Before I could even react, Remus whipped out his own wand. "Expelliarmus!"

The spell collided directly with Black. He somersaulted once in the air and collapsed in a heap on the ground. He was on his feet in an instant, his dark eyes hot with betrayal. "What was that for, Remus?!"

"Keep your voices down!" I hissed, but Potter looked smug. "Why?" He sneered. "Wouldn't want a teacher to come running to find you here? Outside of your bed after hours?"

"And don't you think you'd be punished too?" I snapped coldly, wand now pointing at him instead. "You're not in bed either, Potter, if you hadn't noticed."

He narrowed his hazel eyes at me furiously.

"All three of you, calm down." Remus reasoned, wand aimed at Black. "All four of us will be in deep trouble with McGonagall. Especially you two." He indicated at Black and Potter.

"What do you suggest we do about her?" Black growled, slinking closer. "She's been nothing but trouble since the train ride here."

"Her and Snivellus." Potter threw in disdainfully.

"You-" I began hotly, but Remus spoke in a cool, collected voice, overriding me. "Amber is on our side, guys. She's not the enemy here."

The three of us stared at him, open-mouthed with shock.

"She might be an arrogant pain in the arse, but she's smart. We need her brains."

"If you're suggesting I be friends with these bullies…" I let my words trail off, the meaning clear enough.

"We aren't too crazy about you either, fruitcake." Black retorted. He still looked wounded that his friend would have used a disarming charm on him.

"Tattletale." I shot back.

"Crybaby." Potter said arrogantly.

"Enough!" Remus commanded in his firm, quiet tone. "Like I said, you aren't the enemy."

"Then who is?" I demanded.

"McGonagall." Black said flatly.

"Snivellus." Potter added.

"No." Remus's face darkened. "The Dark Lord."

Silence met his words. I felt the blood draining from my face. It was clear from the scared expressions of Potter and Black that they felt the same terror I did whenever his name was mentioned.

"That's not funny, Remus." Potter said quietly.

"I'm not joking." Remus replied seriously. "He's on the move. He's not just a scare tactic. Or propaganda spread by conspiracists. This is the real deal."

"How do you know?" I said tremulously, but my mind flashed back to that article in the paper written by that editor named Backe, who had warned that Voldemort was on the rise.

Remus's nostrils flared, shutting his eyes tightly. "I just know." He said tightly. "My dad works in the Ministry. High up. He knows things. Things that I'm trusting none of you to say to anyone else."

I chewed my lower lip, having no intention of speaking of the Dark Lord to anyone, least of all people I loathed as much as Potter and Black.

"We should make a magic oath." Potter said suddenly. Black brightened and looked at me wolfishly, like I was a stray lamb he wanted to devour.

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"

"None of us knows magic that advanced yet." Remus reminded him. "Another time, maybe. But right now, let's just all agree that McGonagall doesn't need to know about this."

"Where were you two?" Black asked curiously. "Where does that tunnel lead? How did you get in?"

Remus glanced my way, as if asking for permission to speak. I gave my head a tiny shake.

"You'll have to ask Amber." Remus told Black, shrugging. "She's got it figured out, not me."

Two pairs of eyes zeroed in on me.

I felt hot against my collar. Just because Remus and I somewhat trusted each other did not mean I shared that same bond with these two meatheads. I raised my chin a notch regally. "It's a secret."

Both boys groaned loudly, earning a "shhh!" from me and Remus.

"Why not?" Black complained.

"You owe us!" Potter persisted.

"I don't owe you anything." I said coolly. "You two owe me an apology for all of the times you've picked on me, if anything."

"She's got a point." Remus agreed.

"You little Judas!" Black accused.

"We'll figure it out ourselves." Potter huffed haughtily. "We don't need your help. Especially a girl's help."

All of the faint, albeit real, feelings of unity with Potter was suddenly broken. I saw him again for what he really was: A spoiled brat who had a mean streak that I could never beat out of him. At least, not yet.

"Fine." I replied calmly, barely reigning in my hot temper. "Just go to bed. And if you say a word of this to McGonagall or anyone, I'll turn your hair pink."

