Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for the long delay in updates. I've been very busy with school, work, and getting over a bad cold that time had slipped away from me. I hope to update again as soon as I can, possibly within a few days, but my schedule is extremely full these days and it might be longer in updates than we'd all like. You guys rock! Thanks a million for your patience and loyalty :)

I ran a hand lightly over the surface of the old book. It was soft and worn, the maroon cover faded in places. When I flipped open the pages, they were the same yellowed blank sheafs of paper. No stains. Nothing torn out. Nothing missing.

"Isn't that the book Minnie gave you last year?" Naomi asked. "How come that weird girl had it?"

I looked up, scanning the crowded hallway for any sign of Zoey. But she was gone.

Frowning, I bit my lip and touched Naomi's dark head with one hand. "I'm not sure. Come on. Let's get back to my room. I'll bet they'll have lunch for us."

"Maybe we could eat in the cafeteria?" Naomi suggested hopefully as we made our way slowly into the room. The flowers were still inside. I guessed that someone (probably Lily) had enchanted them so that they would never die. Their soothing fragrance filled my nostrils, and I exhaled heavily, feeling some of the stress ebbing away.

Stella was waiting. She had been examining one bouquet in particular, a blue-and-white China vase filled with lilacs and tiger lilies.

"You're looking healthier every time I see you." Stella said brightly as I entered, Naomi tailing close behind.

"Are my parents here?" I asked, glancing around the empty room.

"No. They're filling out paperwork with Doctor Hastings. You're going home."

A thrill of excitement coursed through my veins. "When? Tomorrow?"

"Today, actually." Stella said, smiling. "As soon as they fill out the forms, you'll be released from St. Mungo's."

Naomi began jumping up and down in ecstasy. "Amber's coming home! She's coming home!"

"Easy, Ny." I warned, stepping away from her, not wanting to be jostled. "Come on, what's the catch?"

"You'll have to come back every day for the next month for physical therapy. Most likely you'll have to come back for several months, or a year, before they'll deem you healthy enough not to come back."

"But I'll be home." I said in wonder. The thought of being inside of my own room made my heart lift as it hadn't since waking up.

"Yes." Stella said, smiling in understanding. "Oh, and here's your family now."

Mum, Dad, and Doctor Hastings entered the room. Naomi bounced over to our parents. "She's coming home! Amber gets to come home!"

"Yes, darling, we know." Mum said, patting her cheek. "The forms are all filled out."

"Just a moment," Doctor Hastings said, putting up a hand. "Amber, I'd like to fill you in on what to expect."

"Stella already told me." I nodded at the blonde-haired girl. "She said I'd be coming back every day for therapy."

"That's not the only thing." He said, grimacing. "Might I have a word with Amber? Privately?"

Stella and my family departed. Once the door was closed, Doctor Hastings dropped his forced smile altogether. The flicker of joy I'd felt at returning home vanished at the grim expression on his face.

"What's the matter?" I asked, coldness seeping into me, even though the room itself was quite warm. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Doctor Hastings sighed heavily. "As I've told you, Amber, your case is unique. I've never treated a patient with partial lycanthropy. I've never even heard of something like this before. I must warn you that your quality of life is going to be different than before."

"I know. But Remus and Professor Smith live almost normal lives, and both of them have... problems."

"It's more than that, I'm afraid. It's not fair, but you will be treated differently now that you are part-werewolf. You'll need to be prepared for the discrimination. You must also realize that you are at the very beginning of a long road to recovery. And some things might never be the same again."

"You've told me this." I said stiffly.

"I know, but I'm not sure you listened. Each month, during the full moon, you'll need to be quarantined in a safe contained space. You'll need to start taking birth control, effective immediately."

My face bloomed with hot color. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I'm not planning on being intimate with anyone until I am married." If I ever got married. Sean didn't seem to care about my scars, but I couldn't bear the thought of ever letting someone see my disfigured body. Not even my future husband, if I ever married.

