You guys are seriously THE BEST! Your reviews inspire me to continue with this story and give it all I've got to finish it. There's some very interesting/game-changing events coming for the Marauders, and this is when we really start to wonder WHY things have happened the way they did and how Amber and the boys will handle the rising of the Dark Lord. The plot thickens... As always I look forward to hearing your responses and reviews :) 3 Y'all are the BEST!

EUGENIA JENKINS RESIGNS: NEW MINISTER FOR MAGIC HAROLD MINCHUM SWORN IN

Eugenia Jenkins, the British Prime Minister for Magic since 1968, has stepped down from her post last night, after being deemed inadequate by critics to handle the uprising of the Dark Lord.

Jenkins was replaced by Harold Minchum, who has worked for the Ministry of Magic Auror Office for the past nineteen years. Minchum gave a speech following his inauguration early this morning in an exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet.

"Following the number of incidents directed at both Muggles and magic-folk alike, including on children in the unforgivable attacks on Platform 9 ¾ last September, the attack at Hogwarts this past June, and this most recent attack on the Hogwarts Express has led me into the position of Minister." Minchum said. "I want the Wizarding community to know that my past two decades worth of experience in dealing with Dark wizards will empower us to snuff out this Dark Lord and his followers, known as the Death Eaters. We have already regained control over the dementors that attacked the Hogwarts Express and returned them to their rightful posts at Azkaban. In addition, we have placed more dementors around the prison in order to hold those who have been convicted of Dark magic. There is a cell inside with the Dark Lord's name waiting for him."

Minchum is viewed by his critics as a hard-liner, and his promised implementation of more dementors around Azkaban has been met with both support and disagreement. Jenkins was unavailable for comment concerning her departure, but Barty Crouch, Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has shown great enthusiasm for the newest Minister for Magic.

"Minchum is a fighter." Crouch said to Daily Prophet reporter Willy Wagstaff. "He'll fight fire with fire. Minchum is exactly the kind of driving force we need in these coming days of uncertainty and war on the Dark Arts."

I set down the paper as I reached for a crumpet. It seemed that everyone in the school had already heard the news. Last night, while most people slept, Eugenia Jenkins had been ousted from office and Harold Minchum had taken over. The Great Hall buzzed with activity. Even the staff were talking animatedly amongst each other, hands in the air and voices raised.

"I hope this one makes it." Lily said as she ate her bagel. "I can't imagine many people who would want the job in this state of things."

"Dad said that Barty Crouch wanted it." Remus said in an offhand tone. "Really badly. But I guess now he's throwing his support behind Minchum since he didn't get it."

I remembered Crouch from the past spring, when he had grilled me about the impending attack on Hogwarts. I set down my glass of pumpkin juice more forcefully than necessary, startling Lily.

"I hope he's what we need." I muttered. "Crouch manhandles."

"Maybe that's what we need." Lily mused as she wiped up a few spots of pumpkin juice that I had splashed onto the table. I glared at her, affronted.

"The last thing we need is another weak-willed pacifist." Lily argued, her green eyes sparkling defensive. "I think we ought to have someone willing to fight, don't you?"

"I guess." I said brittlely, sipping pumpkin juice as Remus's owl Percival fluttered down, a letter tied to his leg.

"It's from Mum," Remus said after reading the first lines. "She's really worried. She's a Muggle, so she doesn't really understand magic too well. She wants me to come home."

I pinned him with my gaze. "You aren't going to leave?"

Remus shook his head, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. "No, of course not. Hogwarts is at safe as any place."

"Maybe." Lily said drilly. "I mean, it's already been attacked three times."

"I'd rather be where Dumbledore is." Remus retorted in a collected voice. "He's the only wizard You-Know-Who ever feared."

I half-listened to them banter as I glanced through the rest of the Daily Prophet. Not many other students had a daily subscription to the post, so very few others were actually reading through the rest of the news. There was a small article in the Sports section mentioning the upcoming dates of all Quidditch matches for Britain's teams, including the Falmouth Falcons. I remembered the tickets Mara had given me to see any Montrose Magpies games and wondered if she'd let me trade them to see Sean play.

I hadn't spoken to Sean since my birthday. He'd sent letters, but I'd responded with minimal interest and detail. I was determined to enforce the line I had drawn with him and Remus. Neither seemed too deterred by my boundaries. It was both flattering and annoying to have two boys share a rivalry over me, mostly because I never expected a guy to like me in that way. Especially two guys.

I shut my eyes, rubbing my temples as a slight headache pulsed between my eyes. I hadn't slept much at all last night and could now feel the cost of that choice coming to reap the consequences. My eyes were itchy and my whole body felt heavy. I wanted nothing more than to lay down on the floor of the Great Hall and sleep, but the fear of sleepwalking and of nightmares frightened me enough to keep me awake.

I didn't know what I was going to do about the whole Remus-or-Sean situation. I was burdened enough with schoolwork and my family's constant drama without adding a romantic relationship to it. I was afraid that I would snap under all of the pressure and let out a soft moan of despair. The notion of facing a whole year of this combined stress made me want to run away from Hogwarts and back to the simplicity of my family's farmhouse. Even worse, O.W.L.S. were only one year away, and then N.E.W.T.-level examinations. I sagged forward onto my elbows, fighting the urge to cry. It was just too much.

