For once, my update is on time!

Thanks to Asho-Caro-Lynn, creelluka, Clove1113, rainyleafxoxo, BowOfTheGods, Winterlover6, HdesHera and the three Guests for reviewing! (No way to tell if the mysterious one is still there).

Asho-Caro-Lynn, thanks for spotting my mistake last chapter: it should be Rabastan not Regulus who squeals (please, Regulus squealing?) I'm glad you all liked Rabastan's swift foray into the life of a transvestite (how I wish I had a picture, but I don't know whether I'd be able to draw it or where to post it, any ideas?) and are still on the Sirius-hating bandwagon! Hoopefully you enjoy this chapter just as much!

'Today, we will be working on something that many of you have been waiting for since you first set foot in this room,' Professor Archedis said, sweeping into the class clad in his usual deep purple robes. 'There are only two months left of school and though the seventh-years have already covered this last year, it is imperative to the N.E.W.T exams.'

The sixth-to-seventh year students of Arithmancy sat up a little straighter in their seats. Emma kept her back firmly entrenched against the wall. She hadn't minded sitting next to Diggory before, but now everything about him made her want to sneer. Weakling, her mind whispered. He had broken off everything but minimum contact ever since Lucinda had let slip her "relationship" with Regulus. She rolled her eyes at the memory. Unfortunately, she was stuck next to him in class. The teacher chalked up a huge number seven on the blackboard.

'The magical property of different numbers,' he announced dramatically. 'All those who want to work in Gringotts or in the Improper Use of Magic Office later, listen up. The souls of numbers are the keys to understanding magical locks, analysing curses and tracing magic.'

Emma stopped doodling on her page, giving the class her full attention.

'Numbers don't have souls, professor,' one Ravenclaw said sceptically.

'Ah but that is where you are wrong, my dear,' Professor Archedis explained. 'They do not have them in the strict sense of the term, but each number is imbued with a unique magical signature. Each witch or wizard also has a magical signature formed with seven to thirteen numbers. The more numbers there are, the stronger the caster. Now, identifying magical signatures is part of a different class, since it involves a lot of practical study and there is no real theory to it. However, each sensation is associated with a number, which allows the signature to be filed away in a more permanent manner. As for locks and curses, the numbers used to identify them are often more to do with the nature of what the lock or curse protects. This does not apply to curses cast on humans, only inanimate objects.

'Today's lesson will begin by learning the properties of the two most magical numbers known to the Wizarding World: three and seven. The seven is more representative of the essence of magic, the power behind the manifestation of spells and the like, whereas the number three deals with magic across time: past present and future. Time-turners, for example, have a magical signature of "7337" to represent the projection of the caster across the past and the present. In order to use the future, another three would have to be added to the magical signature, though the spell to attune the object to this combination has not yet been found. Harmony is the key to any magical object: any wrong move or imbalance will result in harmful consequences. As such, curses are generally created with a slight imbalance, to make them all the more dangerous. Without fail, curses have a two in their sequence, because it represents balance. Alas, that is a subject for another lesson. Turn your books to page 394.'

There was a flurry of movement and furrowed brows as the students realised that page 394 was just the beginning of a ten page chapter on the number seven. Soon all noise had died down save for the flick of a page or a scribble of a note here or there. When a knock came at the door twenty minutes later, several students jumped at the sudden noise. Professor Archedis quickly moved to quietly speak with the intruder in the hallway. Instead of going back to their reading, the students strained to listen to the heated conversation carried out in whispers in the corridor. Professor Archedis was known for his flamboyant personality and no-interruption rule in his classes. He maintained that it was detrimental to learning such a difficult subject. Rumour had it that he had even forbidden the headmaster from entering unless the situation was urgent. Unfortunately, the Professor had closed the door, so they could only hear the murmur of hushed voices.

