RECAP
So over Christmas vacation, Julie and Amy's mum is killed. Julie gets back to school and immediately beats Mulciber up for saying something derogatory about Muggles. James and Lily separately decide to watch out for Julie: Lily's sympathetic because her own mum died in fifth year, James knows that his dad has some sort of connection to Julie's family. Mulciber, meanwhile, is investigating a secret passage that might get someone out of, or into, Hogwarts. Julie and Sirius start going out—not that they actually go on any dates—and nobody's happy about it, especially James.

XIV. The Birthday Party

Remus, Lily and Marlene had been meeting in the library every Saturday of that winter to practice nonverbal spells, but early in March Remus fell ill, and the two girls were alone.

"I need to talk to you," was the first thing Lily said when she got to their table.

"Please, Miss Evans, nonverbal," said Marlene, pursing her lips in a terrible imitation of Professor McGonagall.

"No, actually. We need to talk about Nigel."

"What Nigel?" Marlene asked pertly, familiar as she was with every conversation her best friend had had with James Potter in the last year. Lily rolled her eyes.

"He asked me to Hogsmeade again."

"Well, that's sort of unimaginative, but he doesn't have many options, I suppose. Are you going?"

"Yeah, I thought I would," said Lily. "It's in a few weeks."

"You fancy him?" Marlene asked, blue eyes widening.

"I don't know," said Lily thoughtfully. "He's nice...easy to talk to..he's sort of mellow, you know? Just very calm."

"So...you don't."

"Ah, I, I mean, I could. I'd like to give him a chance. We haven't seen each other that much."

"Oh, come on," said Marlene scathingly, "that's not how it works! You can't not know if you fancy a boy or not."

Lily just looked at her.

"Anyway," Marlene went on, "I think you should go on this date, if that's what you want. But that's it, then you have to make a decision, and be honest with the bloke. Tell him you're not interested—or tell him you are, if you are," she added, clearly skeptical, "but don't waste your time!"

"I'm not...uhhh..."

Marlene patted the back of Lily's head. "You're terrible at this."

"Thanks, Mar," said Lily. She dragged a textbook across the table and flipped it open. "Can we practice counter-jinxes?"

"Sure. While we're talking about your bad decisions, what are you trying to do with Mulciber?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Do you seriously think he should be practice-duelling with Julie? Do you want him to be killed?"

"Frankly, I wouldn't mind."

"Do you want Julie to be expelled?"

"Frankly, I wouldn't mind."

"Ha ha."

"No, I'm not joking. Remember when she broke my Red Caps record?"

"I fixed that."

"Yeah, but there's a skip in the chorus of 'Charmed'..."

"—which is a terrible song, so who cares."


Shadows slid across the corridors and through doorways, hid behind tapestries, shivered down staircases. Remus was in the Hospital Wing that night, and in the small hours of the morning his three best friends were heading back to their rooms, going separate ways. Amy was a shadow as well, tip-toeing down to the fifth floor, making her way across the castle. An amateur, she turned every time she heard a sound, but she didn't hear Peter and Sirius, ducking behind a suit of armor.

Sirius rolled his eyes, knowing that it was too dark for Peter to see him. He wished James had given him the cloak, wished James was with them instead of making his way back to Gryffindor Tower alone. (For "I fancy a walk," read "I'm still mad at you.") And now there was someone in the hallway, trying to creep past. It was a student, he could tell, because the footsteps were too timid to belong to anyone who should be there. He could hear breathing, too, light and shallow. Then he caught sight of her profile and swore softly.

She froze. "Who's there?" said Amy, voice much higher than usual. There was a brief moment, and then Sirius came out of his hiding place, Peter stumbling behind him.

"Oh," she said, looking at him nervously.

"Oh," said Peter at the same time.

Sirius sighed. "It's past your bedtime, Junior."

Amy wrinkled her forehead. "So? Are you going to turn me in? Don't call me that."

"Where are you going?"

She crossed her arms defensively over her chest. The full moon had set, and it was hard to read her expression, but she looked upset. She was wearing pajamas, a matching flannel set, and although she did look very much like her sister, he could not imagine Julie looking so young, so sad, so afraid.

"Amy, curfew exists for a reason," he said, bending down to look her in the eye. Peter snorted behind him, clearly aware of the irony of the situation, but Sirius ignored him. "The teachers make it sound like it's just, you know, discipline, but it actually can be dangerous. You're lucky you ran into us and not a lot of Slytherins."

Amy did not look as if she felt very lucky. "I'm just going to Ravenclaw Tower," she said softly. "I only wanted to see Ella."

"Who's that?"

Peter spoke up. "Ella Greenbaum? She's another third year, I think. Why do you have to see her in the middle of the night?"

Amy twisted her hands in the hem of her shirt, and did not respond.

"Oh," said Sirius, straightening up. "You're having bad dreams."

She looked up and met his eyes. Hers were big and dark, faint starlight reflected in them. She nodded.