"Amber?" Lily asked gently, concerned. "Are you alright?"

I bit my lip before answering, fighting to control the burning in my throat that always warned of incoming tears. "I'm… fine." I lied.

"Have some tea." Remus encouraged. "Trust me, it'll help."

Miserably, I accepted the small cup of brown tea he offered. It smelled like chamomile and lavender. I drank gratefully, melting the hot swell of tears in my throat and filling me with a soothing warmth that took the edge off of the mounting stress.

"Maybe you should take the day off." Lily suggested. "You had a really bad reaction to the dementor yesterday, and last night you didn't sleep at all. I'm sure the professors would give you time to finish your coursework later. You're an exemplary student, second only to me."

"And me." Remus added with an amused tinge to his voice.

I smiled briefly, shaking my head wistfully. "I can't. I don't want to miss the first day of classes. That's when they talk about what's coming in the school year."

"Oh, come on, Amber." Lily sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "All they do is talk about the syllabus and they always let us out early. You won't miss much if you take today off. Plus, we can tell you what's coming later. Rest."

"I agree with Lily." Remus said, and I turned to give him a look of disgust. He blinked his leaf-green eyes at me innocently. "You need to rest."

"Traitor." I muttered blackly as I took another deep sip of tea. "You're taking her side to gang up on me."

"Tough love never hurt anyone." Lily said cheerfully. "I'll have Madam Pomfrey write you a note. In fact, you should go there right now."

"And why would I do that?" I demanded.

Lily made an annoyed noise. "To sleep? I'm sure she'd give you a good Sleeping Draught. No sleepwalking, no nightmares. Just sleep. Come on, Amber. You need it. You'll feel much better."

Remus nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "It's not like you'll be missing much."

I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "Fine. I'll skive off classes today and rest. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Lily said cheerfully. James and Sirius were coming towards us. Today, Remus and Lily had joined me at Ravenclaw's table, and I saw a few of my fellow Housemates throw irritated looks at the incoming Gryffindors. Lily noticed too and jumped up from the table, leaving behind her half-eaten bagel.

"I should get to class." She said briskly, brushing her long hair with her hand. "I'll tell Professor Sprout that you're ill, Amber. Make sure you go see Madam Pomfrey."

She left. James and Sirius alighted on the bench moments after she departed. James frowned, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"Where was the fire?" He asked casually, helping himself to the other half of her bagel.

I watched him with a mixture of pity and amusement. "She wanted to make a good impression with our Herbology professor. We have it with the Hufflepuffs first-thing."

James blinked owlishly at me. "Blimey, you look awful."

"Thanks." I said dryly. "Talk like that to the ladies and you'll definitely win them over."

James shrugged and took a hearty bite of bagel. "So, what happened last night? Remus said you had a night-time excursion."

"Without us." Sirius added accusingly. "You know, it's the five Marauders, not the one female Marauder."

"Oh, yeah," I replied tartly, "because I always make sure to sleepwalk without inviting my friends to come along with me. I'm so sorry."

"Guys," Remus said in a cajoling tone, drinking his tea and half-reading the Daily Prophet I'd put down, "relax."

"It's not my fault that Lionheart didn't get her beauty sleep." James shot back.

"She doesn't need sleep to be beautiful." Remus said lightly, and I felt a blush work its way up into my sallow cheeks. "But I'm sure she didn't mean to make you feel left out."

"I can speak for myself." I told him as Peter perched beside James and Sirius, unusually withdrawn and scared-looking.

"Anyway," Sirius said, stroking Percival's feathers as the owl helped himself to a bowl of unattended cornflakes, "we should start thinking about our first meeting now that we're back. Shrieking Shack tonight around nine?"

"Not tonight." Remus said. "Amber's sick."

"Are you?" James said doubtfully.

"No, I'm just tired." I responded waspishly, getting seriously annoyed. I hardly had the patience to deal with him and Sirius when I had a good night's sleep and my wits about me. Right now, I was one more snide comment away from jinxing them both.

"Too much reading?" Sirius guessed.

"Not really." I said. "I'll tell you about it later. Tonight's fine, by the way, I'm going to sleep all day, so I'll be awake for tonight. Nine, you said?"

"Yeah." James said, watching me with a bemused expression. "You do look very pretty today, Amber."

A flush jumped from my stomach into my face. "Excuse me?"

James smiled innocently. "What? You said being honest wouldn't work with the ladies. This tact produced a much better reaction. Thanks for being my test subject, Lionheart."

I gripped my wand so tightly my fingers cramped. Remus laid a hand on my arm, shaking his head. "Not this early, Amber, you'll put him in the hospital wing."

I glared down at James, who was grinning now. "Just wait, Potter. Keep it up."

"Always here to serve." James gave a tiny bow. Sirius snickered.

I turned and smiled down briefly at Remus, seized with a sudden and strong urge to kiss him goodbye. I fought it and instead said, "I'll see you tonight" and left the table.

