Thursday, 20 January 1994

DADA Classroom

Mary was released from Madam Pomfrey's care on Wednesday morning, temperature stabilized and magic re-charged. She returned to a rather tense Slytherin House. About half of her House mates seemed to be wary of cheesing her off, and most were resentful of the threat against their Hogsmeade visit. A smaller group was upset because she had been punished much less severely than Bletchley.

She had received a note telling her to write an essay for Snape while she was sitting around the hospital wing on Tuesday, analyzing both the conflict and the duel for the mistakes she had made, and considering how things might have turned out otherwise if she had made different choices. However many hours this took (four, not including the long nap she took mid-essay) would be the number of hours he assigned as detention for the sake of formality. It was, Mary knew, a cop-out assignment on Snape's part, seeing as she had already discussed those very points with him in the hospital wing. Bletchley, on the other hand, had been assigned to assist Filch every evening until the Easter holiday. Word was, she was lucky she hadn't been expelled. She had already had her seventeenth birthday, and the Headmaster was disinclined to give second chances to adult Slytherins who had used blatantly Dark and illegal spells on children four years their junior.

The three nervous and/or vaguely antagonistic groups were not mutually exclusive, which resulted in a rather small segment of Mary's House mates treating her normally – mostly the ones who had backed her against Bletchley and most of the Quidditch team. Malfoy and Higgs had supported Bletchley, and were among the shifty, wary majority, but since Mary was excused from practice anyway, she wasn't terribly concerned about how to deal with the awkwardness between them on the pitch. Of course, now that they were down to one match, and it was still over two months away, the practice schedule had been relaxed a bit, anyway – they now had Mondays and every other Thursday off.

This particular Thursday was an off day, and as such, Mary, Lilian, and Hermione had planned to meet Remus to begin Patronus lessons. Mary was determined not to miss it on account of her impromptu stay in the hospital wing, so she had more immediate (and, to her mind, more important) things to worry about than her House mates' recurring, collective attitude problem. She had to come up with a way to explain her nearly getting killed in a fight to Emma and Catherine without sounding as stupid as she knew she had been. She had missed History, so she had to write a make-up essay for Professor D'Onofrio on whether the Statute of Secrecy should be maintained in the twenty-first century, along with catching up on the rest of Monday and Tuesday's homework. And most importantly, she had to convince Remus that she was well enough to attempt to learn the very difficult and magically exhausting charm.

She had been psyching herself up to face the boggart-dementor since they had discussed its use on the train. If they put it off too long, she wasn't sure she would be able to stand there and voluntarily face her worst fear, just to practice trying to drive it away.

She had, perhaps, overextended herself on her first day out of the Hospital wing, trying to impress him with her casting of Aspernor, a Light Repulsion Charm which was supposed to be highly effective against minor Dark Creatures. She had, however, managed to successfully knock back the Tatzelwurm they were practicing on, which was more than half the class had done. Remus had reluctantly agreed that he would see the three of them the following evening after dinner, so Mary considered this a win… even if it did result in her falling asleep in the library and drooling on her Transfiguration homework.

Time seemed to move more slowly than usual as they proceeded through Thursday's lessons. Even Potions was a bit of a drag, and that was the most interesting part of the day: they were making a very complicated hair-color-changing potion, the point of which was not actually to dye their own and their friends' hair whatever color they chose, but to illustrate the difficulties in creating a potion that targeted only a single aspect of a person – in this case, their hair – without touching any other, such as their skin. Neville had very nearly dyed them green adding three ingredients out of order. Fortunately, he seemed to have done something else wrong along the way as well, so the exploded potion affected only their clothes. Mary managed to save her own brew from the splash-back with a quick shield charm, but her uniform was a total loss. Neville had apologized profusely, of course, but on a scale of Longbottom Potions Disasters, a green uniform was fairly low priority. At least it hadn't been caustic. Still, that had been the highlight of the day. The rest of it had gone even more slowly as she waited impatiently for the hours until half eight to pass.

Finally (finally!), the appointed hour had arrived. Mary practically dragged Lilian and Hermione from the library to the Defense classroom, which Lilian was complaining about when they arrived.

"Why are you so excited about this?" she demanded.

"Do you not want to learn how to keep the dementors away?"

Hermione laughed at Mary's abject confusion. "Of course we do, but you've been positively driven about it!"

"I'm not going to feel safe getting back in the air during a match until I know we're not going to have a repeat of that first one," the seeker admitted with a sigh.

"You know Flint won't let you take a wand out on the pitch," Lilian pointed out doubtfully.