Presently, the door was opened again and a harried-looking Arithmancy teacher came back in, stopping to Emma's surprise in front of their desk. 'Miss Potter, it seems that your presence is required in the Headmaster's office. Collect your things and don't you worry about the homework for this week, my dear.'

Something about the way the usually passionate teacher brushed this important topic aside, or maybe the way his eyes softened pityingly alerted Emma to the gravity of the situation. Her heart seemed to plummet to the bottom of the stomach the way a stone would in the Black Lake and she gathered her things, not even bothering to bottle her ink before rushing out of the room. She had expected someone to be in the corridor, but the hallway was empty. Throwing the ink in a nearby bin, she shoved everything else in her schoolbag and sprinted down the corridor, keeping a running monologue in her head all the while, it has to be something about mum, but maybe they just said it was something about the hospital. Maybe she's better now... What if Dad's got Dragon Pox too? Merlin, I don't think I could handle both of them being ill...

She almost missed the gargoyle so wrapped up in her thoughts was she. As she burst into the office, she found the white-haired headmaster looking kindly down his nose at her. After several seconds of her panting to catch her breath and Dumbledore just standing there in silence examining her, she couldn't take it anymore.

'Well? Why am I here?'

She realised that she was being rude, but the headmaster was so infuriating, withholding any information, that she thought that she could just hex his calm expression right off of his face.

'I apologise, Miss Potter, but the Portkey left a five minutes before you arrived,' he replied calmly. 'Sherbet lemon?'

Emma looked at him incredulously. 'What has happened to my mother?' she demanded.

'Please sit,' he motioned towards the chair in front of his desk with an elegant sweep of his hand. 'I apologise for not saying this sooner. Your mother has woken up and the doctors say that she is well enough for them to safely say that the worst should be over.'

Emma's whole body seemed to deflate with relief and she welcomed the support of the chair. Some good news at last, she thought with a smile.

'Your brother and Mr Black are with her now. She is only allowed up to two visitors at a time,' Dumbledore offered by way of explanation.

Emma knew that she should be furious at the fact that Sirius Black got priority over her to see her own mother, but she was too relieved to summon the energy. Besides, he had probably insisted on accompanying James as they shared mostly every class together. Emma was happy that she only had to see the git in Potions and Muggle Studies.

'It has come to my understanding that Mr Black has taken up residence in the Potter house,' the headmaster seemed to insist on wanting to make small talk. She kept her mouth shut, letting him continue. 'How do you feel about this arrangement?'

'Excuse-me sir, but I don't see how this affects me going to visit my mother,' she replied politely, when it became clear that a response was necessary.

'I make it my business to care about the welfare of my students,' he said pleasantly.

It took all she had to hold in her snort of contempt. 'If you don't mind me saying so, if you already know about Sirius coming to stay with us, then you probably also already know about my view on the situation... sir.'

'That much is true,' he agreed, his eyes twinkling as if they shared some private joke.

It immediately annoyed Emma - what happened over Christmas was certainly no joke to her. She stiffened and looked away, intent on ignoring Dumbledore for the next twenty minutes. However, he carried on.

'Pardon me if I have offended you, Miss Potter,' Emma immediately raised her Occlumency walls, 'but I feel very strongly about House unity, particularly in these trying times. I am pleased that you have accepted Sirius into your home and hope that you will continue to make him feel welcome there.'

Emma completely ignored this last sentence. She didn't know why James liked Dumbledore so much, but she was starting to agree with Narcissa and Lucius. Either he knew exactly what had transpired over those holidays and the ensuing months and was pressuring her to ignore everything that Sirius had done, or he really was just a bumbling fool. And he didn't look like the latter. One thing was certain, he definitely favoured Gryffindors. She wondered if he had been placed there himself.

Instead she observed the office with interest, looking at the many portraits of old headmasters. There were none of the Four Founders though. Maybe they would have put too much pressure on the current headmaster for them to be present here. The phoenix was resting in a corner of the room and she admired his colourful plumage until an old lamp reappeared on Dumbledore's desk. Her attention immediately snapped back to the headmaster.