Peter was frowning. "I don't understand. You're going all the way across the castle at two in the morning, just to talk to your friend? Can you even get into Ravenclaw Tower? Your sister's in your dorm, why don't you wake Julie up?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." Sirius said cuttingly. He thought for a moment before he spoke to Amy. "I'll walk you there."

"Why?" asked Peter.

"You don't have to," said Amy, at the same time.

"Because it's not safe," said Sirius. "Come on. If you don't run into Mulciber you'll get caught by a teacher."

"Mulciber?" Amy frowned. "What would he be doing out?"

"Meet you back at the dorm, Pete."

Peter hesitated a moment and then shrugged. "All right," he said, and he slouched off alone. Sirius waited until he was out of sight before he set off in the opposite direction. Amy scurried after him.

Once she caught up to him, they walked in silence, side by side. Sirius had his hands in his pockets and he was frowning, deep in thought.

"Is it true that you—that you did it with Julie?" she asked out of the blue. Then she had to clench her hands into fists to keep herself from clapping them to her mouth, horrified at herself for bringing it up.

Sirius didn't seem really mad, though: he just laughed. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen and a half," she said stiffly.

He nodded as if that was all he needed to know, and did not answer the question.

A minute later they stopped. There was a spiral staircase in front of them, and Amy knew that at the top was the door with the silver eagle-shaped door knocker.

"You can get in?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah. I just have to answer a riddle."

He looked at her. "You've done this before."

She nodded, glancing at her feet. They stood in silence. Then she looked up. "I didn't see it," she said softly. His face was blank. "Julie saw it. She watched out of the window. Sometimes I dream that she was the one...that she opened the window and she cast the curse and she killed—she killed..." Her voice, which had turned into a whisper, died away entirely.

Sirius swallowed once, and from the tone of his voice she could tell that his mouth was dry. "Julie...Your mother loved you."

Amy dropped her gaze, as if she was disappointed in him, and then she shrugged, gave him a small, artificial smile, and hopped onto the bottom step.

"Good night," she said, and she was gone.


"Hey."

A bar of chocolate slapped down on the table in front of Remus. Dark, with hazelnuts. The hand holding it was decorated with extremely chipped red nail polish, and when he looked up to the person attached, it turned out to be Lily Evans.

"Oh." He leaned back in his chair. "Hi."

"I was looking for you, to ask if you're feeling well enough to do this Saturday with Marlene, and I asked Peter where you were." She was looking at him significantly, as if she was expecting some sort of response. He shrugged. "And guess what Peter told me? Today's your birthday."

"Oh," Remus said again, blinking. "Yeah. I know."

She breathed in deeply through her nose, as if she was very disappointed in him. "Remus Lupin! I've been going to school with you for six years and I didn't know your birthday!"

"I'm sure there are a few other sixth-years whose birthdays you don't know," he said, half-laughing.

"So, at first I thought, we should throw him a party," she said, grinning, "a surprise party. Marlene was very into this idea. We were going to get Potter and Black to smuggle in some firewhiskey, but then we thought, no, they'll tell him, and ruin the surprise. So I got you some chocolate instead. You didn't leave us much time, you know!" And she frowned at him, as if it was his fault that Peter had not talked to her sooner.

He smiled, a warm, pleasant feeling in his chest. He hated big parties. Lily probably knew that.

"Want some?" he asked, opening the chocolate bar, breaking two rows off, and handing one to Lily. She stuck it in her mouth and then thanked him in a muffled voice.

They ate their chocolate together in a happy silence.

"Prefect meeting tonight?" Lily asked.

"Yeah."

"All right. Later, yeah? I have this extra-credit thing in Charms..." She shook her head sadly. Really she was in a very good mood—she had run into Nigel again, and she had kissed him. It wasn't the kissing that put her in a good mood so much as the feeling that she had made a decision—something she was generally bad at.

"See you," said Remus. Lily crossed the room and went upstairs, whistling as she went.

Julie was sitting on her bed with the curtains pushed back, reading a letter. She was frowning, but Lily knew by now that when Julie was truly angry her face showed no expression at all, so she felt safe enough to keep whistling as she pulled the blankets up from her bed.

"Lumos," she muttered, getting down on her knees to look underneath. There was a particular library book she was looking for, one that she had gotten for her Charms project and then forgotten to read. She pushed aside clothes, other books, papers and parchment.

"Oh."

"What?" Julie asked.

"I've just found my favorite bra. I didn't even realize I'd lost it."

Julie snorted. "Pig..."

Defiantly, Lily started to whistle again, until she sneezed. She tried Vanishing a few dust bunnies, but it wasn't exactly successful. Is a dust bunny an object, she wondered, or a collection of objects? She would have to ask Professor McGonagall about it. Or perhaps not, considering she would have to explain why she was wondering.

There it was. Memory and Dreams: Advanced Mental Magic. She had to lay flat on her stomach to pull it out. She straightened up, sneezing again, and brushed off the red linen cover.

"Accio not working?" Julie inquired.

"Nah, I like to have a look under my bed every once in a while," said Lily, now tenderly dusting her bra.

"Check nothing's achieved sentience."

"Exactly." Lily nodded at the letter in Julie's lap. "Bad news?"