Black and Potter laughed. "As if you could."

I smirked. "You'd be surprised of what I'm capable of."

They two boys exchanged a look. "You don't know who you're dealing with, then." Potter said airily.

"I'm sure I'll find out what you're made of." I turned away, walking back towards Ravenclaw Tower. "Worms."

"She saved Peter's life." Remus said quietly. "Today. When he fell from the stairs."

I turned slightly, staring straight at Potter and Black, who looked like deflated balloons. For whatever reason, they looked ashamed. Guilty.

"Good to know." Potter managed.

"Glad I was there to help." I said simply. I gave the two a narrow-eyed gaze. I found a smile for Remus. "Good night, boys. I'm glad we came to this little 'arrangement'."

Only Remus wished me well. Potter and Black didn't say anything at all. I smirked as I walked away. In the morning, they would begin to understand what the term "taste of your own medicine" meant. I was sure of it.

(later that day...)

The Hogwarts Express rattled as it sped down the tracks the following afternoon. It had been only twenty minutes since we departed the station, but I already felt like I was a million and a half miles from the castle. At breakfast, Lily had given me a tearful hug goodbye and promised to write me an owl every other day while I was gone. Remus agreed to tutor me when I came back if I needed the help. I reminded him that I was apparently at the third year's level. That remark had earned me a small smirk and a farewell. Potter and Black had been strangely absent from breakfast or lunch and classtime.

Now, Lila Habenstarf sat in the compartment with me, nose-deep in a Potions book. She wore a blue-and-black striped scarf around her neck to keep her warm. It was nearing Thanksgiving, and it was getting colder. The first snows had dusted the grounds and melted. More would inevitably arrive.

I tried to lose myself in a book the way Lila had, but my thoughts kept running back to Hogwarts. Namely, the three troublesome Gryffindor boys and Lily. Severus hung about her like a shadow, hardly ever saying a word to me. He was like a ghost, and as far as I knew, only ever spoke to Lily. When he looked at me, his dark obsidian eyes were flat, black and unreadable. I wondered what kinds of things he had gone through to make him so hard already.

Part of me wondered if it had anything to do with Potter or Black.

Or worse… if it had anything to do with me.

The train bumped along down the frozen railways. Lila never looked up from her reading. I glimpsed the title, Advanced Potions Making, Grade 7.

Potions was hard enough in Grade 1. It was fun in the first weeks when I made things blow up, but then it had become painful and embarrassing, especially since I was the only one who managed to mess up so badly in the class. Professor Slughorn had asked me to wear protective gloves and a mask at all times to keep my eyebrows from burning off. Lily, my partner, was always able to salvage our projects. I had reluctantly let her take over the actual potion making while I read off ingredients and the processes.

I dug out my Charms textbook and flipped through the pages. I'd read through it more times than I could remember. Unlike Potions and Divination, Charms came more easily to me than anything. While I managed well through my other classes, Charms was second nature. Every charm I practiced took no more than an hour before I had mastered it. I had wanted to check out Grade 3 from the library, but all copies had been taken out by actual third year students.

I wondered how my sisters were faring. If Mother would be as harsh with me as she usually was. If Dad would say or do anything about it.

I wondered if this visit would be my last to Virginia.

I shut my eyes tightly. They felt hot and grainy. I couldn't allow myself to cry. If I did, I knew I would never stop.

I thought of anything besides the brevity of the illness my younger sister faced. I thought of breakfast, when McGonagall had approached me to make sure I understood I was indeed leaving Hogwarts that day. Instead of traveling to London like McGonagall had thought, the train was instead going to take me straight to Bellinghall Train Station, which was just a few miles from Fort William. Bellinghall was situated in the Glen Nevis Valley, nestled away from the prying eyes of Muggles and mountaineers.

When McGonagall had discovered that I lived only seventy miles from Hogwarts, she had been surprised and pleased. "That means you'll have much less distance to travel." London was over five hundred miles away from the school.

McGonagall also hailed from Scotland. Though she had never specified which part she was from.

