At that precise moment, I was jolted hard from my place near Julian's bones. There was a flash of black and then I was jumping out of my seat, gasping for air. It took me a frenzied moment to realize that I was back inside of the Restricted Section. As if I had never left.

A million thoughts pulsed through my mind, each one clamoring for the center of attention, but it was all I could do to stumble out of the Restricted Section and into the cavernous library. It reminded me so forcefully of the cathedral-like cave beneath the school that for a moment I was too dazed to move.

What on earth had just happened to me?

I struggled to exit the library. Madam Pince was glaring at me from her perch, clearly wondering how I had gotten into her library in the first place. It meant that breakfast was over. The steady pounding of rain against the windows made it impossible to tell what time of day it was. How long had I been out of my body? How much time had elapsed between me falling asleep in the chair and waking up?

I staggered on shaking legs back to the Ravenclaw Common Room. It was empty. Classes must have been in session still, so it wasn't dinner time yet. I dug through my trunk, hardly unpacked yet, and unearthed three of the glass vials that Mara had given to me last night. With trembling hands, I carefully extracted my most recent memories, feeling a relaxing wave of relief for each memory I removed from my overflowing mind.

A few minutes later, three glass vials - all corked with swirling silver memories drifting serenely inside - sat before me. I passed a shaking hand over my face, sweat wiping off onto my cold fingers. I leaned back against my bed, closing my eyes as the angry pounding of my heartbeat slowed into a proper, steady rhythm.

Julian's father wants to kill me. Folsom was his father.

How did that make sense? He was only one who wanted to kill me, as far as I knew, and he was a vampire. Vampires couldn't have children. And if Julian was his son, that meant that Folsom had been a young father. A very young father, a teenager or freshly out of Hogwarts.

I shook my head, trying to clear it of the remaining dizziness. Folsom didn't have any children. How could Julian be his? The other Marauders and I had seen it in the file we'd stolen from Mr. Black's office. 'No wife or living children'. It had been there, official and in dried black ink.

But then again… perhaps we had read it wrong. Or maybe the Ministry had messed up. Maybe when it had meant that not only had he never married, but his children had once been alive.

But no longer.

I exhaled loudly through my teeth, wishing I had the answers. I believed Julian when he said that he was bound under a curse, unable to reveal information pertaining to his murder. The fact that he could tell me his father was Folsom sent a shiver down my spine. It meant that maybe Folsom wasn't the biggest threat out there.

It was Tom… who appeared to be the much-younger version of Lord Voldemort. I bit my lip as I remembered the mysterious person of whom they'd had spoken of with reverance and respect.

The Master. Who could possibly be "The Master"? It certainly wasn't Lord Voldemort or Folsom or Willow.

Willow. In spite of myself, a single tear escaped from my closed eyelids and slipped down my cheek. How could my dear professor have possibly been so mixed-up with the Dark Arts in her youth? She had looked to be only three or so years older than I was in the memory I had witnessed. She was definitely old enough to know better.

I sat there, trying to sort out the confusing array of emotions battling within me, for what could have been hours or days. There was no way I wanted to fall back to sleep now, not with so much information I knew I needed to relay to the Marauders right away.

And maybe I would need to confide in Dumbledore, too. Even if it meant that I would be in trouble for sneaking into the Restricted Section and playing sick.

But as I thought about it, I did feel sick. Certainly not well enough to attend classes and participate. The very action of staggering to my feet had me swaying dangerously, gripping the wall for support. Groggily, I crawled into my bed and rested my head against my pillows, finally allowing myself to entertain the idea of sleep.

"Amber? Amber, are you alright? Wake up."

My eyes drifted open. I blinked in the darkness of the room, my eyes adjusting to the lack of light. For a moment, I thought that Angelina was standing in front of me, talking to me. But then I remembered she was dead, and the face of the girl in front of me cleared.

"Oh." I said in a voice thick with sleep. "Hi, Miriam."

It was a fellow Ravenclaw, Miriam Tring, a fifth-year girl whom I recognized from last year during the initial Quidditch tryouts. She hadn't made the team.

"Professor Flitwick asked me to check up here and see if you were… okay." She chewed her lip and I had the impression that she had substituted the word 'okay' for 'alive'.