"Not really," said Julie. "My dad wants to know if I'll come to New York for Easter hols, or if he should come to Scotland."

"Oh," said Lily, pausing. "Oh—I was going to invite you to stay with me."

"Were you?" Julie looked up. "Would you?"

"Well...don't you want to stay with your dad?"

"No," said Julie shortly. "And I'd stay here, only James invited me to his place for the 27th, and I don't know how I'd get back to school. If I sign up to stay for vacation, am I allowed to leave for a day and then come back?"

"I don't know," said Lily. "What are you doing with James?"

"It's his birthday," Julie answered. "He's having some people over."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Oh." She threw the bra at her trunk, missed, and hopped off her bed to go get it and put it away. "Well, you can definitely stay. I'll write my dad, if you want."

"That'd be brill."

There was a pause. Lily frowned. "Where does he live?"

"What? Oh, James. Surrey."

Julie couldn't really interpret the face that Lily made, and she went back to her letter. After asking about the holiday, Richard had gone on to inquire after her exams. Then he had written a brief paragraph about his job, working in the Tri-State Wizarding Radio, with an inane story about another broadcaster's Saint Bernard. She wondered what on earth he was trying to achieve. It was the third letter he had sent this semester, although she hadn't encouraged him in the slightest. He must know she didn't like him. He wasn't an idiot.

Amy was probably writing him back, though. He probably just copied out the same letter to each of his daughters and changed the name.

On second thought, she really couldn't imagine him doing that.

Best wishes, Dad.

"You're sure everything's all right?" Lily asked.

Julie thought about it. "My mum used to send me books," she said matter-of-factly. "I've only re-read things since January."

Lily didn't say anything, just nodded slowly, as if she understood.

The door opened and Marlene came in. She smiled at Lily in greeting and started to go through her wardrobe.

"Oi, Mar," said Lily, "are you going to Potter's birthday party?"

"Yeah," Marlene said, holding a peach-coloured blouse up to her shoulders and frowning. Lily started to say something else, but her friend cut her off. "Julie, what are you going to wear?"

Julie, who had lain back on her bed and was staring at the ceiling, lifted her head to look at Marlene. "What?"

"What are you going to wear to the party?"

Julie raised her eyebrows. "I was thinking of wearing trousers. Probably a shirt. I'm almost certain I'll wear some sort of clothing."

Marlene sighed with exasperation, pulling out a blue sundress. "Pity this wouldn't do for March..."

"James Potter invited you to a birthday party and you didn't tell me?" Lily asked, crossly.

"Honestly, Lily, it was only a few days ago...I don't have anything nice, not since I ruined my red miniskirt..."

"You're both daft," said Julie flatly, and she sank back onto her bed.


Still, Julie could admit to the faintest feeling of trepidation as she woke up on the twenty-seventh of March. She was lying on an air mattress in Lily's room—or rather, she had gone to sleep on an air mattress, and now was lying on the floor. Somewhere there must have been a puncture.

Lily and her dad had painted the room themselves, a few years before Hogwarts. Three walls were turquoise, and one was pink. The whole room was much girlier than Lily would have chosen at seventeen, with a frilly lampshade, a little mirror with pink feathers tacked around the edge and glittery stickers permanently stuck to the dresser.

Julie extricated herself from the blankets—she could only vaguely remember her dreams, but the sheets were twisted around her legs, as if she had tried to run in her sleep—and stood up. It was early; the room was still dim. She didn't get dressed, just went downstairs and put the kettle on. She looked out the window for a moment; it faced a small street, lined with closely packed brick houses just like the Evans'. A few had flower boxes out in front, but none of them had real yards.

The kettle started its preliminary hissing noise, and she turned it off before it could whistle. She found herself a mug and a teabag and went back upstairs, where she climbed back into her cot and sat, holding her tea.

She had lied to herself just a minute ago. She remembered her dreams perfectly well.

One about Sirius, that had been pleasant. One about James, Marlene, and a unicorn, which had been merely nonsensical. One about Margaret.

She took tiny, quick sips of her tea and stared at the turquoise wall as sunlight began to reach through the window.

Lily was naturally a late riser. She managed well enough during the school year, but on the weekends she was never seen before ten, and that went double for the holidays. At ten-thirty, therefore, both girls were still in the bedroom, Julie clutching an empty mug, Lily dozing in a cocoon of blankets, and they were both very startled when the door slammed open.

It was Petunia. "There is a...boy downstairs," she said, enunciated very clearly, "and he says he is here for you."

"Thanks," said Julie, "tell him I'll be down in five."

"Wha...?" said Lily. Her sister threw her a scornful look and left.

Lily pushed herself up onto her hands and watched Julie brush out her long hair. "Who's here?" she asked.

"Sirius," said Julie, pulling on a pair of jeans. "I can't Apparate yet, remember?" She had actually managed to disappear and appear in the middle of a wooden hoop during the last two Apparition classes; but she didn't quite trust herself going across England. And besides, Sirius was already seventeen, and had his license. She was about to see the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, after all, so she might as well appear to be law-abiding.