I shook my head as I exited the Great Hall, a roiling storm of emotions blowing about inside of me. Remus said he didn't want to be more than friends. But I knew we both liked each other much more than in just a friendly, platonic way. I wanted to be with him, to be more than just his friend. And I knew, instinctively, that he felt the same way too, even if he denied it.

And wouldn't it be a good match? We were both best friends. He understood me in ways that not even Lily could fathom. He understood suffering and pain. Lily tried to, but hadn't had the personal experience as I had. Remus did. His ill-fated relationship with Angelina had cemented my desire to be with him, but what was the point if he didn't want to get closer? It didn't help that my love for him was only getting stronger with each passing day. It was getting harder to deny my feelings for him.

Angelina. Her name brought back the ghastly image of her body lying in the Forbidden Forest and the accusing finger she pointed right at me. I shivered and rubbed my arms, looking down at the threshold of the Great Hall where we had brawled last year, after she'd kissed Remus in front of me for spite. What would have happened if she was still alive? Would they have gotten back together? Would Angelina and I have repaired our broken friendship?

I paused in mid-step. I could go back to the now-empty Ravenclaw Tower and face another nightmare-filled sleep, or stay awake and try and find some answers. Who was that ghost that I had seen last night and all those years ago during my first night at Hogwarts? Surely, other ghosts must have known him.

And maybe… maybe he would be able to tell me why Angelina haunted my dreams. Why those two men did, and the dead woman. Dumbledore hadn't provided any satisfactory answers. But maybe my answers concerning the dead couldn't be found among the living.

Besides, I owed the mysterious boy ghost a huge thank-you for last night. He had very well likely saved my life.

Instead of walking toward Ravenclaw Tower, I changed course and set off for the lower levels of the castle, in search of any ghost I could find.

But there were no ghosts around. It was still too early for classes, so the halls were deserted as I walked through them, my footfalls echoing eerily back to me. Dark clouds rolled overhead outside the windows; it looked like another stormy day at Hogwarts.

The air was colder as I descended two levels. After drinking a cup of pumpkin juice and tea, my bladder was protesting. I pushed the door open to the girl's lavatories and stepped inside the first stall. The lavatory had a distinctly-neglected air about it. I noticed green mossing growing on the floor and spots of mildew on the toilet paper. I wondered when someone had last used the facilities. It clearly had been a long time, maybe even years.

When I was washing my hands, I dared to look at my reflection. I gave a small gasp of despair. My face was the color of ashy snow, and purple-like bruises circled underneath my sunken brown eyes. No longer bright and shiny, they were dull and glassy like marbles. My hair was as crazy as usual, in wild honey-blonde tresses that had coined my nickname Lionheart. I looked like a vampire.

I looked like Folsom.

I pinched at my sallow cheeks, trying to bring color back into them, when a girl's voice said, "Oh, I don't think that'll do much good."

I turned, startled, and found myself facing the translucent figure of a schoolgirl sitting on top of a stall. She looked to be around my age, with glasses like James' and a hairstyle that hadn't been popular in at least three decades. She nibbled at a finger absently as I stared at her, trying to pick out more identifying features.

"Who are you?" I asked warily, my wet hands gripping the porcelain basin of the sink.

The ghost raised her bushy brows. "Who are you? And what are you doing in my bathroom?"

"Your bathroom?" I echoed. "Actually, it's the school's bathroom…"

The ghost looked extremely offended. "It's my bathroom! I died in here, so it's my place! And what are you even doing here? Come to mock me?"

I made a noise of disbelief. "I had to pee. You know, something that happens after you drink something and it goes through your kidneys?"

The ghost rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's really nice. Speaking to me about living things. Hmpf! I'd say you were a Slytherin because you're so obtuse, but I see you're wearing blue, so you must be a Ravenclaw."

I raised my brows. I noticed, for the first time, the eagle emblem on the lapel of her tweed jacket. The girl glared down at me, folding her arms.

"Well?" She demanded haughtily, her voice shrill with indignation. "What are you staring at?"

"You were a Ravenclaw." I observed.

The girl hesitated. She was so surprised that she forgot to look offended. "Oh?"

"What's your name?" I pressed.

She picked at a spot on her chin. "Myrtle. Not that you'd care or anything."

Myrtle… The name was vaguely familiar. I had heard it before, mentioned by Professor Smith last year.

"You're Myrtle Warren." I realized aloud. "You were the girl who died when my old professor went to school! You died in this bathroom?"

"In that very spot, actually." Myrtle mused, completely forgetting to act superior and upset. She seemed excited to have an audience. "All I remember was coming out of the stall because I heard a boy's voice. A boy, in the girls' bathroom! Well, I was about to tell him to get out, when I heard this strange rasping noise, like a snake. I looked up into this great big pair of yellow eyes… and then I died."

"Just like that?" I echoed. "That sounds like a basilisk."

Myrtle shrugged. "I'm not sure what it was. I can't remember anything after that for awhile. But I do remember when they came for me. Olive Hornby found my body. Oh, I made sure she remembered, too…"

She launched into a monologue detailing how she had haunted the poor girl until the Ministry of Magic had intervened. While she chattered like an obnoxious squirrel, I thought hard. So, she had died here, likely by a basilisk, of all things. But how had such a creature come to be inside of Hogwarts? It must have been snuck in by a student. It couldn't have been that large, otherwise it would have been noticed.