"Oh. Yes, I'm fine." I sat up and stretched, bones and joints creaking and snapping back into place. "I must have fallen asleep after breakfast."

Miriam nodded once. "Okay. I'll go tell him you're alright. Madam Pomfrey wants to see you, too. Also, you may want to uh… freshen up."

Heat climbed into my face as Miriam turned and left the dormitory. I checked my breath and grimaced. Morning breath.

After I had brushed my teeth and checked my appearance in the large gilded mirror (and quickly gave up any hope of trying to look better), I walked down the marble spiral staircase into the Ravenclaw Common Room. It was packed with my fellow Housemates, each of them with at least one book in their lap. Many were writing across rolls of parchment and some were talking to each other. A male student was strumming a handsome guitar in the corner, filling the room with a soothing melody. Only a few bothered to spare me a cursory glance as I walked to the exit, which suited me just fine. The less people who noticed me, the better.

At that moment, a tall girl with black glasses and straight brown hair swooped in front of me. I recognized the glint of a Head Girl badge on her lapel, and as I blinked at her hard face, I remembered that her name was Hestia Skandenberg.

"And where do you think you're going?" She asked in a lofty voice filled with disapproval. "It's after-hours. No one leaves the Common Room after curfew."

I could feel the stares of our fellow Housemates as I lifted my chin a notch in defiance. "I have an appointment with Madam Pomfrey. I've been sick in bed all day."

Hestia raised a disbelieving brow. It was plucked so thin she was in danger of having any eyebrows at all. "Really? What kind of sick? Homesickness or migraine?"

"Dragon pox, actually." I lied easily, and I heard several students behind us inhale sharply.

Dragon pox was extremely contagious and horribly disfiguring, if the victim survived. Not many did. Hestia clearly knew this, because her haughty expression turned fearful in an instant.

"Dragon pox?" She scoffed, but she took a step back. "You're making that up. You couldn't possibly have dragon pox. Everyone's supposed to be vaccinated before they come here."

"Oh, I think it's dragon pox. I haven't been feeling well since I arrived here, and my Uncle Billy did look awfully green at my birthday party last week. Besides, my family doesn't believe in vac… vac...vaccinations." I made a theatrical retching noise, clamping my hand over my mouth and swallowing loudly. "I think… oh no… it's too late."

I heard several students leap to their feet and run for the the exit. Hestia threw herself out of the way as a stampede of Ravenclaws hurried en masse through the door, trying to escape potential contamination. She gave me a long, hard glare as she left at the tail-end of the group. I was alone once again.

I grinned. After three years of running around with James and Sirius, I could clear in a room in under a minute.

I checked the grandfather clock. It was half-past eight. The boys and I had agreed to meet at the Shack at nine. Feeling much better, I saunteered down the black, iron-wrought staircase and down the tunnel that would lead me outside and to the Whomping Willow. It was truly remarkable what a solid block of sleep could do for the body.

I pushed aside a thick curtain of wisteria vines as I exited the secret tunnel. The grounds of Hogwarts sprawled before me in the half-moon light, bathed in silver. The Whomping Willow swayed back and forth, its lethal branches snapping in the cool night air.

I raised my wand and pointed it at a small twig that had fallen from the tree. "Wingardium leviosa."

The twig levitated into the air. With my wand as the guide, I directed it to fly over to the tiny knot at the base of the massive willow trunk. It hit squarely. The Willow froze, completely immobile and safe.

Grinning, I darted forth and into the tunnel. It sloped downwards, filling my nostrils with cool, pungent air. Rich, dark soil reminded me of the Forbidden Forest, and I paused in mid-stride at the memory.

You're safe. You're not eavesdropping on a band of You-Know-Who's supporters. Just stay calm and keep moving.

Wand still out and ready, I finished the long length of the underground passage and emerged through a trapdoor in the abandoned building sitting vacant and desolate just a mile from Hogsmeade. The Shrieking Shack had garnered such a reputation as a haunted building that no one dared come closer than the rickety fence circling the property. It was the perfect meeting place for the other Maruaders and I. The chance that we would be discovered was almost nil.

I could hear male voices drifting down toward me from the top floor. I passed dust-coated furniture and pictures. One was torn eerily to reveal half of a handsome young man's face. The house creaked in the light wind. It was definitely spooky, but the dilapidated condition made it that much more appealing. It was as if we were outsmarting others by using the place as a hideout.