Lily frowned. "Sirius Black is in my house? Shite..." She got out of bed as well and started hunting for clothes.

The more she thought about this, the worse it seemed. The look on Petunia's face was alarming enough, but when she wondered what her dad would think of him, she grabbed the nearest t-shirt, pulled a brush through her hair once and ran out.

She stopped in the kitchen doorway. Sirius was sitting with his back to her, nodding along as Mr. Evans talked about plants. He had an African violet on the table in front of him, and he was turning it slowly, pinching off the dead blossoms. Petunia was standing, leaning against the wall behind him, staring at Sirius with an unreadable expression, but to Lily's surprise, Mr. Evans seemed very comfortable.

"...see, the light's a bit too direct where I've got it now, some of the leaves are turning brown, I'm just not sure—good morning, Lily."

"Morning, Dad." She nodded to Sirius. "Julie'll be down in a minute."

"Evans!" Sirius exclaimed, turning in his seat and giving her a wide smile. "Your dad's been telling me about his gardening."

Lily, assuming her dad was being mocked, gave him a filthy look, but his smile only widened.

"I never knew any of this stuff, my parents never kept houseplants. You look nice." This last part was delivered in exactly the same tone of voice, and Lily was momentarily horrified that he would give her the compliment before she realized that Julie had come in behind her.

Julie looked exactly the same as usual. Her long light hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she was wearing the leather jacket that she wore more or less every day she was out of Hogwarts robes.

"I'm ready to go."

"Right." Sirius stood up. "Thanks very much, Mr. Evans. Evans—see you around." And he actually winked at Lily.

She walked them to the front door, as if she wanted to make sure they actually left.

"Want me to say anything to James for you?" asked Sirius.

"Yeah, you tell Potter he can go—" She broke off, looked over her shoulder at Petunia, and started over. "No, thanks. Julie, don't get back too late."

Julie smiled. It was a real smile, not mocking or unkind, and Lily was very glad to see it. "Bye."


Sirius led her by the hand, looking for somewhere secluded to Disapparate from. Cokeworth on a Saturday morning: everyone who had to work that day was already gone, and the rest were just getting up, watering their worn-out geraniums, getting in their used cars to run errands. The sky was gray, as usual.

"What'd you get James?" asked Sirius.

"Some records." Julie sighed. "It is so hard to shop for a rich boy."

Sirius laughed.

"Oh, god," she went on, "do I have to shop for you now too?"

"My birthday's in November," said Sirius, looking sideways at her.

"Good point," said Julie, "not very likely we'll still be together by then."

He gave her another sharp, sideways look, but did not respond. A pause, then: "I'm not rich anymore anyway."

"Och, puir wee laddie…" His fingers tightened around hers, and she laughed, pleased with herself and the world.

"This is all right," said Sirius abruptly. They had reached a small playground at the end of the street and were tucked away behind the dumpsters out back. "No one will see us here."

Julie immediately let go of his hand, curled her fingers in his collar and pulled him closer, slanting her mouth across his. His hands moved to her waist, slid down her hips as he deepened the kiss, before he broke it off suddenly, laughing.

"I was talking about Apparating, Jule..."

"I know what you were talking about," she said mockingly, and he took her by the elbow and spun her into darkness.

They arrived on the top of a low hill, in the middle of a copse of leafless birches. They might have been planted expressly to conceal Apparating visitors, although when Julie stepped out from the cover of the trees she didn't see many signs of life. They were standing in a landscape of rolling hills, meadows that would be beautiful in a month, green and flowering. There were a few houses to either side, large, comfortable-looking, and far away, but the one she assumed was their destination was directly in front of them. Down the hill, across the road, and up a long, meandering driveway.

The house was long, low, and very beautiful, built from a soft brown stone, its many-paned windows glittering in the late morning light. Some kind of shrubbery was heaped artfully in front, a brown mist of branches and buds, only a few holly bushes adding dark colour. The driveway looped lazily around to the front door, where a wrought iron lantern hung. She counted four chimneys. Two were puffing smoke, and one, the only overt evidence of wizards in residence, was puffing gold sparks.

"Bit of a change from Cokeworth, isn't it?" said Sirius, and she realized her jaw was slack. He was standing in that lounging way he had, hands in his pockets, laughing at her without laughing. If there was a wall to lean on, he would be leaning on it.

She closed her mouth and cut her eyes at him.

He started making his way down the hill, and she followed. Behind the house, there was some kind of water, maybe a pond or a stream, shining under the dull March sun.

"Did you used to have a house like this?" Julie asked.

"No," said Sirius almost curtly. "The Blacks have land in Yorkshire, but they don't keep it up. I grew up in London."

"But you live here now."

He nodded.

Now Julie was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It wasn't just the money; money she could laugh at. But she couldn't laugh at good taste. If only the house hadn't been so beautiful! And the inside was even worse: the foyer, furnished in dark wood, the green-shaded lamp, the house-elf, dressed in a clean monogrammed sheet (all right, that she could laugh at) who showed them in.

"Mrs. Potter is in the music room, Master Black, Miss…"

"Thanks, Twitch," said Sirius, and then, in an undertone, "What's the matter, never seen a house-elf before?"