Then again, Professor Smith said she had been close to Lord Voldemort (then Tom Riddle) and Folsom in her Hogwarts days. Perhaps they had something to do with it.

Or maybe someone had used the Killing Curse on her. Like how Angelina had died.

The thought made my stomach clench unpleasantly, and I remembered the ghost of the teenage boy who I had seen twice now at Hogwarts. He too reminded me of someone, but I couldn't quite recall who.

"...so then, when Peeves exploded a Dungbomb in the corridor upstairs, I decided to one-up him by flooding the entire floor-"

"Excuse me," I interrupted lightly, "but I was wondering if you could help me with something, actually."

"Help you?" Myrtle said, sounding incredulous. She folded her arms, looking haughty again. "Well, I suppose I could try."

Ignoring her attitude, I said, "I've seen a teenage boy around here. He's a ghost too. He looks to be around your age. He has dark hair and he wears Hogwarts robes, too." My eyes widened. "Wait a minute… did someone else die here, Myrtle? At school? Another student?"

Myrtle looked irritated. "Well… yes. He did. Not long after me, just a decade or so. Except he didn't die in this room."

"Where did he die?" I pressed, eager for more information. "Can you tell me his name? Please, I'm trying to talk to him. I think he might have saved my life last night." And I have to ask him about Angelina. Maybe… maybe she's a ghost too. Maybe she's haunting me.

"Oh, well, good for him." Myrtle muttered dispassionately. "I don't know where he died, but I know it wasn't in the castle. It was somewhere underground. Beneath the castle. They never found his body, but that's what he told me."

My heart quickened at her words. "What's his name?"

Myrtle rolled her eyes. "I'm much better company. What do you want to talk to him for, anyway? It's not like he's any good at talking. He mostly just floats along by himself."

"Please." I begged. "I need to talk to him. It's very, very important."

"Fine!" Myrtle snapped. "His name is Julian. Usually he haunts the plumbing underneath the castle, according to the Bloody Baron, but if you really wanted to find him, you should just ask the Gray Lady. He only listens to her."

"Thank you." I said fervently, and dashed out of the bathroom. I hurried up the stairs, still too early for breakfast to be over.

I crept into the library, which was currently vacant of students and Madam Pince. I surveyed the tall towers of books upon books upon books; it was rather overwhelming to comprehend the magnitude of knowledge that was contained just within the library of Hogwarts. Books had been collected here for nearly a thousand years. How long would it take to finish reading all of them?

I was near the Restricted Section when I saw her: the shimmering outline of a beautiful long-haired woman sitting gloomily at a table, studiously reading a book that looked to be as old as Hogwarts itself.

I walked forward purposefully, trying not to be nervous, but feeling so all the same. I knew who the ghost was, since she resembled her mother so much (her mother had a statue in our Common Room, something I passed every day). It seemed silly to be apprehensive, but the Ravenclaw ghost was known for being flighty, shy, and unwilling to entertain conversation with students. But she'd speak to me, right? I was a Ravenclaw. After all, the Gray Lady was the ghost of Ravenclaw House. It was sort of her duty to offer guidance to the students in her House. Still nervous, I cleared my throat quietly as I reached the table, trying to catch her attention without speaking or scaring her away.

The Gray Lady looked up.

"Hi," I said awkwardly, about to offer my hand to shake when I realized how stupid that would be to a ghost. I hastily stuffed my hands into my pockets. "I'm Amber Harkstone."

The Gray Lady merely looked at me, nonchalant.

"Listen," I continued hastily, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could tell me where to find a ghost named Julian? He haunts Hogwarts, but I haven't been able to find him on my own. Do you know where I could talk to him?"

The Gray Lady pursed her lips, turning her lovely face away to stare out one of the large windows carved into the walls of the library. Rain began to patter the glass, soft and tinkling.

"Please," I said inquiringly. "I need to thank him for what he did for me last night."

"Julian does not like to be disturbed." The Gray Lady said at last, in a regal and collected voice. Her gaze was still fixed on a faraway point that I could not see. I had the distinct impression that she was being vague on purpose.

"I'd still like to speak to him." I said. "Please." I added hopefully.

The Gray Lady folded her hands neatly on her lap. "You should not chase after the dead, Miss Harkstone. You will not find your sister among us."

Her words were like an unexpected slap across the face. I gaped at her, momentarily lost for words. How had she known about Virginia?

"I know of your loss." She went on slowly, as if reading my thoughts. "And I know what pursues you. You should be very, very careful. When I was young, I thought I wanted wisdom. In truth, I merely wanted to know all the answers, to be better than anyone, including my own mother. It was not wisdom I sought, but selfish personal glory." She pressed her lips into a fine line, as if she was regretting saying that last part.

"How… how dare you?" I said in disbelief. "You think… I know my sister is gone. Besides, you don't even know me! I just wanted to know where Julian is. I need answers, not… not personal glory." I said in a tone of disgust.

The Gray Lady turned to face me now, and I was shocked to see real, hot emotion burning like coals in her smoky eyes.

