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A more foolhardy person might have tried to make a run for it, but the trio remained rooted to the spot, hardly able to think, let alone come up with an effective escape plan. Teddy felt as if time was drawing to a halt – he could feel the pressure building in his muscles for the second time in twenty-four hours, and yet he couldn't think clearly, couldn't figure out what to do except wait and watch as Professor McGonagall descended from her office and came to stand in front of them, surprise etched across her face.

There was silence as the headmistress surveyed her students, her questioning gaze landing on each of them in turn. Teddy found himself unable to meet her eyes.

"Hello, Professor," Alfie managed, sheepishly. Ella shot him a look.

"All students are meant to be in the Great Hall," she began slowly, her voice stern. "For their own safety. I would not have expected any one of you to so carelessly shirk that rule to roam the corridors aimlessly."

Silence.

"It wasn't aimless." Ella's voice was barely a whisper.

"You will have to speak up, Miss Anderson."

"It wasn't aimless," she repeated. Her voice was louder, but still shaky. "We…we wanted to give you something."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows had practically reached her hairline. "And what was so important that it couldn't wait?"

Ella and Alfie looked expectantly at Teddy.

It was the right thing to do.

Was it?

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding the crumpled parchment out. "This."

Professor McGonagall surveyed him for a moment before taking it. She unfurled it and began to read, pressing her lips together as her eyes darted across the page. Teddy watched nervously, trying and failing to read her expression. A million questions swirled in his mind: would she believe them? Or would she think it was some sort of twisted lie – a made-up tale to get revenge on Daisy Shipkins for her past actions? He couldn't tell.

When she finally looked up, her expression was grim. "I think you had better come in."

(x)

Of all the people Teddy had expected to see in Professor McGonagall's office, his godfather was not one of them.

To be entirely fair, his uncle probably wasn't expecting to see him either. His confusion was palpable as Professor McGonagall strode in, still holding the piece of parchment, with Teddy, Ella and Alfie trailing after her. And while it made sense to Teddy that Harry was there, given that he was an auror, Harry probably had very little understanding of why Teddy, who was, after all, supposed to be safe and sound in the Great Hall, had made an appearance in the Headmistress' Office.

Tabitha James was equally confused. She stared at the three children before rising from her chair, surprise written across her face, and opening her mouth to speak.

Professor McGonagall cut her off: "Potter, I imagine you know these three."

"Of course," said Harry. He smiled at Teddy, but there was still confusion in his eyes. "James, this is Teddy Lupin, Ella Anderson and Alfie Hayes."

Tabitha nodded at them, and Alfie raised a hand in an awkward wave before lowering it quickly.

"Forgive me for asking, Professor," said Harry slowly, "but why are they here?"

McGonagall handed him the note. Teddy shuffled uncomfortably as Harry scanned it. Tabitha leaned over his shoulder to read it, her face the picture of stoic concentration. He hadn't quite banked on this: leaving an anonymous note outside McGonagall's door was one thing, but watching it being examined by aurors was very much another – particularly as he knew that as soon as they were done, the questions would begin. He could feel Ella and Alfie next to him, equally nervous.

He wasn't wrong. As soon as she was done, Tabitha looked up, her eyes zeroing in on Teddy.

"Why were you out last night at all?" she asked.

"Ella wasn't," said Teddy quickly, determined not to drag her into something she wasn't involved in. "It was just me and…er, Alfie and I."

"Still—why? Meeting up with your girlfriends?"

Alfie coloured.

"No," said Teddy, somewhat uncomfortably. "It was a full moon last night. I sometimes get…er…restless on full moons because my dad was a…er…well, he was a werewolf. I'm not, but I'm affected by the moon—I find it difficult to sleep, and I desperately want to be outside. Last night, I woke Alfie up and we snuck up to the Astronomy Tower because I needed fresh air."

Tabitha glanced at Harry questioningly.

"It's true," said the other auror, softly. "I've known Teddy since he was born. He's always been affected by the moon."

He also knew that Teddy hadn't been having as much trouble with the full moon recently, but he chose not to say anything. Teddy was grateful—it would simply lead to more difficult questions.

"This girl, this—" Tabitha looked down at the note, still clasped in her hands, "—Daisy Shipkins. Why do you think she'd cast the Dark Mark?"

"That's the thing. We don't know why she'd do it. She's never shown any sort of inclination towards the Dark Arts. When Alfie and I saw her face, we were shocked."

"No inclination at all? No offhand comments?"

"None," said Alfie quietly.

Harry bit his lip and looked at Tabitha, who glanced back. Their eyes met for a powerful, split second: it seemed like they were silently engaging in conversation.

"You're sure it was her?" Harry asked, at last. "The darkness can play tricks on the best of us."

"We're sure," replied Teddy confidently. "I wish we weren't, but we are."

"Did she see you?"

"No. It was weird, actually."