Mary raised an eyebrow at her. "We are talking about the same Flint, right? Captain Marcus 'Just don't get caught and I had nothing to do with this' Flint?"

"Ah… point."

"Do I even want to know?" Hermione asked, eyeing the two Slytherins suspiciously.

They answered in tandem, without even needing a look to confirm: "No."

Remus, at the front of the classroom with a large packing crate beside him, cleared his throat. "Take it from an old Marauder, Miss Granger – sometimes it's best to just not ask."

"Curiosity killed the cat-girl," Lilian quipped.

"Oh, shut up, you!"

"Lils! Maia! Patronus charm time!" Mary interrupted their squabble.

Remus sighed. "You mustn't be too disappointed if you can't manage it, Mary," he reminded her. "It is an NE level spell – it requires a great deal of power, and a degree of concentration that most witches and wizards can't muster in their fifth year, let alone their third."

Mary parked her hands on her hips and glared at the werewolf. "That doesn't mean I don't want to try to learn!"

"There is a very good chance that even if you do manage it, it won't be in time for your next Quidditch match," he pointed out.

"Are we going to do this or not?" Mary asked impatiently.

"All right, all right. So. The spell is the Patronus Charm. You all know what it does, and how it works?"

"Of course," Hermione smirked.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Humor me."

The Ravenclaw did, of course. "The Patronus Charm is a Light Arts spell. It was developed in Etruria in the fourth century, and was classified as Advanced or NE level by the International Confederation of Wizards in the eighteenth century. The Patronus itself is a semi-corporeal construct of light magic, anathema to semi-corporeal dark creatures, including the dementor, the lethifold, and the vampire in its shadow-state. Historians think that it was initially developed to combat shadow-walking in the Italic Vampire Wars, and later adopted to repel other dark creatures.

"The incantation is Expecto Patronum: I expect, hope for, or await a protector. The wand movement is an open reversed-infinity, combined with an up-swoop at the seventh mark, and a quick downward slash at the end. The last syllable falls on the up-swoop. From what I understand, the key movement is the up-down 'forward attack' slash, at the end – it's the same as is used to direct Oppugnated objects or Fiendfyre – so if you have to point-cast it, that's the bit you would want to keep.

"The intention is protection, and the necessary state of mind is neutral to positive. The more positive a memory you can think of while casting, the better your chances of a successful cast. That's actually the most difficult part of using the Patronus to repel dementors – they either consume or repel positive memories and thoughts, so it takes great strength of mind to think happy thoughts in spite of their presence.

"The Patronus seems to sap the strength of dementors, and they will normally retreat rather than allow it to come into contact with them. The text I consulted suggested that happiness, hope, joie de vivre, and the need to protect someone or something shape and empower the construct, but it is the light versus dark magic aspect that dementors find intolerable, much as Black Mages find phoenix song painful to hear, and dark wizards find it uncomfortable to cast light magic. As entities shaped from darkness, corruption, and death, dementors find the magic of light, renewal, and life painful to endure.

"There is a high initial threshold for casting the spell – ideally eighty-one thaums – but the input necessary to maintain the spell is much lower, especially when faced with an actual threat against which the Patronus is effective.

"Oh, honestly! It's all in the library!" she finished, glaring at all of the others, including the professor, who were staring at her with varying degrees of incredulity.

Lilian recovered first. "Fits with what Professor Snape told us." She shrugged.

Mary was caught up on the daunting idea of casting a spell that required eighty times as much power as a standard Lumos, plus additional energy input to maintain. Even the hardest transfiguration they had learned so far needed only forty to fifty thaums when cast properly. She rather wished that Hermione had left the energy requirement out. It seemed easier when she didn't actually know how difficult it was.

"None of that is anywhere in the open part of the library," Remus noted. He sounded almost suspicious. Mary wondered if Hermione had given away her reading into Dark Arts.

"It is in the Restricted Section, though," the Ravenclaw said, flushing slightly. "And I asked Professor Flitwick if he knew anything about the charm while I was looking up dementors for Professor D'Onofrio."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Well, be that as it may, from the perspective of having actually cast the spell, I can tell you that it is, indeed, much easier to cast if you are able to focus on a single, very happy memory. It is also easier to cast if you are in danger. The added danger of being near a dementor may or may not be enough to outweigh the difficulties in concentrating on a good memory. It depends on the person, so far as I can tell. But I've seen too many people freeze when faced with a boggart, let alone a dementor, so as we discussed on the train, it's best to learn with a live target, if possible."

"Will you demonstrate?" Hermione asked, practically bouncing in place. Out of the three of them, she was the only one who hadn't seen a Patronus up close.