"You are a very strange girl, Amber. Not many people would seek out the echo of a soul. After all, that is all ghosts are. Why would you go digging for answers when you may unearth bones? Why do you invite danger into your reckless life?"

"That's none of your business." I said stiffly. "Please. Just tell me… can I talk to Julian?"

The Gray Lady closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they were distant and cold again.

"You may not want to talk to Julian." She said softly as she rose from her seat and began to drift away.

I followed her impatiently. "Why not?"

The Gray Lady floated into the Restricted Section. I followed without the least hesitation. "Why not?" I repeated, less politely.

"Wait here." She said in her vague, haughty voice. "If he wishes to speak to you, he will find you here."

"Wait just a minute…" I began, but too late. She had vanished behind a solid wall. I paced, fuming with frustration. Ghosts did not seem to understand the physical implications of humanity anymore; they did not feel the accelerated heartbeat, the sweat in their palms, the urge to move around. They felt nothing. At least, not anything like the living did.

After ten minutes, I gave up my nervous pacing and plopped down on an ancient leather chair that squeaked loudly with age. I avoided picking up a book; the last time I had, I had fallen asleep and woken up in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. So instead I propped my chin up on my hand and watched the dancing firelight of the hearth on the other side of the room, counting the seconds and hoping the Gray Lady would return with her ward.

I sat, mesmerized by the leaping and crackling flames. It was so peaceful, so quiet… and I hadn't slept more than an hour last night…

I yawned and shook my head, trying to clear it, but a slow lullaby seemed to be playing nearby. It was a melody played on a flute. Slowly, my head sagged forward, and I knew I was fighting a losing battle as my eyelids drifted shut.

I felt something cold blowing across my face as I startled awake. I looked around frantically, cursing myself for falling asleep so easily. Hadn't the whole point of me staying awake been so that I could speak to a ghost?

But something felt odd. As I tried to stand up, my legs wouldn't obey. Frowning, I tried kicking them forward, but nothing happened. I remained seated, stuck.

"I wouldn't waste your time." A low voice said calmly. I whirled around, connecting gazes with a young man, shimmering and iridescent blue-gray in the light of the library.

"Julian." I said, flabbergasted.

The young man blinked owlishly. Up close, I could see that he had been tall and handsome as a young man. His hair was styled in a do that was several years out of date, and his uniform revealed him to be a fellow Ravenclaw, as I was.

"I can't get up." I said somewhat lamely. "I think this chair is hexed."

Julian shook his head slightly. "Not in the way you think it is. This was Rowena Ravenclaw's Chair of Dissonance. It allows you to separate your mind from your body after you enter sleep. It plays a lullaby to help one enter subconsciousness."

I gaped at him, sure I'd heard wrong.

"Try floating." He suggested.

I watched him dubiously, wondering if I was being tricked, but decided to give it a chance. To my horrified wonder, I drifted straight up.

Leaving my unconscious body behind in the chair, slumped over and lifeless.

"Am I dead?" I gasped, staring down at my hands, which still looked the same except now they were clearly see-through. Unlike Julian, who was silvery-blue, I was still in full color. But we were both made-up of a material less than flesh and more than air. I fought a violent rise of panic as I hovered over the ground, unsure of what I was.

"As I said, you are merely temporarily separated from your body." Julian said calmly. "You will be reunited once you return to it."

I stared at this strange boy, suddenly uncertain of what I was getting myself into. Already, there was magic far beyond anything I could dream that I was dealing with. Three years at Hogwarts had not prepared me for something like this. I fought the strong current of wayward emotions warning me not to proceed, to remain in my comfort zone. But what good would that do? If I wanted answers, I would have to risk the unknown and seek guidance from this odd young ghost.

Julian's dark eyes pierced me as we regarded each other. And it struck me then why the look unnerved me so much: it was just like Folsom's icy glare that had pinned me more times than I could count.

"I was told," Julian said in a quiet, depressed tone, "you wish to speak to me."

I chewed my lower lip, but felt no physical feel. It made sense, since I was technically not made of flesh, but the notion made me shiver with misgivings. But I had come this far. And time was running out. If I wanted answers, now was the time to ask.

"First, I wanted to thank you." I said slowly. "For what you did last night. You brought me out of that trance. If you hadn't… I don't know if I would have been able to do it myself. I could have died if it wasn't for you. So… thank you."

Julian merely looked at me.

I struggled with a rush of uncertainty. Would he even know about Angelina? Would he tell me the truth? He seemed harder to talk to than the Gray Lady.

"Do you know anything about a girl named Angelina Azadian?" I dared to ask. Her name hung in the air like mist. I watched Julian's face for any sign of recognition, but it remained impassive, stony. Dead.

"She died last year. She was… murdered. Like Myrtle."

"Like me." Julian said quietly.

"Sorry?" I said, sure I'd heard wrong.

"Come with me." Julian murmured, drifting past without waiting for me to answer. "I have something to show you that I could not until now. Perhaps it will unlock niches of information that would be beneficial to you. If it is answers you seek, I may have some of them for you in this place."

Before I could stop him, he drifted away. Not sure how to move without a body, I focused hard on following Julian, and to my astonishment, my silvery form soared after him. It wasn't much different than flying on a broomstick, and I found myself calming down as I was reassured of my control.