'You may leave now, Miss Potter,' the old man motioned towards the Portkey.

'Where's James?' she asked. She had expected Sirius and her brother to reappear along with it.

'They have been sent through the Floo network to their Head of House's office,' Dumbledore explained. 'After your visit is over, you will also be transported to Professor Slughorn's study.'

Emma nodded in understanding, before a familiar tug at her navel sent the headmaster's office spinning into space.

Her surroundings were replaced with the stark white walls of St Mungo's hospital. She gave an unsure glance around; it appeared that she was in the lobby. There was a waiting room just behind her and a series of lifts to the left. To the right there was a long, light corridor that she supposed led to the hospital's gardens. A receptionist's desk was directly opposite her, so she made her way to that.

'Um... I'm here to see Mrs Natalie Potter?' she asked timidly.

'Who are you?' the witch asked dully, not looking up from her papers.

'Her daughter,' she replied, fighting the urge to fidget.

'Huh, I was told she only had two children,' the witch replied, looking at her curiously.

'Yes, and I'm one of them. Emma Potter,' she added her name, rather helpfully.

'Strange, because two boys came up claiming to be her sons,' the receptionist said, still in that calm, curious tone of voice.

The witch was starting to get on her nerves now. How hard would it have been to check the hospital's records of every birth? On top of that, how dare Sirius take her place? If Emma wasn't allowed to see her sick mother because of that twit, then she didn't know what she would do. Kick up a fuss, maybe, but she doubted that it would get her in. She tried to wait patiently as the witch decided to send a few notes asking permission, but suddenly, she had enough. Since when did she need permission to visit family?

'Look here,' she started, about to tell the witch just what she thought of her and where she could shove a broom if she happened across one, but luckily the receptionist was saved by a Healer appearing.

'Ah, they told me you'd be here. Emma, is it?' the wizard asked in a brisk, but kindly manner.

Emma nodded, shooting a dark look at the receptionist. The latter didn't even bat an eyelash. In fact, Emma realised that she had been sucking on a gobstopper the whole time they had been talking. As if sensing tension, the middle-aged wizard motioned her down the corridor.

'Right, I'm Healer Crawley, your mother's assigned mediwizard. Mrs Potter is on the second floor in the Magical Bugs and Diseases ward. If you would just follow me.'

Emma followed the Healer so closely that she was almost tripping on his shoes in her impatience. The lift seemed to take an age, but soon they were out and hurrying along another white corridor.

'In here,' the Healer said, motioning towards a private room.

Emma burst through the door with a cry of "Mum!", startling her parents. Natalie Potter's wan face broke into a broad grin, whereas Charles jumped off of the side of the bed. She ran to the bedside to hug her mother, but a nurse she hadn't noticed before stopped her.

'I'm sorry, Miss Potter, but no contact with the patient is allowed until she's signed out of the hospital. It's hospital regulation for contagious diseases.'

The witch really did look very sorry and thoughtfully left the room. She had probably done this with James and Sirius too, since she told Natalie Potter to "just give a ring like last time" if something went amiss. So Emma went and sat on the stool next to her mother's bed, drinking in the sight of her. Natalie Potter's face was as bony as it had been filled out before Emma had left at Christmas and her eyes had sunk into their sockets. Her skin was tinged green and there were purple rashes along her forearms. She noticed her daughter's line of sight and pulled the sleeves of her hospital robes down. Her hands were pockmarked though, as if a thousand little circles had been pressed into her skin. But Emma's mother's eyes were just how she remembered them: blue like her own and bright and clear, lit up with that inner warmth that is always associated with mothers.

''Why weren't you here before?' Charles asked, bordering on accusatory.