"Weird how?"

"We weren't that well-hidden," mused Alfie. "If it had been me in Daisy's place—not saying that it was me, but if it had been me, I'd have seen us. But she walked straight past us. She didn't even look."

Another glance passed between the Aurors and Teddy had the distinct feeling that he was missing something. The same thought had occurred to both of them at exactly the same time, yet they gave no indication to what it might be.

"Thank you," said Tabitha, her face grim. "We'll need to talk to Daisy. Until then, please return to the Great Hall and don't say a word to anyone about this. Potter, will you escort them?"

(x)

"I didn't know you were on the case," said Teddy to Harry, as soon as they had left the vicinity of the Headmistress's Office.

"I was a recent addition to the team," replied the Auror, ruffling his godson's hair.

"Good."

"Good?"

"It's good you're on it."

Teddy wasn't sure he trusted Tabitha anymore, not after what Victoire and Riley had told him. A flash of guilt ran through him when he remembered that, all those months ago, he'd sent Tabitha a note containing Ella's theories regarding the kidnappings. Had she done anything with it? Or had she simply disregarded it and thrown it away?

His train of throat was broken by Alfie's voice: "Mr. Potter?"

"Hm?"

He swallowed. "Will Daisy be punished?"

Harry let out a long, slow breath. The trio—even Ella, who was unusually quiet—looked at him expectantly.

"I don't know," he admitted at last.

"Mr. Potter?" Ella, this time.

"Yes, Ella?"

"Teddy said she was…" she paused, as if deciding how to put it, "different. Blank, almost. Do you think – well, is there a chance she was under the – " she broke off.

"Imperius curse?" Harry finished for her. Ella nodded.

It was as if the puzzle pieces had finally clicked into place. Of course. They had briefly studied Unforgiveables earlier in the year, with the promise of more detail to follow at N.E.W.T. Teddy was surprised it hadn't occurred to him before – Daisy's behaviour hadn't seemed to be of her own volition. It had been exactly like someone else was controlling her, metaphorically whispering commands in her ear. Turning her into their puppet.

The thought made him feel ill.

"It's possible," admitted Harry.

"How would you know for certain?" asked Teddy.

"Curse detection has improved substantially since the war, so we no longer have to rely on people testifying that they were under the Imperius. We can now determine whether someone was under the curse – and, in certain circumstances – who placed them under it."

A glimmer of hope. "So if it turns out she was under the Imperius, she won't be punished?"

"I can't promise anything," said Harry. "I know that's not what you want to hear, and I'm sorry. We'll do everything we can to make sure that someone who isn't responsible for her actions isn't punished incorrectly. But in a case like this –" he sighed. "The stakes are high. We'll do what we can, but it might be out of my hands."

The knot in Teddy's stomach tightened. He trusted his godfather more than he trusted anyone else, for he had been there for him through his entire life. And yet everything felt so uncertain.

"You did the right thing," Harry said softly. Teddy glanced up at him: his expression wasn't condescending or placating, but sincere. "I know it was hard for you. But you did the right thing."

Teddy forced a smile.

It was the right thing to do.

Was it?

He was quickly learning there was no such thing.

.oOo.

X: Questions, Answers

Daisy Shipkins was not what Tabitha James had expected.

She'd expected someone wide-eyed, innocent and gullible. Someone who'd grown up sheltered, protected. Someone who'd always followed rather than led.

In short – someone easily susceptible to the Imperius curse.

It was immediately evident to Tabitha that Daisy Shipkins was not that girl. She was sharp, perceptive even. The stereotypical mean girl, to whom popularity was everything and likeability nothing. She could tell by the way she sauntered into the room as if she owned the place, the way she folded her arms as she sat, a single eyebrow raised. Challenging.

As if she'd done nothing wrong.

For all Tabitha knew, she hadn't done anything wrong.

Tabitha was still inclined to suspect Riley Carrow. She hadn't told Potter as much, for she knew that he was likely to have unwavering faith in his godson. But she knew that Teddy was friends with Victoire, who was friends with Riley – it didn't take a genius to imagine that someone along the chain had brilliantly decided to invent an eyewitness story to help Riley escape blame.

And yet something in her gut told her it wasn't right.

Tabitha let Potter lead at the beginning, hoping Daisy would be too starstruck by the famous Harry Potter to realise that something was off – to question why she had been called in instead of any of the hundreds of children confined to the Great Hall. And while the girl's eyes barely moved from his lightning scar, she was quick to ask the one question Tabitha had been dreading:

"Why am I here?"

"We just want to get an idea of what the atmosphere was like in the castle before the incident," said Harry, soothingly.

Good, thought Tabitha. No suggestion that they were attempting to tie her to the incident itself.

Daisy nodded, slowly. "But why me?"

Tabitha surveyed her, running her tongue across her teeth before speaking: "Because you seem like the kind of girl who knows what's going on."