The voices grew more distinct and familiar as I climbed to the third floor. Golden light spilled underneath a closed doorway, and I turned the knob slowly as I listened to the voices.

"...stop, you're making it worse." James' voice was filled with annoyance and resignation.

"If you'd stop moving like a little girl, I could help!" Sirius snapped.

"Oh, you two." Remus chuckled. "You fight like an old married couple."

"James, it looks really neat!" Peter squeaked.

James cursed loudly as Sirius let out a loud sigh of irritation. Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I let the door creak open.

The four boys turned to face me at once. They were all seated at a rickety table, the surface covered in several fat candles, each guttering warm flames that gave the same sense of relaxation that a campfire would. They had also nicked several baskets of food from the kitchen at Hogwarts. Four bottles of half-finished butterbeer sat on the table, along with two books that were too far away for me to make out the titles on. Remus was scanning through a third.

All four looked at me. To my surprise, James looked sheepish, of all things. I frowned.

"Hi, Amber." Sirius said amicably. "Nice of you to join us. We thought you wouldn't come."

"Nonsense." Remus dismissed. "She'll always come."

"What's going on here?" I asked shrewdly, unnerved by James' unusual stoic manner. Peter glanced at him and giggled.

"Never you mind." James said peevishly, and I put my hands on my hips, raising a brow.

"What did you do?" I asked immediately.

"Nothing!" James shot back. "Why do you always assume the worst of me? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Not on purpose, you mean." Sirius amended, and James shoved him. Sirius pushed back, and the next thing I knew they were both on the floor, throwing punches and grunting and swearing.

I gaped, momentarily lost for words, and then surged forth. Remus got to his feet and held up a hand. I stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you crazy?" I hissed. "Look! They're going to kill each other!"

"Oh, I don't think so." Remus disagreed calmly. "They both need to blow off some steam. Let them work it out."

I shook my head, stunned. I gestured to the brawl. "That's working it out?"

"For guys, yeah." Remus said. Sirius and James rolled into an old chess table, knocking it over and sending pieces scattering over the floor. Peter bit his nails in fright.

Shaking my head, I reached into the baskets and retrieved a blueberry muffin. I bit into it as the fight persisted.

"So," I said, trying to sound casual, "I uh… well, I have something to tell you all."

Remus' green gaze pinned me. "Does it involve Locke?"

I frowned. "No. Actually, I haven't heard from him in awhile. He's busy with Quidditch, I imagine, now that he's pro."

Remus nodded once, seeming to relax a little. "Good for him. What's on your mind?"

I watched Sirius land a blow on James' mouth. James spat out a tooth and grabbed a fistful of Sirius' hair, pulling it. Sirius let out a yell of pain and fought harder.

"I'll tell you more in a minute, but I had the strangest thing happen to me today. I think I talked to Folsom's son."

Remus lifted a brow. "Folsom? As in, vampire Folsom?"

"Yeah." I said, taking another bite of muffin. "He's a ghost. Oh, and the other night, I got lost in the Forbidden Forest. I was sleepwalking."

Remus listened as I recounted the events of the past two days. We sat back down and he poured me a cup of tea from a ceramic pot I hadn't noticed before. He listened raptly, leaning forward, his expression changing from concern to anger to bewilderment and finally, concern again.

I didn't know how long I'd been talking. It must have been awhile, because when I was finished, Sirius and James were seated at the table, both staring at me like I'd grown a second head.

"You… you're saying Folsom had a son?" James asked in utter disbelief. He was sporting several new cuts and bruises and he was missing a tooth, but it was nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix. Sirius too looked worse for the wear, but neither seemed to have any permanent damage. "That's impossible. His file said no living children. I remember it."

"I know it sounds crazy, but I believe the ghost. He said he was his son, and the look in his eyes was exactly like Folsom's. There was no way they weren't related at one point." I said, trying to help them understand. "I know it means Folsom would have had to be a really young father, but my parents had me a year after they graduated Hogwarts. It happens."

"But how is Folsom so… young?" James countered. "He was twenty-five when he died."