"I understand that you say that, but I'm not so sure your new 'full moon' self will agree. Based upon our observations, you come into a sort of trance during full moons. You might even call it a possession. You're not a full-blown werewolf, but you do become some sort of different being. Half-wolf, if you'd like to give it a name. But you are not yourself during the full moon. Your actions will be carried out by an animalistic passion and rage. You may find yourself committing acts that your normal self might never dream of doing. This includes violence, criminal activities, and even sexual intimacy."

The heat spread from my face to every part of my body. I could only stare at him.

"What does it matter, if I'm locked up?" I managed in a very small voice.

"What if you escape? Or what if the effects of the full moon affect you without warning during the daytime? It's better to be safe than sorry, Amber. Like I said, this is a very unique case, and we want to take every precaution possible. You'll be given a potion to be drunk daily with breakfast. Your school nurse will keep your prescription on hand, which you will consume each morning before classes in her office. Do you understand?"

Numb, I managed a tiny nod. I was mortified beyond words.

"In addition, you will face challenges that are more than just physical. You'll need to keep your emotions in check. Professor Dumbledore has already alerted Professor Carriage, the school counselor at Hogwarts, of the attack. He is bound by confidentiality, and he will be meeting with you once a week for an hour-long therapy session."

"But I don't need a shrink. I didn't need one when Virginia died, and I don't need one now."

"With all due respect, Amber, you are a fourteen-year-old soon-to-be-fifth-year student and werewolf attack victim who has experienced more in fourteen years than many will ever experience in a full lifetime. You must have someone you are able to confide in other than your friends. You need guidance from someone qualified and with experience to help you cope."

"Willow Smith. My friends." I shot back. "I don't want to talk to a stranger."

"He's a trained professional in the field of psychiatry and therapy. He's licensed and much better prepared to help you heal emotionally than your friends, or your teacher."

"I don't know if I agree with you on that, sir." I responded tartly.

"It doesn't matter if you agree or not. Since you are not of age yet, your parents still have full legal right and power over you, and they signed the papers in agreement for the conditions of your release from this hospital." His face softened slightly. "I appreciate the magnitude of what you have gone through. I know you're a Ravenclaw, and a vulnerable fourteen years old to boot. Believe it or not, I was once the same young age you are now. I know it feels like you know everything and that you're smarter than everyone else, but I've been practicing medicine for over twenty-five years, and I've seen traumatic cases like yours and what happens when patients do and don't take care of themselves. I don't want you sitting on a window ledge on top of a hospital like your friend Remus Lupin."

I winced at the thought. "I suppose you've got a point. I love him," I added, feeling a rush of embarrassment at my confession. "You know, as a friend."

A faint smile tugged at Doctor Hastings' lips. "I've prescribed a few medications for you to take. You can have them refilled here at no extra charge whenever you run out. I've prescribed pills that will relax your muscles and help you move better as you do your daily stretches." He handed me a piece of paper with different poses and numbers on them. "You'll need to do these at home, three times a day. You can try this cream to at least attempt to lighten your scars, but I'm afraid they are permanent. These pills," he said, pointing to a small diagram, "will help you sleep dreamlessly. I know you suffer from nightmares due to the attack, and this should give you restful sleep. These pills will help you stave off extra pain. And these are to be used for emergencies only." He tapped the picture of a red pill.

"What's it do?" I asked curiously.

"It contains the essence of phoenix flower nectar. It is quite rare. Like phoenix tears, it will heal grave injuries. But it isn't as effective as the latter, and should be used only if you absolutely need it. There's enough in there for a single dosage. It might save your life."

"Sir, I'm not sure why I'd ever need that." I said slowly.

"I can think of a few examples in your life that would contradict that." he said, smiling. I grinned back sheepishly.

"Now, go on and get packed. Healer Francis will see you tomorrow. I wish you all the best, Miss Harkstone. I think we can expect great things from you."

I blushed. "And why do you say that?"

Doctor Hastings hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. "Because you're a fighter. I've never seen anyone with such a strong, persevering spirit. I don't think I've ever had a case where the patient comes back from the grave. Your heart stopped twice while we tried to save you, you know. You'll do good things, I think."

"I plan on it." I said. I frowned, a troubling thought suddenly rearing its head. "Doctor Hastings, did the blood work tell you which werewolf attacked me? Which one infected me?"