The train lurched again, popping my eyes open. The Grampian Mountains rose like green castles around the train, beautiful and majestic and terrifying all at the same time. I wondered if any dragons hunted in those trees and slopes.

Lila Habenstarf was too deeply engrossed her reading to say anything to me. The minutes ticked by in silence. The train rolled on through the valleys, cutting through the towering peaks of the slopes until it finally reached its destination.

"This is your stop." Lila said, shutting her book with a soft clap and stowing it back into her bag. Throat suddenly tight with anxiety, I nodded once and pocketed my wand. A moment later I was holding it again, squeezing it nervously.

I followed Lila off of the train onto the platform. Cold November air bit into my face as I squinted into the wind, trying to glimpse my family. I let go of my suitcase for a moment to wrap my scarf around my nose, which already felt numb with cold.

"I don't see them." Lila said, sounding slightly concerned. "Are you sure they knew you were coming?"

"Yeah." I responded bleakly. "They knew."

Lila waited with me in the increasing cold as the sun sank lower in the overcast sky. After twenty minutes, she was shaking with cold.

I knew in the pit of my stomach they had forgotten me.

"Maybe there's been a mistake." Lila said, uneasy.

I spotted an older gentleman sitting by himself in a café across the street. Feigning relief, I gave Lila a smile. "That's my dad right there. See him? In the window over there in the St. Bride Café?"

Lila narrowed her eyes, squinting into the wind. I could tell she was freezing and wanted nothing more than to get back on the warm train and back to the castle. "That man? Where's your mum?"

"Taking care of Virginia. My sister." I said easily as I started towards the café. At least that wasn't a lie.

Lila didn't look completely convinced. "I should walk you over."

I shook my head, the wind picking up and blowing my long, troublesome hair around my face. I plucked a few strands out of my mouth. "Don't be silly. You're cold enough. I'm already home. Just go on back to the castle. You've waited long enough."

Lila hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." At the moment, I just wanted to be less of an inconvenience to her. She had already taken me this far.

Lila heaved a sigh, her shoulders sagging, and I knew I'd won. She nodded once, more to herself than to me. "Right. Well, have a nice holiday. See you soon at school?"

"Definitely." I gave her another smile, the wind so cold and harsh that it made my eyes stream. Lila waved and clambered back onto the Hogwarts Express. Steeling myself against the cold, I walked inside of the café, the little bell on the door chiming pleasantly. It was mostly empty, with a young couple having dessert a table, a lone man sitting at the bar, and the stranger with his tea near the window, reading the newspaper.

I waved at Lila from inside of the café, unsure if she could see me. But she waved back. A moment later, the train lurched back towards the castle. It picked up momentum, and in less than a minute, it was gone.

I fought the hard lump forming in my throat. I sat down at a table near the man I had claimed as my father and pleated my skirt. I waited for a half hour before giving up completely on the fact that my parents would come for me.

The man never even looked up from his paper.

It was dusk when I finally reached our farm. It wasn't far from the train station, only a mile, but the short November sun made the walk feel much farther than it normally would have. My fingers were red and completely numb, and my nose was so stuffed that I had to breathe through my mouth, drawing in bitterly cold air in through my opened jaws. Romulus was the first to greet me. I could hear his excited barking just before I unlatched the gate and let myself into the familiar property. When I had left for school, the leaves had been faintly blushing with the colors of autumn. Now, they lay dead and decaying over the brown grass. The oppressive wind scattered them, their crunch and rattle like that of dry bones.

Romulus raced to me and pushed his cold snout into my palm. I itched behind his ears, grateful that at least someone was happy to see me.

The lights were on in the house. My family was home.

The dull ache came back, along with a faint pounding in my ears. A war drum. Anger and rage filled me as I pushed open the front door and walked into the warm farmhouse.

No one was downstairs.

I let Romulus in and let the door slam loudly behind me. No one said a word. No one came downstairs or into the room. No one at all.

I felt a flicker of hope and homecoming when I heard a frantic scrabbling noise. That hope was quickly extinguished when a little brown mouse scrambled across the living room floor, the barn cat hurtling after it.