"He didn't die." I said simply. "He was changed. He would have been a vampire for years already when Julian was murdered. It couldn't have happened too long ago, but it did."

A tense silence followed. Peter was eating his fourth muffin as Sirius rubbed his jaw. Remus was skimming through his book again. I took a sip from his butterbeer. He glanced at me, but didn't say anything.

"So what you're saying is that Folsom's son was murdered at Hogwarts?" James pressed. "We should see if we can find any information on him. And why Folsom had a kid in the first place. I mean, who would want to be the mum of Folsom's kid?"

"That's another thing." I went on, taking a deep breath. "I think… I think Mara might be Folsom's daughter."

This time, an explosion of noise followed my guess. Sirius and James let out loud shouts of disapproval, while Peter gasped and nearly choked on his muffin. Remus let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head.

"You can't be serious!" James half-laughed, half-shouted. "You think Professor Smith and Folsom… oh, come on, Lionheart! You can't be that daft. I can't imagine a pair less likely to have a child together. Do you think it was a one-night stand?"

"Had to be." Sirius agreed at once. "Folsom isn't capable of love. He's stone-cold frigid, like a demon or something. I just… I can't even think about it. Mara can't be his daughter."

"You didn't see them." I said quietly. "I had some kind of vision." I toyed with the necklace. "I think it had something to do with this. I think I saw a memory. Or something from the past. It was strange."

"How…" James peered at me. "You don't have any Seer blood in you, do you?"

I shook my head. "Not that I know of. But it sort of makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, if I was Professor Smith, and the father of my child was a Dark wizard, I'd certainly never let him know he had a tie to me like that. She probably never told him."

"Or he knew, and didn't want her anyway." Sirius supplied. "But then, do you think Julian is Professor Smith's son, too? Do you think he was Mara's brother?"

I bit my lip. "No, I don't think so. I think he would have told me if Professor Smith was his mother. Besides, he didn't look a thing like her. He had some kind of curse on him… He couldn't tell me too much. But he mentioned 'The Master.'" I waited for any kind of explanation, but none came.

"'The Master'?" Sirius echoed. "I've never heard of that name before."

"Damn." I sighed. If anyone would have known of a Dark name, it would have been Sirius. He had been raised in a house practically devoted to the Dark Arts.

Sirius seemed to be reading my thoughts. "I'll see if I can find anything in Dad's office." He offered. "When I'm home next."

"Maybe." I said flatly. I had been hoping that 'The Master' would have been a recognizable name somewhere in the vaults of history, like the 'Lord Voldemort' of today.

I shuddered at the thought of the name. How could that handsome boy, Tom, have been the younger version of what would become Lord Voldemort?

"What else?" Remus prompted. "You were sleepwalking again, found a group of Lord Vol-"

"Don't say his name!" I hissed.

Remus shrugged. "Fine. You found a group of You-Know-Who's supporters in the Forbidden Forest, went with a ghost some kind of cavern underneath the school, saw a vision of the past, and the ghosts' bones. Anything else?"

I bit my lip, unwilling to say the last piece aloud. I knew that it would hurt Remus to bring her up again, but I couldn't help it. I had to let them know who haunted my dreams, more than Folsom or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"Yes." I said quietly. I stared at the guttering candles, unable to meet Remus' eyes. "Angelina. I can't stop dreaming about her. She's haunting me or something, I swear it. I don't know why, but she… I can't stop thinking about her."

I peeked at Remus. Pain flickered across his eyes like flashing minnows, but then he schooled his face carefully blank.

"You might be grieving still." He said stiffly, closing the book with a snap that made me jump guiltily. "It's hard to accept death sometimes."

"I know that." I said, thinking of Virginia and how I still couldn't quite accept that she was really gone. "It's just… it's awful, really. I see her in the Forest, and she…" I trailed off, noticing the muscle jerking in Remus' cheek and the way he was staring into the dark shadows beyond us.

"I think you need time." James said, surprising me. He wiped off some dried blood on his face with the back of his hand. "It was a scary day for all of us, you know? Stuff like that is hard to forget."

"I'll never forget the train being bombed." Sirius agreed, his gray eyes haunted. "The way it made the ground shake… the ones who didn't make it…"

"Lovely topics, I know." I said bracingly, in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood. "But I needed to tell you. It's right that all of us know these things."