"Shut it," was Julie's unimaginative response.

He led her into a bright room with walls of blue satin. James' mother was sitting at a small table, reading letters. There was a glossy grand piano beside her, and a magnificent great horned owl clutched the lid and swayed, its orange eyes half closed. A concert harp, slightly taller than Julie, rested in another corner. She wondered who in the family played either instrument.

"Sirius," Mrs. Potter said, standing. She was tall and very elegant, with an oval face and very straight, ink black hair loosely swooped up. She was wearing plain robes of a bright turquoise colour and small ruby earrings. She swept across the room and wrapped Sirius in a hug. And to Julie's surprise, he hugged her back, smiling. When she drew back, she held him by the shoulders and looked at him critically, in the way mothers have examined their homecoming children since time immemorial. They do it to see how much their children have grown, and whether they are taller than their mothers yet. Sirius was, but not by much.

"Mrs. Potter, this is Julie."

Mrs. Potter turned to the teenage girl in her sitting room and caught her, almost by surprise, in a moment of heartfelt longing. Julie's eyes were wide and the expression on her face desolate. Just for a second, and then she put on blank politeness and curved her lips into a smile.

"Of course it is," said Mrs. Potter quietly, and she put out both of her hands and enclosed one of Julie's in them. "You're very welcome here." She stepped back and said to both of them, "James is upstairs, in the yellow room."


Lily would have slept in later, but she was up, so she made breakfast. All she could find was oatmeal, which she hated, but she fixed herself a bowl and brought it into the dining room, where her dad was still examining his African violet.

"So that was Sirius Black, eh?" said Mr. Evans.

"Yes."

"One of those blokes you complain about so much?"

"Yes."

"Hm," said Mr. Evans. "He didn't seem so bad to me."

"Just because he can be charming…" Lily muttered. "Anyway, it's very easy to impress people when you're good-looking."

"Hm," said Mr. Evans again, and Petunia gave Lily a sharp look, as if she were surprised her sister had noticed. "Well, he seemed very interested in my violet."

"If he hadn't," said Lily grumpily, "I would have hexed him."

Petunia threw her a second uncomfortable glance.


Of course they played Quidditch. The entire Quidditch team was there, and Sirius, Peter and Remus had been putting up with James for six years, so they played Quidditch.

"Julie can be the other captain," said James graciously, and then, to Sirius, "What? You're rubbish."

Julie looked very smug. James picked Sirius first anyway. But Julie was smart enough to pick Samantha Vickens, who, although she was just fourteen and shorter than everyone else, was the only trained Seeker, and Marlene had to Seek for James' team.

"Wands or no wands?" asked Peter. The standard rules of Quidditch, of course, strictly forbid wands on pitch, but the four sixth-year boys had developed their own version which was, in their opinion, much more fun.

James grinned. "Wands. If you make someone fall off their broom, they get a penalty."

"That's the only rule?" Brandon Douglas asked dubiously.

That was the only rule. It was a long, terrifying game. Samantha was the only one who actually fell off her broom, when Sirius hit her with a Jelly-legs Jinx and she lost her balance, and Julie took the penalty shot and hit Sirius in the face with the Quaffle. Will Preston thought she should get ten points for that, and in the ensuing debate James scored four goals without anyone noticing. It bothered him so much that nobody noticed that he hit Will from behind with a Tarantallegra. Will, dancing around on a broom, looked so ridiculous that it was several minutes before anyone could stop laughing to perform the counter-jinx.

The score was two-thirty to one-ninety when James called for a break. He did this by waving to his mother, who had come out to the wide back lawn where they were playing, putting his hands to his mouth and bellowing, "CAAAAAKE!"

So they all trooped inside, carrying their brooms over their shoulders (borrowed from James, who got a new one most birthdays) and sat down in the dining room, where they had lemon cake and butterbeer. Midway through, Julie asked Marlene (who had been there before—the McKinnons were another prestigious, "liberal" pureblood family, and James and Marlene had known each other since childhood) for directions to the bathroom.

The hallway, papered in a delicate red and cream paisley, was hung with family photographs from the last century. Generations of tall, dark-haired Potters smiled and waved. Near the end of the hall, there was one photo of three young Indian women. The one in the middle was wearing red and gold cloth and extravagant jewelry, and her hands were painted with an orangey-brown dye. When Julie looked closer, she recognized one of the other girls as a young Mrs. Potter. The three were talking and laughing with each other. They were probably sisters.

She looked at it for a long time before stepping away. She felt uncomfortable, guilty, her stomach knotted, and for this reason, perhaps, she turned not to her left, as she had been directed, but to her right.

Or (because this is Julie) maybe she saw the telephone on the desk, through the half-open door, and she felt nosy.