A muscle jerked in his cheek. "Are you sure you want to know?"

I stared at him, my heart thumping hard against my ribs. Did I? Did I really want to know the truth? If Remus had been the one to infect me, to maim me…

But did it really matter? It was an accident. I told myself, fighting the rise of anger and hurt. If it was Remus, he didn't mean to.

Doctor Hastings gave me a long, measured look. Then he sighed and looked at the floor. "It was Fenrir Greyback."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. A sense of relief so powerful rushed through me that I sank back against the pillows. "Thank God. Thank you. Thank you for telling me the truth."

"I'll see you in a week, Amber, for your check-up. Go out and celebrate. Get a milkshake or something. Don't ever give up the fight to recovery." He gave me a quick smile of reassurance that didn't quite reach his eyes as he opened the door and my family came in.

"Well," Dad said, rubbing the back of his neck. "What do you think?"

"I think," I said carefully, sniffing at the flowers Remus had given me, "I'd like to go home."

The old blue Ford truck rolled down the lonely country road a few hours later. Even though traveling by Portkey or Floo Powder would have been much faster, I wanted to breathe in fresh air and see the world after being cooped up inside of an inner-city building for so long. Mum and Naomi had gone home by Floo; they wanted to make sure the house was ready for the whole family when we came back.

It was just me and Dad now as the Ford truck meandered through the wilds of the Scottish highlands. The city had fallen away into rolling hills and fields of the countryside. We'd been passing cows and crops for hours by the time the mountains rose up quite suddenly, majestic and towering overhead like clouds. The air was colder and fresher here.

The windows had been rolled down the whole time. I wore my old sunglasses as the Beatles drifted through the crackling static of the radio. Dad and I hadn't spoken much. It was pleasant enough just to be riding back in his familiar old truck, knowing that each mile brought us closer to home and further away from St. Mungo's. Leaving behind the hospital had felt cathartic and as if I truly was on the mend. Being confined within the place was stifling and discouraging. I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, to be free to wander outside in the barn and fly on my broom in the huge backyard. Going back to St. Mungo's once a day for an hour or so was worth going home.

"Do you want to stop and grab something to eat before we arrive home?" Dad asked, turning down the volume slightly. "What are you in the mood for? Italian? French? Indian?"

"Honestly, a hamburger and fries sounds great." I told him, craving the juicy taste of meat.

Dad lifted a brow in surprise. "Not a veggie burger?"

"Nope. Cow. Hey, isn't there a McDonald's up here?"

"Yeah, I'll stop." Dad pulled into the parking lot of the fast food joint, frowning up at the golden M-shaped sign. "Are you sure you want to go inside?" He looked over at the drive-thru, which had a line of cars wrapping around the building.

"Positive." I staggered toward the building before Dad intercepted me. "We have your cane, if you want to use it."
My face flamed. The cane lay on the leather seat beside me, along with my book. Two suitcases of clothes and possessions I'd had in the hospital were in the truck bed, along with the garden of flowers I'd been given while in my hospital room. "I don't want to use a cane. I'm fourteen years old, not one-hundred and fourteen. I'm not Minnie."

"You can hardly walk. You were just released from the hospital." Dad reminded me gently. St. Mungo's had insisted on discharging me in a wheelchair. They hadn't budged when I'd told them Sean could carry me. So I'd had to endure the humiliation of being carted out of the hospital like a trash bin full of waste.

"I don't need it." I told him stubbornly. Regardless, he stood by me, a support I could grab onto. My bad leg still didn't want to support my full weight. Slowly, we made our way into the McDonald's.

Stella and Mum had helped me change into Muggle clothes before departing the hospital. Even though I was wearing jeans and a colorful tank top, it didn't distract from the numerous scars and bandages still covering my body. My cheeks prickled with shame and embarrassment as the patrons of the fast food restaurant stared at me, hobbling alongside my much-taller father, looking like I'd just survived a terrible mauling. Well, I suppose I did. I thought drolly. I lifted my chin a notch and pretended not to care about the shameless stares from the onlookers.