Natalie shot him a look, but Emma was so relieved to see her mother alive and - almost - well that she didn't notice her father's tone. 'I was in the Arithmancy tower when the teacher came to get me. By the time I got to the headmaster's office, James and Sirius had already taken the Portkey. It was only made for two,' she added, with a slight hint of reproach. 'I had to wait until they had left the ward.'

'I guess I should have mentioned that Sirius was like family now,' her mother chuckled. 'I'm sorry dear, I didn't know that you would be denied a visit because there was an extra person.'

This was the time when Emma usually would have insisted on the fact that Sirius was more like family than she was, that they couldn't even be bothered to remember her, but she couldn't bring herself to argue right now. It seemed like her father felt the same way, because he didn't bring up the subject that Sirius had managed to get to the Portkey on time as he certainly would have six months ago.

'How are you feeling?' Emma asked the mandatory question.

'If I had a Knut for every time someone asked me that,' Natalie laughed again, but it soon turned into a cough. Emma looked alarmed, but her mother hushed her with a sign, taking a long drink from the water on her bedside table. 'I'm fine really, just a little tired. My throat aches from the sparks coming up from when I coughed - apparently Dragon Pox can burn the insides of your throat, making it itch. But there aren't any sparks any more, and I'm feeling much more awake than I have in a long time.'

'I guess that's good to know,' Emma said doubtfully. Burnt throats didn't sound "well" at all.

'It is good,' Charles said firmly. 'And it's good that you came to visit too. We were worried that you weren't going to come when your brother showed up.'

'The thought never crossed my mind,' Emma replied solemnly.

They were all quiet for a moment, until Natalie made an effort to brighten up the mood.

'So Emma,' she said. 'Tell us all about your Hogwarts life since Christmas.'

Emma gratefully launched into an explanation about her Quidditch matches and how she had managed to trick James enough to win the Quidditch Cup. She told them about the prefects' meeting on the House Cup, though neglected to mention the cheating part, electing laughter from both of her parents. She talked about her recent Arithmancy class to her mother, who had been waiting for the moment Emma would deal with locks and curses in order to be able to better discuss it.

To her father, she recounted their exploits in Potions and her new-found friendship with Lily Evans, the girl James was in love with. They theorised on whether James might actually get the girl and Lily's mellowing attitude towards the last Potter. She refrained from mentioning the fight at her birthday party and the tasks the Dark Lord had set for Regulus and herself, and in return Charles bit back harsh words whenever she talked about Rabastan and Lucinda. It was starting to feel like they might make up for the past six years, that Natalie's illness wasn't for nothing after all, when disaster struck.

It happened when the half an hour was almost up, when Emma got up to go and her mother was positively glowing at having her family back in one piece. Charles had reached into his cloak and told her that they had wanted to give James and her their birthday presents together, but also wanted them to have them before the N.E.W.T.s. James had been delighted with his, and so they had saved hers for the end in the same manner.

'Happy Birthday!' the parents chorused, and Emma opened the box to reveal the traditional wizarding watch.

Each was slightly different, unique to the family or parents who chose it. Hers was a delicate golden colour, with brooms as hands pointing towards tiny roman numerals on a white background. There was another, smaller hand, which Emma had inquired about.

'It measures magic,' her mother said breathlessly. It was obvious that Natalie had been bursting to tell her about this. 'It measures the magic in the air, its power and potential danger. It also measures its difficulty: red is for danger, whereas green is harmless. The size grows in accordance to the spell's power and width for its difficulty. We thought it would be perfect for when you want to be a Curse-breaker.'

'Thank you,' Emma felt a rush of gratitude and emotion.

Her parents hadn't forgotten her, they had been reading her letters when she thought that Charles couldn't care less, and they had poured so much thought into the gift that she felt a lump appear in her throat. Her father beamed as he took the watch out and asked to put it on her wrist. As was tradition, she held her left hand out. And that was when time seemed to stop.