She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. The room was an office, spacious and paneled in dark wood. She was at the front corner of the house, and two of the walls had those lovely windows in them, eight by four panes. The glass must have been quite old; it was thick and wavy, so that the shrubbery beyond was a little distorted. The room was furnished with a desk and a few chairs, and sitting on the desk was an antique-looking rotary telephone. There was a fire burning low in the grate, and on the mantelpiece, together with more silver-framed photographs, there was a jar of glittering green Floo powder. There were two neat stacks of papers on the desk; she drew near and read on the top of one, Incident Reports, Nov 76—Feb 77, and on the other simply the word CONFIDENTIAL in red. Not quite brave enough to poke through these, Julie turned and looked around. Next to the door, most of the wall was taken up with a long bulletin board, hung with overlapping news clippings. There was still some space at the end, and then the most recent came first.

Muggle Family of Five Found Dead in Brixton, she read.

Rumors of "Death Eater" Activity Near Hogsmeade.

Ministry Expending "Every Effort" to Capture You-Know-Who, Potter Says.

Another Attempt At Liaison With Giants Fails.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" Now Targeting Ministry Workers, Sources Reveal.

Suspected Death Eater Found Dead.

Julie paused with her finger next to this one. It was dated to last October, and she realized that she remembered talking about it with Lily and Marlene, over breakfast in the Great Hall. Black was found in her bedroom, with her throat cut…yes, she had talked about it with Sirius, too. She could just hear his voice, dry with half-concealed anger. "Dear old Auntie Aludra, yeah?"

That had been right before they found Niamh…and then she was distracted, and moved on down the board, all the way down to where the clippings were yellow and brittle.

Riots Break Out at Squib Rights Marches; Pureblood Extremists Responsible, Some Say.

Alexander Potter New Head of DMLE.

Head Auror Potter Leads Raid on Norfolk Neo-Grindelwaldians.

Perhaps it was unavoidable, when one was so politically prominent, to end up in the newspapers fairly often, but still, it seemed just a touch narcissistic to cut the articles out and hang them on the wall. Also, what the hell was a Neo-Grindelwaldian? This one was dated from 1963, and Julie realized with a start that she had learned very little History of Magic from after the eighteenth century.

Then again, History class being what it was, she hadn't learned much before the eighteenth century either.

Albus Dumbledore Refuses Minister's Position Once Again.

Valentine Yaxley Dead Under Mysterious Circumstances.

Julie stopped again. This article was dated July 1958. There was a small black-and-white picture of a smug-looking man with a hard-edged face and dark hair, and underneath it the column read:

Valentine Yaxley, 53, was found dead in his Sussex home this Sunday, writes Peter McMahon. Ministry sources have just confirmed that the cause of death was homicide by gun (a primitive Muggle weapon), but no explanations have been offered for the possible identity of a killer or the unusual method. Yaxley is remembered for his generous patronage of the Sussex Young Wizards Association, a community organization for magical children, and for his outspoken political views. "Some people called him old-fashioned, certainly," said his son Wyndham, 26, speaking from London this morning, where he is working with investigators. "But he was well-liked and respected in his community. This act of senseless violence has been a terrible shock for all of us."

Yaxley was known for his strong anti-Muggle views, and was in fact accused of offering monetary support to the Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald during the early 1940s. He always contested such claims and was declared innocent of any collaboration in 1946. In his later years, however, Yaxley did not shy from controversial statements, saying on one occasion—

"If you're looking for the ladies' room, this isn't it," said a deep, familiar voice.

Julie breathed in sharply and froze. Then she turned very slowly, so as to look as if she hadn't been startled at all. James' father was standing with one hand on the doorknob. His expression was faintly amused; she supposed that when you raised someone like James you developed a little perspective on this sort of thing.

"You have a big house," said Julie. "It's easy to get lost."

Mr. Potter laughed. "All right, Julie. Across the hall." He opened the door for her and made a polite little half-bow. She was walking out, head held very high, when he spoke again and she stopped. "Julie," he said, "is there any point in asking you to please be careful?"

She didn't really understand the question, but she shrugged indifferently. "If it makes you feel better."

He smiled ruefully and closed the door.


Much later, after they had given up entirely on finding the Snitch, they all sat in James' room. James passed around a bottle of firewhiskey and they all talked in slow, leisurely voices. The idea had been to wait until Samantha went home before getting out any alcohol, but this had long since been forgotten. Samantha had joined the team in her second year. She had always been the youngest, and she had always been very good at being so quiet that the older kids forgot about her and let her do whatever she wanted. Like most people with protective older siblings, she was very scornful of hypocritical behavior, and very confident in her ability to hold her liquor.

Kiran, who had just joined the team this year and was still a relative unknown, was watching her with his dark eyes. He knew she wasn't exactly supposed to be there, but she was confident he wouldn't call attention to her for two reasons: first, he was only fifteen himself, and second, she had seen him snogging Isabelle Fontaine behind the greenhouses, and he knew she had, and for whatever reason he was very keen that nobody should find out.

Kiran was cute, Samantha thought, even next to Sirius Black. She had fancied Black for about a nanosecond during third year, before she realized he was the most immature person she had ever met. And now he was apparently going out with Julie Fraser…you wouldn't know to look at them. Samantha gave them credit for this. She hated it when a brand-new couple couldn't stop showing off—putting fingers and hands on each other, laughing too loudly at each other's jokes, whispering in each other's ears—as if that was suddenly polite, just because they had a date. Julie and Sirius sat across from each other, and occasionally they made little faces at each other, but it was pleasantly easy to ignore.