Julian was traveling down through the floors of the school. Disoriented, I tried not to think about how odd it was that I was literally passing through solid stone and mortar as we floated deeper into the depths of the school. Darker, colder air made it hard to see, but Julian continued without any hesitation.

Deeper. Much colder now. I began to worry that we would never stop when we passed through solid, endless stone. I nearly panicked, when just as suddenly, we were back in open space and air. It looked like we were now inside of a long, downward-sloping tunnel.

Julian's iridescent light gave off faint silver illumination as we passed through the long, dark tunnel. Farther and farther we went, until I was about to call him back and ask him to bring me back to the safety of the library. But then the tunnel yawned into a huge, dark, dripping cavern, and I stopped dead, in utter bewilderment.

Julian had paused as well, turning to face me. His vacant eyes were boring into me, and again I felt the awful feeling that it was Folsom, not Julian, who was staring at me. I broke our eye contact and observed the cave-like room we were in. Stalactites and stalagmites jutted out from the ceiling and the floor like giant fangs, and dark, greenish water dripped from them onto the wet floor, pooling in a flat sheet of gloomy green water. I had the impression that we were very far beneath the school, maybe even a mile, but it was still connected to Hogwarts.

"Where are we?" I asked as I drifted to Julian, watching my shimmering, ghostly reflection in the stagnant water pooled on the stone floor.

"Beneath the Lake." Julian responded, gesturing deeper into the gloomy cave. "This way."

Filled with trepidation, but not wanting to waste my effort of arriving here in the first place, I followed him yet again. Not long after, we arrived at a circular door engraved with several menacing stone serpents. We floated through like it wasn't there.

I let out a gasp of shock. We had arrived in a hall-like room. There was a strangely manmade length of smooth, polished stone running from the door to a grotesque, giant marble head, monkey-like and ancient. Giant, curved snake statues lined the pathway to the terrible face, and Julian began to gravitate toward the statue. For the first time, I did not follow.

Julian glanced over his shoulder at me. "This way."

But I didn't want to go any further. A small voice in my head was warning me that this was a bad idea. That if I went any further on this quest for answers, I would surely pay the price for learning secrets I was not meant to know.

Angelina's face flashed in my mind, and I pursed my lips tightly. How many more days and nights did I want to go through my life with her memory haunting me? I wanted peace and answers, and somehow I knew that this ghost knew some of the missing puzzle pieces that I needed so desperately.

With an iron effort, I forced myself forward. Julian led me to the end of the pavilion. We stood before the gigantic stone face, even more ghastly up close. It was strangely familiar.

"Do you think you could tell me why we're down here now?" I asked at last, not wanting to be in this eerie place any longer than necessary. It felt like a tomb, a crypt. A place not meant for the living.

Julian turned his head to face me slightly. His eyes traveled down my neck to where my opal necklace rested. He reached out a ghostly hand and touched it softly. I felt the necklace tremble slightly, and then, without warning, the room spun around us in a tornado of flashing colors and sounds.

I tried to scream, but my throat was too tight. I couldn't move or make a sound. It the same awful sensation of Disapparating, something I'd felt just twice in my life. And then, after feeling like I had been spinning on the inside of a car tire barreling down the highway, the movement abruptly halted. I gasped for air, retching, but I didn't have a body anymore. The actions didn't relieve my horror until something else distracted me.

Something worse than a spinning room.

A strikingly handsome young man was striding down the stone walkway. He was tall and pale-skinned, his black hair curling slightly on his perfect face. There was no way someone human could be that handsome. In spite of myself, I felt my cheeks warming. In spite of his physical beauty, I felt a strong shudder of foreboding rush through me.

"Just watch." Julian whispered, and with a start, I realized he was still here with me.

Before I could ask him what was going on, a second figure hurried forth from the darkness. At first, I thought it was Mara. And then I realized it was Willow Smith, a much younger Willow Smith.

"Tom!" She said sharply, and the young man stopped. His nostrils flared, but when he turned back to face Willow, he had schooled his face into a mask of incredulous surprise.

"I thought I told you." He said cajolingly. "Not to follow me down here anymore."

I stared, in complete disbelief, as Willow drew her wand, pointing it straight at the young man named Tom. A Head Girl badge glinted on her lapel, and I saw Tom had a Head Boy badge to match. Slytherin for him, Hufflepuff for her.

"Don't make me hex you." She breathed, but there was a sly smile on her lips that made me gawk like a fool. I had never, ever seen such a look on my teacher's face before.

Tom chuckled once, gently brushing her arm down so her wand pointed safely away. "Don't make me laugh, Will. You couldn't stop me, even if your life depended on it."

Willow seemed to take mild offense to his words. She gazed around at the room, but it didn't seem foreign to her. Rather, she seemed comfortably familiar with it. Her pale green eyes swept right through me and Julian, and it was then that the dawn of realization began to rise in me.

Were we in a memory?

"I haven't really tried before." She mused, taking a few steps away from him. She seemed to be listening for something. Willow turned to face him again, her eyes bright and mischievous. "Want to play our old game?"