"Thank you." James said, the candlelight reflecting off his glasses, making them look briefly opaque.

"For what?" I asked, frowning.

"For trusting us." James said simply.

A warm feeling spread within me, like the sun rising over a lake. Before I could say another word, though, Remus cleared his throat.

"Oh." Sirius said vaguely, snapping his fingers and digging into his back pocket. He presented a mirror.

"What's this?" I asked, reaching for it. Sirius allowed me to handle it. The small mirror showed nothing but my own reflection.

"It's a special two-way mirror." Sirius explained. "James has the other one. But if we ever need to have a dual-way of communicating, well, we've got one now."
"Let me guess." I said dryly, handing it back to him. "Another gift from your family?"

"Something like that, yeah." Sirius said, stowing it. "It's pretty cool, actually. Dad found it in Borgin and Burke's a few years ago and passed it down to me and Regulus. Of course, I stole the other one from him and gave it to James. He's my real brother."

I didn't like that Sirius and Regulus still hadn't mended their broken brotherhood and changed the subject. I eyed James curiously. "So, why were you and Sirius fighting? I overheard you saying something about something not being right."

James flushed. He pushed away from the table, swearing. I watched, bemused, as he paced like a caged tiger along the length of the room in the dim shadows.

"He's just a little self-conscious right now." Sirius chuckled.

"Shut up, Padfoot." James snarled, and I was intrigued at his tone.

"James!" I balked. "What's the matter?"

James threw me a dark look and pointed an accusing finger at Sirius. "Why don't you ask him? It's his fault!"

"Is not!" Sirius shouted back, looking indignant. "I told you, physical changes were a normal part of the process! I had a few issues myself before I made the transformation complete."

At a total loss, I looked at Remus for clarity, but he merely shook his head and delved back into his book.

"Would someone please tell me what's going on?" I demanded, feeling the first twinges of real annoyance.

"James had a bit of a… malfunction." Peter said in a small voice.

"It's not permanent!" James snarled, and Peter winced.

"What's wrong, exactly?" I asked again, moving closer.

James shook his head in disgust. "Fine. I might as well show you."

I illuminated my wand tip and held it up. At first, I didn't see anything wrong. And then I noticed the strange outline silhouetted in the wandlight.

"James… what…" I gasped as I realized what it was. It was impossible, but it was there. Unmistakebly real and tangible.

James Potter had sprouted a pair of handsome deer antlers.

I gaped at him first, and then at the boys. Peter looked grave, Remus shrugged and Sirius burst into a refreshed round of laughter.

"It's not funny!" James roared, which only added fuel to the fire. Sirius fell out of his chair, snorting.

"What… is this part of the process of becoming an Animagus?" I asked weakly, remembering my own temporary yellow eyes.

"Yeah." James said glumly. "That's why Remus is looking for answers in the book. But I guess I'll have to go to Madam Pomfrey to have her fix them. I'll just tell her Sirius hexed me."

I reached out gingerly and touched one. It was hard as bone.

"Don't." James groaned, pulling back.

"Sorry." I apologized quickly, at a loss.

Sirius giggled from the floor. "Don't be ashamed mate. You're at least a fourteen-point buck."

James let out a yell and launched himself at Sirius again.

I rolled my eyes, unwilling to observe another fight. I raised a brow, looking at Remus inquiringly. He met my gaze squarely.

"Care for a walk?" I asked, and I watched his guarded expression falter.

"Just the two of us?" He responded, blinking owlishly.

I shrugged. "They can join us after they've had their fight. I need some fresh air."
"Alright." Remus said, and rose to his feet. Peter looked torn. He didn't want to leave his beloved Sirius and James, but at the same time, didn't want to be left alone with their continous brawling.

"You can come too, Peter." I offered.

Peter looked torn. "I don't… I don't know."

"Suit yourself." I almost reached for Remus' hand and had to remind myself that our bond was not like that. We were just friends. Swallowing against the rush of heat that flooded to my face, I walked with him down the narrow steps towards the front door.

"You've got a lot on your mind again." Remus observed as we unlocked the door and stepped outside into the cool night air.