A smirk. The popularity angle worked. "I suppose."

"So tell us, Daisy. What was going on?"

Daisy shrugged, settling back in her chair. "Nothing, really. Macey Longstone chipped a tooth at Quidditch practice, so everyone in the Common Room was too busy listening to her tell the tale to focus on anything else before dinner. Then at dinner, Walter Hopkins nearly choked on a noodle, but nothing else happened. It was just normal. Annoyingly so."

Harry nodded. "Sounds like it. What did you do after dinner?"

"I had a Transfiguration essay due in this morning, so I went up to the library."

"How long were you there?"

She took a split second too long to answer.

This was not a difficult question.

"About an hour, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Yeah." Shuffle, eye flick. "I wasn't really keeping an eye on the time."

Now Tabitha was interested.

"Were you with anyone?"

"No."

"Was anyone else in the library?"

Hesitation. Again. Not a difficult question.

Harry seemed to pick up on this too. "Sorry – silly question, I know, the library's always busy."

Daisy laughed. Tabitha detected uneasiness.

"What I meant was – was there anyone out of the ordinary? Someone you didn't recognise, maybe?"

"No. I don't think so. Why, do you think the person who cast the mark went to the library?"

Harry chuckled goodnaturedly. "No, but we figured we'd check for good measure."

"Be weird if they did."

"Agreed. Unless they needed to look something up beforehand."

"You would think they'd have taken care of that earlier."

"Of course." Harry glanced down at his notes. "So when you were in the library – did you

So – and sorry, I'm just trying to get my timeline straight here – when did you say you headed back to your dormitory? Two hours later, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Oh, he was good.

Tabitha very rarely considered anyone else with admiration, and yet even she had to admit that Potter was doing brilliantly. He'd lulled Daisy into a state of complacency by letting her spin the conversation into a point where she thought she was in control. He'd let her deviate from the topic, and when he'd brought her back, she'd contradicted herself. Which meant one of two things: either she was lying, or she didn't remember.

She could feel Potter shift his weight next to her, and she knew that was her cue.

"Two hours?" she said, silkily, shifting herself forward so that her forearms were on the table.

"Yes, that's right."

"Didn't you say one hour earlier?"

Daisy's cheeks flushed. "No. No I'm fairly sure I said two."

"Right. And you went straight back to your dormitory?"

"Yes. I mean, I may have stopped at the bathroom or something –"

"May have?"

"Yeah, I – "

"You don't remember?"

She could feel Potter tensing slightly beside her, but she knew what she was doing – and to his credit, he did not intervene.

"Of course I do, I – "

"Did anyone see you enter the Hufflepuff Common Room?"

"No. I don't think so."

"But it wasn't late. Surely someone would have."

"I don't think anyone did." She shifted in her seat. The redness in her cheeks was more pronounced now. It was working. "I was tired, I went straight to bed. I wasn't paying attention. Look – what are you accusing me of?"

"Nothing. If no one saw you enter the Common Room, then your dorm-mates must have seen you enter your dorm." She pulled a piece of parchment towards her and took up a quill. "Can I have their names please?"

"Why do you need their names?"

"For good measure. We can ask them if they saw you enter."

"You don't need to ask them, they would have seen me."

"Then you shouldn't have any problem giving us their names."

"You don't understand – they… they hate me. They'd do anything to see me kicked out of school! They'll lie to you - they'll tell you they didn't see me." She was practically on the verge of tears now.

Tabitha stepped back.

"Daisy," said Harry, in that smooth, placating voice of his. "We just need someone to corroborate your story."

"But why? Why won't you just believe me? Why do you think I did this?"

"We never said you did."

"But you're implying it!" The tears were flowing freely now and Tabitha thanked her stars that Professor McGonagall was not here to see this, for she would surely put a stop to it. Technically, they should put a stop to it – she was a minor, and clearly distressed. But they were so close.

"Daisy –"

"I didn't do it! I didn't!"

"Daisy. I believe you didn't do it knowingly. And I promise we will try our best to help you." Harry's voice was soft, but firm. "But I need to ask you one thing. One thing and then I promise we'll stop. Is that okay?"

Tabitha tried to hide her impatience as the girl sobbed. Eventually, she gathered her composure enough to nod weakly.

"After you went to the library – do you remember anything from last night?"

Tabitha felt every muscle in her body tense. She stared at Daisy, unable to blink, worried that if she did she would miss the one thing – whatever it was to be – that was going to clarify everything.

"No," gasped Daisy. "I don't remember anything."

Harry nodded slowly. "So from what you've told us –"

"I remember going to the library. Then I remember waking up in my bed." Her eyes widened, scared. "Please don't arrest me. I would never do something like this. I don't even know that I did do it."

"We won't arrest you. But we do need to call someone in."

---

A/N: lockdown made me do it. More to come. If you're one of those who knows how this ends - please don't spoil it for others.