Remus blushed. "I suppose." He took several steps back to give them a bit of space, then made an abbreviated wand-motion, a side-to-side flick, and then a sharp rise followed by a down-slash. "Expecto Patronum!"

A silver mist shot from the tip of his wand, coalescing into the ghostly shape of an enormous wolf. It appeared seated, and stood to pad over to the girls, nuzzling at them and driving away the hint of discontent that seemed to linger in every room of the school anymore, before disintegrating into silver sparks and fading away.

Lilian smirked. "Is it a bit… odd, for a werewolf to have a wolf Patronus?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione beat him to it. "Don't be rude, Lili! I'm sure the two things have nothing to do with each other."

"Yeah," Mary added drily. "With a name like Remus Lupin, why wouldn't he have a wolf Patronus?"

The professor dragged a hand over his face and muttered something like, "Why did I volunteer for this?" as Lilian snorted with half-suppressed laughter, and Hermione said sternly, "That's got nothing to do with it, either!"

"Miss Granger is correct," Remus said in his most professorial tone. ("Of course," Lilian inserted. Mary elbowed her in the ribs.) "The shape of the Patronus is said to be based on your personality, or your soul."

"Snape said it was based on the memory, and, well… what you'd die to protect?" the youngest of the trio stated questioningly.

Remus shrugged, more than accustomed by now to Slytherin students interrupting lessons with 'Professor Snape says,' and 'my cousin so-and-so told me,' or the ever-popular 'this one time, when we were on vacation.' He had developed a real knack for expanding on whatever they said to reconcile his own (normally briefer and more age appropriate) explanations with the ones they volunteered, without directly contradicting anyone.

"Exactly which part of your personality motivates the shape isn't exactly clear. They tend not to change over the course of one's life – at most they shift once or twice, and that's associated with love – unrequited love, usually. I do know you can cast them with different memories, and achieve the same shape, so it's most likely not the memory specifically, but the emotion behind it that matters."

Hermione nodded. "That makes sense."

"We just need to think of something happy, then?" Lilian asked.

"Yep. Feel free to discuss it, if you want."

"What's yours, Remus?" Mary asked. She had been periodically trying to think of a happy memory, or a memory of something she would die to protect, since she and Lilian had spoken to Professor Snape about it before the holiday, and she wasn't sure she had any that were good enough.

Remus gave them girls a small, nostalgic smile. "When your father confronted me about being a werewolf, and all of my friends accepted me regardless of the Curse."

Lilian very obviously bit her tongue on a comment.

"What?" Remus asked warily.

"Nothing," was the too-quick response.

"What were you going to say?" he asked, a smile slowly growing as the bold Slytherin tried not to laugh.

The Snake cracked, smirking broadly. "It's – You're – That memory is just so cute and sweet. You're like… the anti-werewolf. I have never met anyone less werewolf-like than you, professor."

"Erm… thank you?"

"Don't be daft, Lili – he is a werewolf. Obviously your preconceived notions of what a werewolf should be like are wrong!"

"Hermione!" Mary interrupted, before her older friend could begin a rant on werewolf rights and the importance of not being prejudiced. "What memory are you using for the Patronus?"

"Oh! I thought I'd try getting my Hogwarts letter. I, well… I thought I was mad, before, you know. I had a psychologist, and everything. It was such a relief knowing I wasn't. And magic – magic is amazing. I would fight to protect magic, if I had to."

"What about you, Miss Moon?" Remus asked, obviously cottoning on to Mary's very cunning plan to get the lesson back on track.

"I don't know. My first puppy, maybe?"

"Most people find that pets aren't a strong enough connection – maybe family?"

Lilian shook her head. "I don't have many good memories with my family," she admitted.

Remus sighed. "All right. We'll try the puppy, then, and see where that gets you. Mary?"

"Flying," she said firmly.

"Flying?"

Mary nodded. It was the best she had come up with. "It's like freedom."

"All right. Well, let's practice the wand movement and the incantation a few times, then, and once you've got it down, we'll try it with the boggart dementor." He demonstrated the full wand movement for them, and they repeated it several times, and then the incantation.

Much to Mary's surprise, she managed to wring a wisp of silvery light from her wand the first time she tried putting them together, as she focused on the sensation of the world falling away beneath her, and the feeling that she could go anywhere, and no one could stop her. She was so startled that it dissipated almost at once. Hermione and Lilian looked a bit put out that they hadn't managed it as well, and they spent the next forty minutes repeating the process, brainstorming new memories and then trying the spell. Eventually they all managed at least a bit of silver smoke, and Remus suggested that they should try it on the boggart-dementor, to see if the aura of danger would help spur their protective instincts.