My eyes drifted to the black mass of the Forbidden Forest. Were He-Who-Must-Be-Named's supporters congregating there tonight for another meeting?
And Julian. Where had he taken me? Was Folsom Mara's father? Who was this 'Master'? Why did my necklace give me a vision of the past? How come Angelina's memory haunted me?

And then there were other things to think about. Would I be on the Quidditch team again this year? How would the Slug Club affect my already-busy schedule? How soon could I be a fully-fledged Animagus like Sirius? Would Lily's affection for my cousin blossom into something more? Something like what could have been between me and Sean… or me and Remus?

"Hey." Remus said, jerking me out of my storm of thoughts. "You've got that look again."

"What look?" I asked drilly as we walked down the overgrown stone pathway, long, wild grass swaying in the night breeze beside us.

Remus smiled. "When you're really deep in thought, or when you have a lot on your mind, you do this… faraway stare. It's more of a half-frown, half-stare. And you're so quiet. It's very distinct."

I blushed at his words. To cover for my embarrassment, I shook out my long hair and tied it back into a loose ponytail with a spare hair tie I always kept on my right wrist. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry I'm so easy to read."

"You're not." Remus amended. "You're a mystery. I wish I could read your thoughts. I wonder what goes on in that beautiful brain of yours."

I could hardly believe he was talking to me like this, especially after he'd made it clear we were to be just friends. "Remus."

"What?" He asked. "I can't pay my best friend a well-deserved compliment?"
I eyed him seriously. "As long as that's all it is."

Remus nodded earnestly. "Of course."

I still didn't completely believe him, but it was easier to swallow his words as truth. We continued at a leisurely pace around the vacant fields. It seemed that even animals avoided this area. The navy blue sky was filled to bursting with stars; it seemed that there was more white starlight than night sky.

"They're beautiful." I observed as we walked underneath an ancient oak tree.

"They make me appreciate Astronomy class, at least." Remus remarked. As he talked, my eyes traveled down his face to his throat. I noticed the pulsating divot of his strong heartbeat at the apex of his collarbone, unconcealed by his shirt. Even though he was lean, I could tell he possessed a well-defined, muscular body. He had grown taller too, and now hovered around five foot ten. And he was still growing. His scars weren't as visible in the pale moonlight, and his sandy-brown hair was in need of a haircut. But the careless, shaggy locks suited him well. His hands were larger, so different from when we had first met three years ago, resting at his side. He had been boyish then, barely over the threshold of puberty. I knew they would be more like my dad's hands now. Rougher, stronger, more calloused. Protective.

I wondered how well my own hand - small, compact, but calloused from my active and outdoorsy life - would fit inside of his. They had become especially tough last year after months of holding onto the handle of my broomstick during Quidditch. My left hand twitched at my side, nearly reaching for his hand.

I realized what was happening just before I did anything rash and stupid. I shook my head hard, trying to clear away the dizzying array of emotions. Stop this, Amber. Stop it right now. He's not your boyfriend. He's just your friend. Your close, best friend. Like a brother.

Remus noticed my intimate perusal of his body and glanced down at me. I hadn't realized that we had stopped moving underneath the oak tree. We stood side to side. Remus smiled down at me again, in a way that made my stomach clench and filled me with warm flutters like I'd ingested swarming butterflies.

I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, my lips pressing together hard. I can't love him like a brother when I don't want him to think of me as a sister.

But I couldn't love him my way, either. He wouldn't allow it.

And I had too much going on right now to deal with the implications of what would happen if I crossed the line again. Pain killed the butterflies as I remembered with a flash what had happened last time I had made the first move. After I'd kissed him, he'd rejected me. The healing wounds still burned raw at the memory.

"What's wrong?" He asked quietly, his electric-lime eyes so animal-like in the darkness.

I love you. I wanted to confess. I'm falling in love with you and I'm absolutely crazy for you, Remus. I want to be your girlfriend. I'm scared I'm going to lose you again, either to another girl or to death. I want to spend my life with you. I love you.

But instead, I said in a falsely bright voice, "I'm just tired. I've got a lot on my mind."

Remus studied me intently, but I didn't look away. "Amber…"

"Hey!" James shouted from behind us. We looked over at the same time to see him, Sirius, and Peter hurrying forward. James still had his antlers, but one eye was now swelling shut.

"Got your fill of carnage for the night?" I asked blandly.