"What do you want?" Dad asked gently as we gazed up at the menu. I hadn't been to McDonald's in years. The last time I had been seven years old and ordered a yogurt parfait. Now that meat was an option, I felt utterly lost.

"Hamburger and fries, right?" Dad prompted.

"Cheeseburger. No pickles." I corrected after a moment. "Oh, and an iced tea. No sugar. Please."

"Got it." Dad squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and led me to the counter. The cashier blinked in astonishment at my mangled appearance, but didn't stare like the customers did. She was young, Stella's age, with pretty red hair and sparkling brown eyes. She reminded me of Lily. "How can I help you?" she asked politely.

Dad repeated my order to her. "I'd like a Big Mac and a Coke. To go, please."

"I don't want you to have to eat and drive." I told him.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable." Dad said quietly. I could feel the stares on me, even now.

"I guess you're right." I conceded, forcing my trembling voice to sound clear.

The staff behind the counter was staring at me, too. A little girl holding her mother's hand came to join us as we waited for our order. I could feel her gaping up at me.

"Mommy?" the little girl asked loudly. "What happened to that girl?"

I turned to stare unblinkingly at the mother, whose face had gone dark red in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry." she said in a faint voice. "Hush, Faith."

"Were you attacked by an animal or were you born like that?" the little girl, Faith, asked, her huge blue eyes wide of innocent curiosity.

"Faith!" Her mother chided, guiding her away. "I don't know what's gotten into you. I'm so sorry."

I gave a tight smile. "It's fine. I was attacked by a wolf." I turned around and faced the entire restaurant. "Anyone else want to ask me how I got these marks, or are you going to pay a cover charge? I normally charge an admission fee for spectators."

I had said it so loudly that the entire place went silent. I stood trembling violently, traitorous tears in my eyes. Doctor Hastings had warned me that my scars would make my life different. Remus had warned me too. Why hadn't I listened? How could I have ever taken my health for granted? Or my appearance?

"Amber." Dad said quietly, taking my elbow. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go."

"No!" I shouted, tears rolling down my cheeks now. I didn't bother to wipe them. "Anyone else want to stare? Go right on ahead. I'm about to leave and you might never get this chance again to gawk at a mauling victim. Go on! Get your fill!"
Dad swore softly and led me outside. Once we were by the truck I burst into tears. Dad enfolded me in his strong arms, holding my broken pieces together.

"I'm so sorry, Amber," Dad whispered, his own voice rough with emotion. "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine." I lied, fighting to regain control over my emotions. I was embarrassed that I had exploded like that in front of a restaurant full of Muggles, but it was the first time I had been outside of the hospital where the occupants were either visitors, staff, or injured and sick patients. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"You are not fine." Dad said huskily. "But I'll be right here through all of this. Do you understand me? Look at me, sweetheart."

I did, heartbroken. "I'm ugly." I was scarred, mauled, permanently marked by the werewolf. I was a half-wolf. I was a monster. I was ugly.

"You are not ugly. You're a survivor. These marks are like stripes on a tiger. You are beautiful."

I remembered Sean saying similar words. I wept into his shirt, ashamed and terrified of my new uncertain future filled with mistrustful stares from strangers and friends alike.

"Um, excuse me?"

We both turned and looked at the red-haired cashier, who was sheepishly holding out two brown paper bags to us. I noticed that her name tag said, Rose. Dad took them. The girl named Rose swallowed hard, looking flustered. "That was really out of line, all of those people in there. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I put in an extra order of fries for you."

"Thank you." Dad said, voice heavy.

"For the record," the teenage girl said, giving me a small smile, "I think your scars look badass."

At this, I burst into relieved laughter, still watery from tears. Dad kept pace with my mood swing, never criticizing. He gave the girl named Rose a grateful nod, and she traipsed back inside.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dad asked as I climbed into the cracked leather seat of the truck.

"I will be, I guess." I said, sighing heavily as I bit into the delicious cheeseburger. The meat tasted so good, better than any vegetable I'd ever eaten.

Everything's going to change now, I thought as Dad backed out of the parking lot and continued down the twisting country roads to home. Nothing's ever going to be the same.