Charles had pushed back Emma's sleeve so that it wouldn't get caught in the clasp. That was when he noticed the dark red tendrils creeping down her wrist. The tattoo had faded quite a lot since it had first been branded onto her, but it was still very noticeable. Too late, Emma remembered and tried to pull her hand away, but the damage had been done. Her father grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled her sleeve up to the elbow, exposing the Dark Mark in all of its skeletal glory. The skull seemed to be laughing, the twisting snake that Emma usually found so fascinating menacing in the glaring hospital lights. The colour left Charles's face and he let go as though he had been stung.

As if in slow motion, the watch went tumbling from his grip. The three Potters watched its descent through the air and saw it touch the ground a split second before they heard the sound of shattering glass. The gold should have been sturdy enough to survive the fall, logically the glass frame should have only been cracked, but the whole watch split into pieces. Every link of the chain was broken, and in that moment it seemed to sever every link that Charles and Emma had worked so hard to repair. Emma's heart felt like the glass, so fragile that anything could shatter it, and the silence was the only thing that kept it at bay.

In a gallant effort to save her family, Natalie Potter got out of bed without a word to gather each tiny piece of the watch. It was painful to watch - her arms and legs were skeletal and she had to lean on the bed from the effort that a simple crouch required. Charles stared at her, thunderstruck, whilst Emma seemed to come to her senses.

'Mum, you shouldn't be out of bed,' she said, moving to help her.

'Don't. You. Dare. Touch. Her.' Charles hissed angrily.

The two women stopped in their tracks. Emma felt an odd vibrating in her chest. Please don't do this, Dad, she tried to say with her eyes, but there was no trace of her father left in the man standing before her.

'Stay away from her,' he continued in the same menacing tone, now advancing towards her. Emma cowered despite herself. How could this man be the same loving father she remembered from her youth? 'How dare you, after all we've done for you. After all you've put us through, after all we've forgiven, it turns out that I was right. You're a good-for-nothing Slytherin and I should have disowned you from the day you were sorted. Who knows what kind of danger you'd bring to our doorstep? And now…That thing…That's the sign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Tell me one thing, is it in admiration of him slaughtering innocents, or did you actually join his cause?'

'Dad, you don't understand,' Emma said quickly. 'If only you'd let me explain-'

'That response is all the explanation I need,' he cut through shortly.

'Mum,' Emma turned pleading to her mother, who made a move to reach out to her. But Charles took Natalie's hand in his own.

'Don't you dare take advantage of an ill woman, criminal. I don't even recognise the girl I raised.'

'I haven't done anything wrong! You didn't raise me anyway, Mum did! You just sat there, judging me and coming up short every time. Mum, please, you understand, don't you? You still believe in me, don't you?'

Natalie Potter looked from husband to daughter and took her hand out of Charles's. She opened her mouth to speak, but Charles pulled on her alarm bell before either of them could react.

'You have lost the right to call my wife your mother. From now on, neither will you have a father. You've clearly chosen where your loyalties lie. As far as I'm concerned, I never had a daughter.'

Emma was desperate. Out of all of their fights, this was the worst. She needed her mother to speak, to tell her father off as she had in first year and give Emma a chance to explain. But the nurse arrived too quickly for Natalie to interject, so instead she ran to her mother's side, to hold her hand at least one last time if her father was going to forbid them from seeing each other.

'The girl has gone quite mad,' her father said. 'She is upsetting my wife, whom she is not allowed to touch. Please remove her from our presence.'

'Come along dear,' the nurse said immediately, kindly, as if she was used to visiting relatives trying to break the rules.

She put a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder. Emma tried to fight back, grasping the doorway to reach out with her other arm and she could have sworn that her mother had stretched out her fingers too. They were half a centimetre apart, when the nurse finally had enough and took her by the waist, physically dragging her out of the room.

'It's for your own good,' the nurse said crossly, as if talking to a petulant child. 'Your mother may still be contagious.'

But as she was escorted out, Emma could have sworn that she heard a faint voice calling her name.