"I think so." James said, winking at me through his glasses. "Hey, I heard Honeydukes might have an unlocked back door. Let's go check it out."

I glanced at Remus, but he wasn't looking at me. "Sure. Sounds like fun."

"Perfect. Let's go!" James shouted, and pushed Sirius roughly. "Screw you, Padfoot!"

Sirius shoved him back, grinning. "Screw you, Prongs!"

They tore off at breakneck speed toward the village of Hogsmeade. Peter waddled after them desperately.

"Guys, wait!" He wailed, hurrying after them, leaving me and Remus alone again.

"Shall we?" He asked, grinning.

I sighed. "I suppose."

We followed the other Marauders, walking in tandem. We were close enough to touch, close enough to hold hands, but we did not. I refused to be the one to cross that unspoken, invisible line again.

The first month of term flashed by in a disconcerting blur of endless classes, homework, and study groups. It was hard to find time for the Marauders when Lily insisted on bringing me with her to every "girl's night" in the castle, which consisted of her and a group of several other fourth-years congregating by the lake after classes and before dinner every day. They all chattered and giggled like raucous squirrels. Most of the time, they painted nails, played with hair, and talked about boys. Boys, boys, boys. That was all they ever wanted to discuss.

They always chose a particularly comfortable location on the water's edge underneath a large beech tree. It offered shade as well as some privacy. They didn't usually provide refreshments like the boys did, but I didn't mind. Though I hardly ever spoke, it was interesting to listen and observe the group of girls. They were completely different from the Marauders. Even though our group consisted of five steady members within an inner circle, these girls were markedly contrasted. They always always traveled in packs, even Lily. It seemed impossible for them to separate themselves from the entity of "the girl pack".

Perhaps it was because they didn't want to be singled out by boys, even though that was, by far, the most common subject they talked about. They were always worried about their current crush or infatuation with celebrities who were likely to never meet them, let alone ask them out.

I found it all very silly, and more than once, tried to convey my discomfort and exasperation with my body language to Lily. She remained cheerfully ignorant. "You need to learn how to be a girl, Amber," she kept telling me, trying to place a flower wreath upon my head, which I steadfastly refused. I tried to focus my attention back to my book, which I had been half-reading as I half-listened to the constant flow of female conversation.

"I need to learn how to hide from you all." I muttered.

"What was that?" Lily asked cheerfully.

"Nothing." I mumbled, resigning myself to my fate.

One day, at the beginning of October, summer made one final hurrah. The air heated until students abandoned their black robes in exchange for lighter, more breathable shirts and pants or skirts. As soon as they could, they removed their confining shoes and socks to let their overheated feet cool down.

Lily and I were on our way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was a Thursday, so it was a double block. The hot air was heavy with humidity and prevented us from feeling any sort of relief when a thick wind blew in sluggishly from a window.

"This is awful." Lily moaned, pulling at her hair, which was almost halo-like with flyaways. "It feels like the end of July, not October first!"

I grinned, amused at her expense. Lily wasn't vain, but she always tried to look her best. When even magic failed her, she was in hopeless despair over her dark red hair. There was nothing that could be done.

"Just embrace it." I told her bracingly, unwilling to look into a mirror to see what my own hair would look like. It was probably wild enough by now to be a danger to anything that flew overhead.

Lily laughed once as we entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I wished we could have been down in the dungeons for once, as much as I loathed Potions. The permanently cold air would have been perfect on a day like today. But of course, only the Slytherins would enjoy a respite from the heat.

Professor Smith's daughter, Mara, was at the front of the classroom, a pair of half-moon spectacles very much like Dumbledore's perched on her nose. She had her dark chestnut brown hair twisted up into a bun today, and I was momentarily stunned at how much she resembled her mother.

Lily chose a seat and I sat beside her, wincing as I realized my thighs would stick to the chair like a band-aid when I tried to get up. Mara was busy shuffling and reshuffling a stack of paper on her podium; I could hear the telltale rustle of parchment.

"Quidditch tryouts start this weekend." Lily mentioned casually as she tried to copy Mara's hairdo.

"I know." I responded as I pulled out a roll of fresh parchment and a quill.

"Are you going to try out?" She asked.