Well, at least I was alive. Others weren't so lucky. Angelina wasn't. And I was grateful that even if I was scarred and disfigured, I still had air in my lungs. My heart still beat within my rib cage. And even though the road to recovery would be long and arduous, there was still a road.

How quickly my road had almost come to an abrupt dead end. And how "lucky" was I to be alive.

The late July heat sent droves of Bellinghall residents and visitors to the lake and the outflowing river. I had only been home for a week, but already, I was beginning to appreciate the miracle of climate control magic that existed inside of St. Mungo's. It had always been a comfortable room temperature there, but here, in the simple country bungalow with hardly any magic, it was sweltering.

Mum tried her best to keep the air cool inside of the house, but it was no use. The summer heat prevailed, and we threw open every window in the house in a futile attempt at tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The grass lay parched and dying outside, browned by the sun, while the animals stayed in the barn or underneath the shade of trees. Even the willow tree where Virginia was buried looked yellow and dry.

"I want to go swimming!" Naomi whined constantly. "Mum, why can't I go?"

"Because you're not old enough to go by yourself." Mum would snap, and the two would bicker back and forth until I left the kitchen and sought refuge in my bedroom. Mum was typically occupied at the bakery, and Naomi refused to go to summer camp after I had almost died. She wouldn't leave my side. Every day, I had to go to St. Mungo's for physical therapy, but it was only for an hour or two. Naomi would come with me most of the time. Then, I was left with the prospect of facing hot summer days without the option of jumping into a refreshing lake or river. I kept up daily correspondance with not just Remus and Lily, but with Sirius, James, and Peter as well. Soren was hardly ever home since he was constantly relaying messages to and from my house to my friends. I wished to see them, but I was too ashamed after what had happened with Remus and my new appearance. I knew that they didn't care how I looked now, but I did.

Sean had visited already - twice - and treated me and Naomi to ice cream. I still wasn't comfortable with people staring at me and hated going out into public. I wondered how Remus dealt with it all: the shameless stares, the whispers, the questions. People treated me differently just because of my appearance, and I hated it. I had already sent Professor Smith an owl about what I could do about the scars, but she was right: there was no cure for cursed wounds. The scars were permanent. Not even make-up could hide them.

Today was particularly broiling, with the sun beating down on the parched grass outside. Naomi lay sprawled out on the sofa while I read a book in the sunporch, stretching out my bad leg every few minutes. Doctor Hastings and Healer Francis had instructed me to gently stretch and ice the bad leg often. Hopefully, the movement would encourage the injury to heal faster, if at all. I had been given a "support" (a cane, but put in a more polite term) so I wouldn't have to put full weight on my leg. But I refused to use it unless I absolutely needed it, which was usually when I had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. The first time I'd tried to navigate the dark hallway without it, I'd fallen and landed on my face, causing a bloody nose and Mum to fuss like a mother hen for a solid hour until I finally shook her off and returned to my room for the rest of the night.

"Amber," Naomi said tentatively as she poked her head around the doorframe to the sunporch. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?" I asked flatly, drinking iced tea as the sun scorched the earth. I had a feeling about what she wanted, and I was in no mood to comply.

"Amber, I know you don't feel well, but I'm so hot. And I really want to go swimming. Mum said I can't unless someone goes with me."

There was a pause of hopeful silence. I looked over the top of the book at Naomi, whose green eyes gazed at me expectantly from the couch. "Can we please go to the river?"

"No." I said immediately, pulling up the book so I wouldn't see the crushed look in her face.

"Oh, come on, Amber! Please!" Naomi whined. "It's so hot! I feel like I'm dying!"

Doctor Hastings had prescribed me a strange medication, which made my body feel pleasantly cool and relaxed. It was supposed to help me sleep and dull the radiating pain in my bad leg, but it also meant that I was oblivious to the discomfort of others in the summer heat. I raised a brow at her.

"I don't want to go." I told her in a tone of finality. "If you're hot, take off a few layers."

"If I do that, I'll be naked!" Naomi moaned. "Please, please, PLEASE! I'm melting. I need water!"