"Wanna…wanna play Exploding Snap?" suggested Brandon, passing the bottle to Kiran. James got out a deck of cards and passed them to Remus, who shuffled and dealt.

They played in a comfortably liquor-soaked quiet, broken by occasional small explosions. One lit James' sleeve on fire and Julie drenched him with an Aguamenti.

"Prob'ly shouldn't be doing this right now…" James murmured.

Marlene giggled. Samantha had always thought Marlene was so pretty, with her big blue eyes, and the dusting of freckles across her nose. She looked even prettier in the half-light. Her golden hair was shining, and her small pink lips were moving, saying something Samantha couldn't understand…she was even prettier when there were two of her side by side…Samantha's eyelids were fluttering…

Two sounds in quick succession—a slam and clink. After a moment of thought she figured it out: the bedroom door had opened, and James had shoved the firewhiskey under the bed.

She blinked and Mr. Potter appeared in the doorway. "Who here is under seventeen?" he asked. There was a pause; they all looked at each other. Then Samantha, Kiran, Marlene and (after Marlene kicked her) Julie raised their hands. "Right," he continued briskly. "Ava is going to Apparate you four home now. James, you can send everyone else home who's going home. I have to go into work."

"Wha-what?" James scrambled to his feet. "What happened? Do you need help?"

Mr. Potter bent down, reached under the bed and pulled out the bottle of firewhiskey. "Really, James? I'll see you when I get back. Your mum might go in too but she'll talk to you first. You four, come with me."

They were getting up; Will and Brandon stood as well, confused, getting their things together. Mr. Potter ushered them out while Remus and Peter exchanged worried glances.

"Dad," said James, almost tripping over the carpet as he came to the door, "What time are you getting back?"

"I don't know," his father told him, and he quickly put his arm around James' shoulders and squeezed.

Mrs. Potter was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She had changed into navy blue Ministry robes and was looking in a mirror hanging on the wall, pinning her hair tightly to the back of her head. The expression on her face and even the way she stood had changed as well. She looked businesslike and a little bit dangerous, and Julie admired her even more than she already had.

"See you later, Ava," said Mr. Potter. He briefly kissed his wife and then went out the front door. Like most Wizarding families, the Potters had Anti-Apparition Charms set up inside their house.

"Thanks for the lovely party, Mrs. Potter," said Will politely. His eyes were very wide; he looked confused and a bit tipsy.

"You're very welcome, Will," she said. "I'm sorry it ended so suddenly, but I hope you all had a good time. Julie, if you tell me where you're staying, I'll take you home first. Any of you who have a fireplace at home, you're welcome to use our Floo."

Julie gave her the address in Cokeworth. Mrs. Potter took her arm, gave her a moment to prepare, and pulled her into the crushing darkness of Disapparition.

They popped into existence in the middle of the street, right in front of the Evans' house. Julie realized she had made a mistake, but when she looked around, she didn't see anybody at a window, and it was well past twilight.

"You're staying with Muggles, is that right?" asked Mrs. Potter.

"Yes."

Mrs. Potter sighed. "Well, I want you to keep your eyes open, and be very careful. It's going to be a wild couple of weeks…or more, if you talk to Alec…"

Julie looked at her very seriously. "All right. And...thank you."

They looked at each other for a moment, and then Julie turned and went up the walk. A red-headed girl had opened the door and was waiting for her in a golden rectangle of light, and Mrs. Potter heard her ask Julie if she'd had a good time.

"Yeah," said Julie, and she let her friend give her a hug before they both went in.

The door closed, and in the growing darkness the witch outside disappeared.


A little bit more than two weeks later, two weeks after Mr. Potter came home from a twenty-two hour shift in the Ministry, two weeks after Lily looked at her morning Prophet and screamed aloud, and one day after Professor McGonagall gave a speech about the importance of sixth-year exams, Julie and Lily went to the library together, and Julie forgot her Potions textbook.

(What happened on the night of James' birthday can wait. It was, eventually, very important; it shocked all of Wizarding Britain. But it didn't really shock Julie. The lesson that everyone else had to learn the next day was one that she already knew—and this is, really, her story.)

They had their Transfiguration textbooks out, and they were both taking notes at a furious speed. They were utterly silent; Lily was literally pulling on her own hair. Although neither had admitted it, they were racing each other to the end of the chapter. Across the room, the hands of the library clock steadily ticked.

"Done!"

"Done!"

They looked at each other sourly, neither content with a tie. "All right," said Lily after a pause, "What about the Potions essay?"

Julie snorted derisively, rummaging in her bag for Advanced Potionmaking. Lily got out her copy and rifled through the pages. She looked up when Julie swore.

"What?"