Furious and humiliated at the same time, I began to lug my suitcase up the narrow staircase, but stopped midway and pointed my wand straight at the luggage. "Leve pondus."

Rules be damned. No one cared about me anyway.

The suitcase now weighed as much as a sheet of paper. I lifted it easily up the rest of the flight and carried it into my room. It was cold and dank and dusty had a strong feeling of neglect and disuse.

I turned on a lamp and set my suitcase onto my bed. I surveyed my room, which was just as I'd left it months ago on my first day of school. I shed my traveling cloak and found my old pair of mocassins I'd left behind. I slipped my numb feet inside of the soft folds and padded around the seemingly empty house. Was anyone home at all?

A quick appraisal revealed that I was alone, except for my pets.

Drowning in my own self-pity, I wandered into the kitchen and put a kettle of tea on the boil. While I waited, I helped myself to a single chocolate chip cookie. It was quite stale, but my gnawing hunger supplemented flavor for need. When the kettle screamed, I poured a mug of green tea and added a slice of peach from the fridge. I settled myself in front of the fireplace, which was just smoldering embers, and wished I could be anywhere but home.

The front door opened at nine that night, hours after I'd arrived. Dad bustled in with a very sleepy-looking Naomi just behind him.

Dad started slightly when he saw me reading by the fire. "Amber!" He looked pleased, but very tired. Those bruises under his eyes hadn't been as pronounced the last time I'd seen him.

"Hi, Dad." I said quietly, both words laced with venom. He frowned. "What's going on?"

Naomi plodded over to me, her normally energetic demeanor replaced by an aura of sorrow and fatigue. I gave her a small hug, pinning Dad with an accusatory stare. "You tell me."

Dad looked affronted. "Mind your tongue, young lady."

The name grated on my frayed nerves. Naomi pushed her way next to me, wrapping an afghan around her small shoulders. She had definitely grown since I'd last seen her.

"I guess I'm just a little cold from my walk home from the train station." I spat, feeling every ounce of resentment at being forgotten again rising inside of me like vomit. "It was great waiting for my family when they never showed."

Dad's face paled with shock. "Your mum never picked you up?"

I rolled my eyes. "Was she supposed to?"

Dad looked angry, but I could tell his feelings weren't directed at me. A muscle jerked in his teeth, and his green eyes – Naomi's eyes – bored into the fireplace. The hot red cinders reflected in them. "How long did you wait for?"

"About an hour." I watched his face for a reaction. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He pulled his black hat off of his pale blonde hair, chewing his lip.

"Where's Virginia?" I asked when he remained standing and silent.

Naomi gave a small whimper. Dad closed his eyes in pain.

My stomach tightened. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I could feel my heart slowing to a stop. "Is she… she's not…"

"She's at St. Mungo's." Dad told me. "Your mother is with her."

"She's never home." Naomi admitted dully. "She's always there."

The fear was replaced by mounting fury. I felt like a volcano, my hatred and rage towards my mother the hot lava boiling just below the surface. I knew if I saw her cursed face now, I would explode and burn this house down to ashes around us.

"We will go see your sister tomorrow." Dad said. "Girls, get ready for bed. We've all had a long day."

Naomi, who would usually balk at his decision, instead uncharacteristically trudged up the stairs. She looked miserable.

I fixed Dad with another stare. "Why did you ask me to come home?"

Dad ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. I noticed for the first time the graying at his temples.

"Your sister needs you." He said simply. "Now, please, Amber. Go to bed."

Feeling rejected all over again, I left my tea cup on the coffee table and followed after Naomi. She had brushed her teeth and was pulling on her pajamas when I entered her bedroom.

She spared me a glance and then went back to dressing. She slipped into her bed. I tucked the covers in around her to ward off the late autumn chill. She watched me with those sad green eyes.

"Amber?" She said quietly. "I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

The anger evaporated in a rush of sorrow for my youngest sister. At six years old, she should be careful and playing about in the fallen leaves. She should have had a carefree life full of playing and joy. Instead, she had been saddled with a burden much too heavy for such a little girl.