Tom seemed annoyed and amused at the same time, the emotions flitting across his handsome face. "You hide, I seek? Please. I always win."

"Because I let you." Willow said airily, and I did a second double-take as she deliberately brushed out her long sweep of beautiful hair. Was she flirting with this boy? Straightlaced, formal Professor Smith? How could this be the same person?

There was a low, groaning sound, and then the ground began to rumble. Willow looked nervous, but a grin flashed across Tom's face.

"Don't worry," Tom said in his musical voice, "she's been fed. She won't hurt you."

But Willow didn't look convinced. She ducked behind a statue of a snake just in time for a huge shape to slither from the shadows of a tunnel near the giant stone face.

I immediately averted my gaze. I knew what this creature was. The basilisk hissed loudly, and I shivered. Willow seemed to share the same aversion as I did.

Tom strode confidently toward the gigantic snake, who was swaying back and forth like he was charming her with an invisible flute. I dared to peek at the face of the basilisk. She opened her huge mouth and exhaled slightly, revealing lethal, venom-filled fangs.

Tom reached out and touched her nose, without any sign of fear or hesitation.

My attention was snapped back to the sound of approaching footsteps. Willow was still taking refuge behind a statue as a third figure made his way down the stone pathway, his steps slow and measured. He had the same gait as a man approaching the gallows.

"I thought I might find you down here." The familiar voice intoned, and I gasped again.

It was Folsom.

He was still human, not as emaciated-looking as I remembered him. He was also clearly still a teenager, his high cheekbones clashing with his lack of facial hair. He looked younger, healthier… but just as malevolent and cold as ever.

Tom's face hardened. The basilisk hissed warningly.

"You aren't supposed to be down here either, Vincent." Tom said in a dangerously low voice.

"You left the door open." Folsom said lightly.

"My mistake, of course." Tom said back, but I knew he wasn't pleased at all.

Willow emerged then from her hiding place. I saw Folsom's gaze flicker to her in surprise, and then displeasure. His ice-blue eyes narrowed as he glared at Tom, pretending that the monstrous snake was not just feet away from him.

"I thought you'd agreed that Willow was not supposed to be here any longer." Folsom said in a casual tone, but it held a warning. I thought I saw his hand flicker to his wand. Tom noticed as well. Clearly, her presence with Tom bothered him very much.

"Willow is free to do as she wishes." Tom reminded him.

Willow stepped between them, palms facing outwards in a pacifying gesture. "Boys." She said, looking more than ever like her daughter without the garish scar cutting across her lovely face.

Both Folsom and Tom looked carefully controlled - but that didn't deter the sense of incoming danger that permeated the air. The basilisk hissed again.

"Why are you really here, Vincent?" Tom asked in a velvet voice. "Surely even you wouldn't wish to stalk your quarry all the way into the depths of the Chamber without good reason."

Folsom narrowed his eyes into slits. "Of course, I have my reasons. The Master wishes to speak with us at the next full moon. And he wishes to speak with you, Tom, before midnight tonight. He asked me to personally relay the message, considering you two have been rather… flighty, as of late."

Willow spread her hands wider as Tom tensed. The way he spoke his words made them sound heavy with implied innuendo.

"Enough fighting." She said firmly, but her words seemed to have no effect on Tom. A muscle jerked in his cheek, and he glared at Folsom until I was sure he was just moments away from cursing him.

"I would have figured you, of all people, would not succumb so easily to jealousy." Tom said quietly. "That you would cast aside your weak humanity in order to embrace the freedom that immortality has to offer."

"Do not speak to me of such things, Lord Voldemort." Folsom spat. "If you have not already forgotten, you are not the true Master of Death."

"Yet." Tom hissed, and I saw a gleam of scarlet in his dark eyes. "It is only a matter of time."

"Enough!" Willow said, her voice echoing loudly off of the wet rocks. The basilisk bobbed and weaved, looking eager to strike Folsom. But she waited. Evidently, she would not move until Tom commanded her.

"It seems that you do not understand," Tom said, twirling his wand in one hand almost lazily, "how I have already embarked down the path of immortality, while you remain tethered to your flesh and heart. Why is that, Vincent? Why do you hesitant to conquer Death?"

Folsom's eyes darted to Willow and then back to Tom. It was such a quick but significant action that if I had not been staring at him intently, I would not have noticed. But in that moment, a seed was planted in my mind. A seed that would explain so much…

"We all embark on our journey at the right time." Folsom hissed. "The Master told me my time has yet to come. I have unfinished business to attend to."

"Perhaps." Tom allowed. "But perhaps there are other reasons…"

Folsom drew his wand so fast that I almost missed it. Tom made a reflexive movement and a huge shield erupted from his wand just in time for the fire from Folsom's wand to hit it. Willow had vanished completely.

Both boys seemed momentarily stunned by what the other had done. And then, without another second to waste, the duel reignited.