Her constant bellyaching was giving me a headache. "Naomi…"

"I don't wanna be stuck inside all summer! I wanna go out!"

"Then why didn't you go to summer camp?" I snapped.

"Because I wanted to be with you!" Naomi wailed. "Please, Amber! You don't have to go into the water. Just sit on the beach and read. Please."

She had come over to the side of the sofa, resting on her knees. Her huge eyes watered slightly. I touched her damp forehead. She was hot. And she looked miserable.

I felt a twist of guilt. What eight-year-old wouldn't want to be at the river on a hot summer day?

"Fine." I grumbled. "We'll go for an hour. One hour, Naomi. That's all." I could barely stomach being gawked at for five minutes, let alone sixty.

She squealed and jumped up in victory. "Thank you so much! You're the best sister ever!" She kissed my cheek and raced up the stairs. I could hear her pounding feet overhead as I eased my way off of the sofa, wincing at the sharp pain shooting up from my bad leg into my hip. The werewolf had sunk its fangs in deep and punctured several muscles and my femoral artery, and when it had dragged me, it had yanked the joint out of the socket. It was extremely slow to heal. Sighing wearily in resignation, I reached for the cane and shuffled slowly upstairs.

"Will Lily be there?" Naomi asked in excitement as I hobbled into my bedroom.

"No." I replied. "I mean, she lives in Cokesworth. We're too young to Apparate, so there's no way she could get here in time."

Naomi pouted. "But she's fun! I like her."

"I do too. She's like another sister. Now go away so I can get dressed."

"Do you want any help?" Naomi asked, eyeing the cane. "I could get you denture cream, or a walker."

She narrowly dodged the tennis ball I threw at her. Laughing, she traipsed into the bathroom to put on sunscreen.

I smiled wryly at her wit as I closed my bedroom door. As soon as I was alone, I dropped the fake smile. Filled with trepidation, I undressed and dared to face myself in the full-length mirror.

It was hard to believe how I had survived such a vicious attack. The scars didn't stop at my neck, even though they ran down my face in a cruel slash. My torso, arms, legs, and hands were covered in marks of the werewolf. They were still reddish and purple, angry and slow to heal. Doctor Hastings had warned me that it would take up to a full year for the dark marks to fade to a silvery or pink color, and even then, they would never fully vanish.

Mum had always impressed upon me the importance of waiting for intimacy until marriage, and now I knew that I would likely never go past kissing with any boy, whether that was Remus or Sean or the future husband I had yet to meet. What man could ever find my disfigured body attractive?

I touched the tears on my hands and turned to look at my back. There was the curve of spine, and a horrible patch that covered almost half of the surface where I had been ripped into. I didn't want to think what I must have looked like when James and Professor Kettleburn found me. I knew I had been bleeding profusely, and my body had probably looked like a hunk of shredded meat and skin.

Feeling sick with shame and embarrassment, I picked up the two-piece swimsuit Lily had given to me and wanted to burn it. I didn't want to be stared at. The less scarred skin I revealed, the better. I didn't want to showcase the horror of what I'd survived that night. I wanted to crawl under my bed covers and never re-emerge.

But Naomi was right. The heat was stifling, and I longed to jump into a refreshingly cold river or lake. I was torn between wanting to hide my body and relief from the heat.

There was a loud knock at my bedroom door. "Amber!" Naomi whined. "Come on! I'm dying!"

I rolled my eyes. Sure you are, I thought darkly. She had no idea what it meant to be dying.

I felt a surge of guilt in the wake of my harsh thoughts. Naomi was blissfully ignorant of much of the suffering that went on in others. She hadn't battled and died of sickness like Virginia, nor had she barely survived a savage mauling. Naomi was scared of her own shadow, flighty, and sweetly innocent. Wasn't that what I wanted? To protect her from the evils and cruelties of this world? To make sure that she never went through anything like what her two elder sisters had?

Sighing, I fit on the two-piece, which was dark blue like sapphires, and pulled a slipcover over my body. I winced, the garish scars criss-crossing my arms, legs, and face still visible. I grabbed the old book Minnie had given me and that Zoey had found off of my bedside table. Maybe I could try and read it at the beach while Naomi swam.