"Remember," Lilian quipped. "If the boggart goes out of control, just stun Liz!"

"Do not do that," Remus said forbiddingly, obviously not pleased to be reminded of his first lesson. "One of us will simply step closer if necessary and distract the creature."

Mary stepped forward, so that she was nearest the packing crate, with Hermione and Lilian on either side of her, just a few feet further back.

"Remember, keep your mind firmly on your happy memory."

"'Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings,'" Hermione said nervously. It was obviously a quote, though Mary didn't know the source.

"Quite. Ready?"

"Just do it, Remus!" Mary snapped, more than a little nervous herself. She was finding it rather difficult to concentrate on the feeling of flying when her mother's voice at the moment of her murder was waiting on the other side of the thin wooden slats.

Without another word, the Defense Professor shot a spell at the packing case, and its lid flipped off.

A dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Mary, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward the girls, drawing a deep, rattling breath.

"Expecto Patronum!" Lilian's voice called, behind Mary and just slightly to her left. Hermione echoed her on the other side.

"Expecto Patronum!" Mary repeated along with the others, waving her wand, but she knew before she had finished the first word of the phrase that it wasn't going to work. She couldn't concentrate on… whatever she was supposed to be thinking about. Not when her mind was filled with white fog and her mother's voice echoing silently – and yet overwhelmingly loud, inside her head: "Not Mary! Not Mary! Please -!"

And then someone growled "Sod it," and the mist was gone with a crack, as was the dementor. Hermione had stepped forward, and the boggart had changed: The all-too-familiar blue eyes and charming smile of the teenage Tom Riddle were staring at her from across the room. His arm was around a version of Hermione who might have been prettier than the original, if not for the jet-black eyes and the darkness obviously creeping through her veins under death-pale skin. Necromancer-Hermione, like the necromancer version of Blaise Theo had shown them. Riddle smirked at the girls, then turned and whispered something in necromancer-Hermione's ear. The other half of the boggart began to raise its wand, training it on Mary and Lilian.

"R-riddikulus!" the real Hermione said quickly, but the stuttered spell had no effect on the boggart.

"Is that the best you can do, Maia-bee?" it tutted at her. Riddle's voice. "Perhaps one of you others ought to give it a go. The sheep in wolf's clothing? The young murderer? What about you, granddaughter?" The last word was hissed, Parsel.

Mary blanched. There was no way she was letting that thing reveal that secret! "Go to hell, you fucking lunatic! Riddikulus!"

There was another crack, and the Riddle-and-Hermione boggart was replaced by a very red-faced Ginny Weasley, all dressed up like she was attending a pureblood tea party.

"Not funny!" the boggart stomped its foot. But it really was. Lilian was sniggering off to Mary's left, and Mary herself was laughing freely. Remus started to move forward to force it to change again, but it – the boggart with Riddle's personality and Ginny's face – flipped him the bird. He froze, clearly astonished. "Bugger off! I'm going!" the boggart snapped.

It stalked back to the box and, with a final, scornful glare at the lot of them, closed the lid with a bang.

All four of them watched the box for a long second, and then Lilian snorted, and as though that were some sort of signal, they burst into laughter simultaneously.

"Who even was that?" Remus asked, when he got himself back under control.

The question set off another wave of laughter from Mary and Hermione. Lilian, who knew the story, but hadn't seen the young Tom Riddle's face, was the one who answered. "I, um… I think it was the Dark Lord. Riddle. He was possessing Ginny, you see…" she trailed off into another fit of giggles as Hermione nodded.

Mary literally had tears in her eyes, she was laughing so hard. "What the hell, Maia?" she asked. "Do you really think Tom Riddle is worse than a dementor?"

Hermione shuddered. "It made me remember him – last time, my boggart was failure. I mean, it probably still was, but… It wasn't like that, before."

Remus was just staring at the girls, as though he had never seen a witch before in his life. "Are you telling me that that was Lord Moldyshorts?"

Mary nodded. "Remember, I told you he was possessing Ginny?"

"Yes…"

"Well, um…"

"I ended up with a copy of Ginny's memories of last year," Hermione admitted. "And before you ask, you really don't want to know how."

Remus' eyes narrowed. "Someday I will no longer be your professor, Miss Granger. And when that day comes, I want a full accounting of what the bloody fuck is going on in this school! That goes double for you, Mary!"