It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The spellwork was incredible. Neither spoke, but both produced hexes and Charms that would have rivaled anything Dumbledore could have performed. A huge wall of flames erupted from Folsom's wand, in the shapes of terrible, snarling beasts. The leaping animalistic flames flashed toward Tom. He flicked his wand, and an invisible shield seemed to bounce the fire back, which then folded in upon itself and began a swarming mass of black locusts, which turned on Folsom. Folsom reacted by holding his wand in front of him like a torch; a large green flame at the top of it seemed to part the sea of hurtling locusts. There was a brief second when I saw the opening just as Tom did. He snarled something in a guttural language, and the snake at his side hissed in response. The basilisk lunged forward, her jaws open wide, aiming right for Folsom.

The room froze.

Ice had appeared on every surface: the snake, Folsom, Tom, the stones. Everything was encased in white and literally frozen in time. I saw Willow emerge from her hiding place behind a snake statue, her wand clutched tightly in her hand.

Somehow, she had used incredibly complex magic to literally freeze the room into a solid, impenetrable icy room. The stalactites had turned to lethal-looking icicles, hanging from the ceiling of the cavern like overripe fruit, ready to drop.

I watched as Willow walked between the two men, watching the basilisk with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? Or sorrow? It was too difficult to interpret.

She made a few more complicated movements with her wand. The light vanished from the greenish gloom of the cavern until it was black, save for the green light emanating from her upheld wand. She murmured a strange incantation, and I heard a soft sighing sound.

I waited, terrified, as the figures of Folsom and Tom came into the light. Neither appeared to have had any memory of what had just transpired. The basilisk was evidently gone, slithered back to her dark shadows beyond the circle of light that Willow held aloft.

"The Master summoned me?" Tom asked Folsom politely in his cool voice.

"Yes." Folsom said gravely. "It is best if we go now."

Tom nodded once. "Very well. I shall require the company of just one." His black eyes slid to Willow's face, strangely shadowed and eerie-looking in the green light of her wand. "Care to join me?"

Willow's face remained impassive. She nodded once. "I will."

She and Tom began to move out of the wandlight. Just before, the iridescence of her wand's light revealed the ugly contorting of Folsom's face. It was a look I had seen on him before. It made me feel sick with apprehension for whoever he harbored his hatred for.

The jealousy twisting his face was as stark as the grotesque leer on the stone statue face in the darkness behind him. Jealousy invoked violence, greed, and bitterness. I wanted to run from the hot waves of dangerous energy rolling off of him, when suddenly, the illumination of what I had just witnessed gave its full impact upon me.

The scene faded. Julian and I were standing again, floating above the ground in the same room. But it was brighter now, and older-looking. Clearly, time had passed between the time the three wizards had been here and when we had arrived.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. The thought of what I was considering was absurd. Too absurd. Far too crazy.

But yet, it fit. And maybe it explained more than I initially gave it merit for.

"He… Folsom… Tom… He's… Lord Vol…" I couldn't bring myself to say the name aloud anymore. I struggled to verbalize the hurricane of emotions and thoughts swirling inside of me. "Willow was friends with them. How did they get down here? Who's the Master?"

Julian merely looked down at his feet. I hadn't seen it before, or perhaps I just hadn't noticed. I focused on it for a brief moment and let out a horrified gasp.

It was a skeleton. Wearing a Ravenclaw outfit.

The exact same one that Julian was wearing.

I stared at him in dawning horror. "You… this is where you died? How?"

Julian blinked slowly, his eyes closed for a long time. They were still closed when he spoke again.

"I was murdered here in my sixth year by The Master." He said quietly. "And I cannot tell you his identity. It is a cursed name, and I cannot speak of it. My very tongue is bound, even in death. But perhaps what you have seen will have illuminated your mind. Perhaps I could help you piece together part of the puzzle."

I struggled to speak. My mind was too full again, and I longed for Dumbledore's Pensieve, to empty my thoughts into the shimmering stone basin.

"Folsom… he was jealous of them. He was jealous of Tom! Merlin's beard… He was in love with Willow, wasn't he? He could be Mara's father!"

But Julian didn't seem to be listening. Instead, he reached out for my necklace. Instinctively, I backed up. I knew, viscerally, that the memory I had just witnessed had been because of the necklace and because he had touched it. But I wasn't entirely sure how this necklace worked just yet… especially since Willow herself had told me that it was just a mere copy.

She had apparently been mistaken. Or lying to me.

"The more important thing to remember is that those three were here for a reason." Julian murmured, and he opened his eyes now, training them on me. "You must speak to your friends now. Only they can help you now. I am forbidden to speak of this any more."

"But wait!" I shouted, half-desperate for answers as he began to drift away from his remains as if they were of no importance to him. "Why can't you speak about this? If you know anything about how Angelina died, tell me! Did the Master kill her too? Was it Folsom? How did Folsom became a vampire? What does this have to do with me? I need to know! He's after me, Julian. I don't know what to do anymore. Please. I need you."

"The one who laid a curse on me is the reason I cannot speak to you about what you seek." Julian murmured, withdrawing into himself. I could see it happening as if the lights were turning off inside of a house. His eyes became blank and unfocused again. "I can't…"

"Why not?" I pressed, hard. "Who laid a curse on you? Why can't you tell me more?"

"Because," he said as he drifted toward the stone face of the ugly ancient man, "my father is the one who wants to kill you. He laid the curse on me." He vanished, but his voice was still echoing back to me when he said, "You see.. Folsom was my father."