I bent forward and hugged her. Naomi clung to me tightly. My heart broke for her.

"Amber?" She mumbled quietly into my shirt. "Can you read me a story?"

She hadn't asked me to do that since she was three years old.

I nodded, swallowing against that lump in my throat. "Give me a second. I'll go and fetch a nice book." Something happy. Something cheerful. Anything but reality.

I selected a favorite of Dad's mum. She was a Muggle and had never treated us differently because we were magic folk. She often read this particular book to me when I was a girl, when Virginia was just a baby and I was a toddler.

I climbed into Naomi's small bed, and she immediately nestled into my side. I felt another stab of pain. How starved for attention was she? Had I never realized how much of a presence I had been to her when I lived her? Was Naomi off the radar when it was just Dad, Mum, and Virginia? When was the last time anyone had bothered to ask her how Naomi felt? When was the last time someone had admired her finger paintings or taken her down the creek to feed the turtles?

My heart ached for my little sister. I was glad I was home. Even if it was just to be with her so that she didn't have to be alone anymore.

"Green Eggs and Ham, by Dr. Seuss." I began. I read the book aloud, becoming more animated with each page. When I finished, Naomi requested that I read it again. "Just once more, Amber." She mumbled, half-asleep. I obliged.

She was asleep by the eighth page, but I finished the story for a second time. I sat there with her for awhile, listening to her deep breathing and staring out the dark windowpane. I could hardly fathom the fact that there was no lake sprawled below the house, that I was only twenty feet up instead of twenty stories. There would be no classes in the morning. Just the disaster that my family had become.

I longed for someone to talk to. I craved Lily's company and her listening heart.

I even missed Remus and his quiet, cold demeanor.

Eventually, I untangled myself from my youngest sister, making sure she was comfortable when I left her. I kept her door open ajar so if she awoke during the night, the darkness would be sliced clean through by a shaft of light. Naomi still feared it.

I had just changed into my pajamas, bracing myself for a long sleepless night, when there was a soft knock on my door. I opened it, expecting a sleepy Naomi, but instead faced my father.

I met his gaze steadily, undaunted by the lines around his eyes or the quiet pleading in his eyes. He was growing a beard for winter, grizzled through with gray. He let out a long, gusty sigh.

"I'm sorry you were left at the train station, Amber. I really am. I would have come home from work to pick you up."

"It doesn't matter, Dad." I answered bleakly. "I'm here." How could I be angry with Dad? He worked himself to the bone trying to provide for his family. And now, with Virginia's mounting medical expenses… I shut my eyes, unwilling and unable to contemplate what kind of strain that put onto my father's shoulders.

Dad reached out and put a large, calloused hand on my shoulder. "Tomorrow I'll have breakfast cooked up for you and Naomi. Then we'll go to the hospital and visit Virginia."

"Sounds wonderful."

Dad half-smiled. "I can't tell if you're being serious or sarcastic, love."

I shrugged. "Maybe I'm both."

Dad gave a soft chuckle. "What kinds of things are they teaching you at Hogwarts? Clearly not manners."

I felt heat climb into my face. Ashamed, I tried to backpedal. "I didn't-"
Dad held up a hand for silence. "It's alright, Amber. I was just teasing."

My shoulders drooped. "Oh."

Dad searched my face intently. "I love you, Amber. Don't ever think otherwise."

I couldn't raise my head to look at him. If I did, the tears would come, and I doubted I could stop them. So instead I nodded once and chewed my lower lip.

Dad reached to pull me into a hug, but was stopped short by the sound of a softly shutting door. Heeled boots clacked against the hardwood floors.

My heart burst into a full-out gallop. The anger flared up, as hot and deadly as a geyser of lava.

Dad's eyes changed. He glanced down the stairs. He looked hesitant, but asked quietly, "Amber… Would you like to see your mother?"

He wanted me to reconcile with her. To see her after she'd forgotten me at the train station. He wanted me to go to her.

I stared at Dad. Then I let my bedroom door shut in his face and on his request.