"I don't have it...I think I left it in the classroom yesterday." She was almost certain. She had been working with Sirius that day, and she had made a basic, embarrassing mistake, putting in the porcupine spines before the lemon peel. Their Celarity Draught had bubbled over, pouring all over the floor, and Julie had been frantically trying to salvage a flaskful before the bell rang while Sirius stayed at his chair and snarked at her, and in the ensuing chaos she had left her book on her seat.

"Just give me a mo," she mumbled to Lily, and she walked out as quickly as she could without being accused of running in the library.

It was a quarter to nine, and the sky was dark outside the castle windows. Then she went through the Entrance Hall down to the dungeons, and sunlight disappeared entirely. She hurried through the torchlit corridors to the Potions classroom and quickly retrieved her book. On her way out, she decided to take a shortcut that James had shown her once—a back corridor, lined with storage rooms, that led to a staircase to the second floor. It was here, in this narrow hallway, that she encountered someone she did not expect to see at all: Regulus Black.

He was leaning against the corridor in the same bored, elegant way his brother had—a little more bored, a little less elegant. He was shorter and slimmer, and his hair was cut differently. But it wasn't just the eyes, the shape of the nose and mouth—when he looked up, sharply, like a dog catching a scent, and stared at her, there was something in the wary hostility of his expression that reminded her so much of Sirius that for a moment, just a short one, she let her guard down.

"Hullo," she said, very comfortably. Immediately, he looked twice as suspicious.

"Fraser," he said, in a voice that was slightly louder than necessary. It was this small strangeness that made Julie realize that she shouldn't be feeling comfortable at all.

"A little close to curfew for loitering in the dungeons, isn't it?"

"Mind your own business and I'll mind mine," he said flatly. "Anyway, I happen to live here."

"Right," she said, with a humorless laugh, "I'd forgotten what peculiar taste you Slytherins have."

But Julie couldn't think of a reason to pick a fight with Regulus Black, and she had one very good reason not to. She walked past him, and then he did something particularly strange: he followed her, moving sideways, with his back to the wall.

She stopped, and stared. "Excuse me?"

He looked—guilty? Uncomfortable. He was a little bit easier to read than Sirius, but that wasn't saying much.

"Are you going to let me pass?"

"Wasn't stopping you," he mumbled.

"Right," she said slowly. "Let's try this again."

And she walked down the hall. She got to the doorway at the end, opening onto the staircase she wanted to take, before he called out.

"Fraser!" He was actually jogging towards her.

"Look," she sighed, calmly moving her hand towards her wand, "this is how this works, Black. I go upstairs, back to my friends, who are, I am sure, anxiously awaiting me. You stay down here, in the hole in the ground that you call home. Neither of us ever needs to speak to the other for any reason. Plan?"

"Yeah, sure." His expression was unreadable again. A different kind of discomfort. "You don't honestly think my brother is in love with you, do you?"

"I'm—I'm sorry? What?" She gaped at him. "Your brother? I didn't think you even called him that."

A faint red flush appeared along his cheekbones.

"Don't worry," she added, relishing her own nastiness. "He likes me better than he likes you." She waited for him to respond, and when he did not, she stepped around him and through the doorway.

He looked after her for a minute. What a stupid, stupid thing to ask. Then he went back to the doorway he'd been standing in front of and stuck his head in.

"She's gone."

It was a small room. Empty crates, stamped with different apothecary's names, were stacked against the wall. Mulciber had pulled one out to sit on, and another to use as a table, spread with parchment. Most were covered with his own handwriting. He had grabbed a few and hastily tucked them inside a crate; now he pulled them back out. "Fraser?"

Regulus nodded to confirm it.

"Nosy bitch," Mulciber muttered under his breath.

"Well, she doesn't have any idea."

"Good."

Regulus stood with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. "How's it going?"

"Bad," said Mulciber curtly. "This would be so easy if Filch were the only one checking the mail...but there's Aurors at the school gate...I don't have any idea what sort of safeguards they have up, but I have to encrypt this enough that they can't understand it, but Rosier and Wilkes can..."

"And—you're sure, are you, that Rosier and Wilkes are the right people to ask? I mean, what happened with Malfoy?"

"Malfoy doesn't know a good idea when he hears it," the older boy snapped. He put his wand to the parchment and thought. He had already gone through most of the spells he knew; he had changed his handwriting, turned it backwards, written in invisible ink, made the page appear blank to anyone whose last name did not begin with M, and still he wasn't satisfied. Everything he knew felt elementary and obvious. What he would like to do was make the parchment unreadable to anyone who did not have a Dark Mark, but not having one himself, he didn't know any of the relevant spells.

"Look," said Regulus with a sigh. Mulciber was beginning to think he had made a mistake in asking Black to be a lookout. The fourth year was too anxious, and asked too many questions. "You don't know where the entrance or the exit to this passage is."

"Yeah, but," and this part, Mulciber didn't fully understand himself, but he was a bit proud of nevertheless, "Siobhan's going to find that out."

Regulus scoffed. "What? How the hell would she know?"

Mulciber considered this. "I guess you could say, she has some really good connections."

"She's a half-blood," Regulus muttered.

But Mulciber only smiled, annoyingly sure of himself. "That's not what I meant."

And long after midnight, they finished their work.