Resigning myself, I opened the bedroom door and managed a half-smile, half-grimace. "Alright. Let's get this over this."

Naomi frowned. "Why are you wearing that dress?"

"It's not a dress. It's a slipcover. Mum gave it to me to borrow if I needed it."

"You look silly. It's hot out. Just take it off."

"No, Naomi." I tried to keep my voice as gentle and calm as possible, but heat was pouring into my face and my heart was beginning to pound. Never a good sign. "Please, just back off. Let's get down to the river."

"You look like that time I went trick-or-treating as a ghost. Remember when Daddy put that old white sheet over me?"

"Naomi, enough." I said forcefully. Naomi fixed me with a droll look and dropped it.

"Can we get something to eat at the bakery?" Naomi asked as we left behind the house and made for the Ford truck. Technically, I wasn't old enough to drive by Muggle standards. But since Bellinghall was the only other wizard-only community in all of Britain aside from Hogsmeade, I knew I was safe. Apparating required a license and being at least seventeen years old, but since there was Portkeys, Floo Powder, broomsticks, and several other ways of magical transportation, Muggle-transportation was often ignored. It didn't matter that I was on the cusp of being fifteen. As long as I had keys, I could legally drive.

"Maybe after." I said, arranging my hair into a simple braid.

"Did you ask Daddy?" Naomi prompted as we climbed into the cracked leather seat.

"No." I said simply, turning the ignition, which coughed to life. "But do you really want to walk a mile in this heat and then all the way back?"

Naomi pouted and folded her arms crossly. She wanted to argue and be right, but if she did, she'd forfeit an easy and quick ride to the river and back. She cranked the radio, which was playing the Beatles again. They were an extremely popular band in the Muggle world, and for some reason, Dad loved them. I, however, rolled my eyes and changed the station, sick of hearing the same old love songs over and over again.

"Hey, I liked that song!" Naomi protested. "Change it back."

I ignored her and scanned through a few stations as we rolled down the dusty and dry dirt roads. The tailpipe backfired a few times, but the truck never quit. Dad had installed some sort of enchantment in the engine, and it never stopped running since. Naomi started to whine again when I caught a few words in the static broadcast that made me snap, "Quiet!"

Naomi opened her mouth to protest, but I shook my head and turned up the radio louder. Naomi's look of consternation changed into an expression of concerned curiosity.

"Breaking alert… Wizarding Wireless Network based in Hogsmeade interrupts your music to bring you a breaking story alert… the emergency signal will begin playing across every station within an hour in all wizarding homes…"

"What's going on?" Naomi tried to ask, but I shushed her again and turned up the knob to near-maximum volume.

"Fifteen different Muggle families across Great Britain have been found murdered in their homes in the past twenty-four hours… each house bore a 'Dark Mark' above the houses of where the murders took place… attacks are being blamed on Death Eaters, supporters of You-Know-Who. Every wizard and witch is required to tune into a special broadcast by Minister of Magic, Harold Minchum, tonight at six p.m. Wizards and witches are urged to stay in their homes or proceed with extreme caution. Suspects are still at large. Most attacks based in London, but one family was located in Ottery St. Catchpole… all wizards and witches are advised to remain home until…"

I shut off the radio. But not before the damage was done. Naomi's small face was pale and drawn.

"What did he say?" She asked in a hushed voice. "Did he say… were there really fifteen families murdered? Did they have kids? Were there no survivors?"

"Hush, Naomi." I told her firmly, forcing a small smile of reassurance on my face. Inside, I felt sick. So, the Ministry was still having trouble containing the problem. Lord Voldemort's supporters weren't being held in check by dementors nor by Aurors. If they were rampant enough to kill fifteen families, then what would stop them from coming after mine?

I fought the intense but brief flash of panic, my grip on the steering wheel so tight that I could see the whites of my knuckles. Ottery St. Catchpole wasn't that far from here. What would stop them from coming to Bellinghall?

Naomi fell silent. When I glanced over at her, she was staring out of the windshield blankly. I reached over and took her hand, squeezing it.