I slid a glance over at her. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Lily shrugged. She succeeded in pulling her fox-red hair into a messy bun. It wasn't as clean as Mara's, but the look suited her. "I was just curious. I thought maybe with Slug Club you'd be too busy to play this year."

I gave an unladylike snort. "Lily, nothing is going to stop me from playing Quidditch. Trust me, I'd like nothing better than to flatten James and Sirius and snag the Cup."

Lily didn't wince or groan at the mention of James' name, which was a change. I knew he hadn't stopped bothering her, but Lily had apparently resorted to pretending he didn't exist. I hadn't seen much of the boys in nearly a month, thanks to Lily's interference. I was grateful to her in a way, but at the same time, craved the silliness and daring of the Marauders. I missed sneaking out of the Ravenclaw Common Room after hours and meeting with them in various parts of the castle or grounds.

Lily watched James and Sirius jostle into the classroom, laughing at each other loudly and making a scene. Peter was right behind them, their second shadow. The three boys dropped unceremoniously into the back row, their favorite section, and made an even louder ruckus.

Remus wasn't with them.

"He's sick again." Lily murmured. "I wish there was something we could do for him."

Lily was one of the very few who knew the truth behind Remus' monthly absences. She cast an irritated look at James and Sirius as they sent a paper swan flying and then burst it into a million pieces of glittering confetti.

"I heard they're working on a cure for his condition." I said. "And he's taking something to help with the pain."

Unfortunately, the medication wasn't helping. Not anymore. Remus had felt reduced pain for the first few months after taking the wolfsbane pills, but now, he said their effectiveness was fading.

I missed him, especially when I knew he was hurting.

"When was full moon?" Lily asked me in a very quiet tone.

I grimaced. "Two days ago."

Three days was usually how long it took him to recover enough to attend classes again.

The last of the students filed in, and Mara looked up from her podium. Her dark green eyes flashed and she stepped into the center of the room. Immediately, all of the male voices silenced. Mara possessed a strange, unique ability among all the Hogwarts staff to garner the undivided attention of anyone who possessed a Y chromosome. I glanced behind him and sniggered at the sick calf look that had come upon Peter's face, and the spellbound expressions upon James and Sirius'.

Lily nudged me, and I turned away, devoting my eyes to Mara.

"Welcome." She said in her bright, clear voice. She drew out her black wand and smiled charmingly. "Hot out, isn't it?"
The class gave an unanimous groan of agreement. Mara's grin widened, revealing perfect white teeth.

"I take that as a yes. In that case, everyone take off your shoes, extra clothing, and get comfortable. Today's lecture will be more of a storytelling. And by storytelling, I mean campfire horror stories. Everyone take a pillow and get comfortable near the front of the room."

At her words, the long black shutters slammed over the windows that allowed harsh sunlight to stream through. The room was plunged into total darkness. But then the candles overhead in the chandelier glowed, and gave off dim but revealing iridescence.

"I guess we've got the day off from note-taking." Lily remarked, just as Mara said loudly over the din of moving students, "and you may want to take notes, if you want to pass the next exam!"

But no one complained. Mara was much cooler than any other teacher on staff, and most thought of her as a charming tutor rather than a fully-fledged education. Her gaze caught mine and she winked. I blushed, remembering the humiliation of having to be rescued by her when I had slept-walked into the middle of the Forbidden Forest.

"Come on." Lily said encouragingly, grabbing a large pouf from a stack Mara had conjured near the front of the room and choosing a spot. I obeyed and followed her. James and Sirius and Peter stayed in the back, but I could still see James watching the back of Lily's head with an odd expression on his face. I blinked, recognizing that look. It was the same expression I'd seen on Remus the other night underneath the oak tree. And before, right after I'd kissed him.

It was longing. Hopeless, yearning desire for someone out of your reach. Probably forever.

Biting my lip against the rising tide of hurt, I tried not to think of Remus and our current status as just friends and instead focused on Mara. The class had formed a half-circle around her. She was perched in a cushy-looking burgundy chaise, her almost-black eyes reflecting the dim glow of the candles like the night sky. Every male in the class was utterly entranced.

"Today," Mara began, her eyes obsidian in the dim lighting of the room, "I'm going to be telling you about the Dark Arts, and how it came to be in not only the Wizarding world, but all across humanity."