We took the access road to the river. There was a small dirt parking lot, filled with various Muggle vehicles. Many people in Bellinghall owned small trucks or cars simply because of the novelty of it. Our town was still so steeped in agriculture and organic times that it was hard to pass up our cars for magical transportation.

I wedged the Ford into a space between two other rickety cars and inched my way out. I pulled on a pair of sunglasses in the glare of the sun. Naomi was still silent. I was worried that she had heard too much. She was getting old enough to understand things I wished she wouldn't. I crouched in front of her, tipping her chin up to look at me squarely in the face.

"Hey. Listen to me." I said firmly, ignoring the sheen of tears in her eyes that made my own heart twist. "Listen. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Mum, or Dad. Understand?"
Her lower lip protruded, quivering. "Virginia's gone. You were almost gone too, weren't you?"

I didn't deny the truth. "I know. But I'm a fighter. I'm not going anywhere, Ny. I promise."

"Promise?" She asked in a quavering voice.

I hugged her. She held on so tightly that my sore muscles protested, but I kept silent. "I promise."

She released me after a long moment. Naomi was still unusually reserved as we meandered through the short path of undergrowth that led to the bubbling river. It was the exact same place I had been with Lily and Remus last summer, when I'd kissed him. My skin warmed at the memory as I stared at the rocky outcrop, where water bubbled over. That was the spot where it had happened.

Stop it. I told myself, giving myself a mental shake. Stop living in the past. Let him go.

But I felt guilt all the same. The memory lingered, clinging like cigarette smoke. Sean and I had shared countless kisses. Remus and I had had just that one, but it was far more powerful and bonding. Conflicted, I sat on a dry rock in the shallows of the river and sighed in relief. The cold water submerged me up to my knees, but Naomi plowed straight into the depths. She was the cackling, carefree little girl again, and I wondered how I was going to keep her that way. Even out here, in the remote wilds of the Scottish Highlands, the poison of Lord Voldemort's evil tainted the warm summer air. I watched other children and teenagers with their parents splashing around and wondered how much longer this haven would stay safe.

I realized that with the distraction of the cold water and the countless river rocks, no one was paying any attention to me or my scars. Giving Naomi one last furtive look, I left the river and made my way back to Dad's truck. I had forgotten my old book again. It lay on the truck seat. I was glad it hadn't been stolen again, but I still wondered who had committed the thievery to begin with.

I walked back to the river with the book tucked under one arm. I had the odd sense of being watched, but when I looked around, no one was looking at me. Frowning, I reached for my wand, which I had tucked into the bottom hip of the two-piece. The wand, which Dumbledore had resurrected, retained the same phoenix feather core, but the wood shell was different. The hard holly wood was unbreakable in my taut fingers.

There was a flash of brown, and a fat rabbit scurried past me, vanishing into the tall grass and undergrowth with a flash of white tail fur. But suddenly, I wasn't standing in the hot sun by the Bellinghall River. I was back underneath the black trees of the Forbidden Forest, running for my life, when a Stunning Spell sent me crashing to the ground. And then, a flash of black fur, and the werewolf was upon me, ripping me to shreds.

A blue jay scolded me loudly from a nearby branch, and just like that, I was back in the warm summer light by the river. My entire body trembled, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I staggered over to the rocks and climbed up onto a huge, smooth boulder, which was part of the small cascading waterfall, and tried to calm down. I could still see Naomi swimming, diving down like a duck in the center of the river, searching for pretty rocks. She was safe.

I'm safe, too. I reminded myself. I'm safe. Safe.

But I couldn't stop shaking. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, a technique Healer Francis had taught me when the pain was too great to bear. I inhaled the odor of wildflowers, pine resin, and river water, instead of the dark soil and rancid breath I'd choked on in the woods.

But the worst part of the shaking came from the realization of whose voice I had heard casting the Stunning Spell. All along, I'd assumed it was Folsom. But as I sat in the baking sunlight, feeling ice cold, I realized the owner of the voice sounded a lot less like Folsom, and a lot more like a friend.

Well, someone I had thought was a friend.

Why did the person who cried, "Stupefy!" sound just like Peter Pettigrew?