All three of the girls laughed. Mary couldn't tell if he was more upset that there were possibly dangerous things going on, or if he was offended by the fact that they were keeping secrets from an ex-Marauder. "I'll write you come July first," she promised. She shot a quick look at Hermione, who shrugged. "With as many secrets as I'm allowed to tell."

The werewolf professor harrumphed. "Fine. Now, everyone have a chocolate frog." He passed around a box. "There's nothing like chocolate to dispel the effects of dark magic on the mind."

"Did you guys get anything?" Mary asked, as all four of them indulged in the hopping chocolates.

Lilian shook her head. "I got distracted by the memories."

"Me too."

"I thought I had a wisp of something," Hermione claimed, "but it could have been just more of that white fog-stuff."

"Are we going to go again?" Lilian asked. Mary was on her feet and headed back for the center of the room again before anyone else could answer.

"This time I will intercept the boggart if necessary, I think," Remus said, but he did not object to the second attempt.

The girls tried and failed again. They sat around trying to think of happier memories for fifteen minutes. Mary decided to try to use Christmas with the Grangers instead. Acceptance, she thought, like Remus.

But the third try was a failure as well, and Remus said absolutely not when it came to a fourth go-round. His actual words were, "You lot may be some sort of masochists, but three dementor exposures in half an hour is quite enough for this old man. It's just gone nine, anyway, and I've still got marking to do for tomorrow." The trio, with a bit of good-natured ribbing over his procrastination, left him to it.

Mary decided on the way back to the dorms that she was glad he had made them stop: she hadn't realized until they had to walk all the way back to the dungeons how utterly drained the three attempts had left her. She and Lilian were practically tripping over each other. She could only imagine how Hermione felt: the Ravenclaw had to go upstairs to get to her room.

Friday, 28 January 1994

Remus Lupin's Office

As Mary had become far more aware since November, the Thursday of the week that followed the first attempt at Patronus lessons was the day of the full moon. Moonrise was so early in the evening that they didn't even see Remus at dinner for most of the week – he was, Slytherin quietly supposed, already transformed, drugged with Wolfsbane and warded into his office or something.

Mary was still excused from Quidditch practice and there were no detentions or extra Charms lessons to contend with, which left her with an almost uncomfortable amount of free time. After the constant rush of the previous term, she hardly knew what to do with herself on a free afternoon anymore.

Professor Flitwick had asked her to remain behind after Dueling Club on Sunday, where she was given a rather stern talking-to about her impromptu honor duel the previous weekend. The tiny professor seemed to think that her time in the hospital wing was sufficient outright punishment for this particular offence, but he did warn her that participating in the Dueling Club was a privilege, not a right: if he caught wind of her fighting outside of sanctioned, supervised duels, she would no longer be welcome.

Mary was torn between relief that she wasn't to be punished more severely and outrage that she could be banned from the club she had pushed to start for something that wasn't really her fault, but she held her tongue and promised that she had no intention of using the dueling skills the professor was teaching her against her fellow students. If it came down to self-defense, though (or defending Dave against the other Slytherins) she privately suspected that she would sacrifice her membership in the Dueling Club to protect herself.

By Monday, Hermione, who seemed to have resolved to spend more time with her friends since she and Mary had caught up over break, had managed to wrangle a few tips on scrying from Snape, and had dragged her Slytherin friends to the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor to attempt to practice the obscure art. They didn't get very far at all, seeing as the first step in reaching a trance state was meditating. Neither Lilian nor Hermione were very patient people, and the youngest of the trio was more interested in the practice room, which somehow shaped itself to its users' needs, than the divination. Snape had, apparently, recommended it. As Hermione had mentioned over break, it was the same room where the Mabon ritual had been held, though it had then been filled with a small forest. It seemed a waste to make it take the shape of what amounted to an unusually cozy sitting room when it could be anything. She had decided almost at once that she would have to find the time to explore it a bit more, but despite the lack of other extracurricular activities, she did not find the opportunity that week.

Later that very evening, Slytherin house was fully distracted from the lingering irritation surrounding the fallout from the Potter-Bletchley duel by the fact that the full moon – the first full moon since they had learned that Professor Lupin is a werewolf – was fast approaching. Mary had been hoping that the silver lining to the most recent bout of Intra-House discomfort would be that no one would even remember that little fact, but as things transpired, it was the other way around. "Just to be on the safe side," because the prefects didn't know exactly where Remus would be or what protections were in place to keep him confined in wolf form, every member of the house was expected to abide by an early curfew for two days on either side of the full moon.

This meant that they were escorted back to the Commons by the prefects immediately after dinner every evening from Tuesday through Saturday. Thursday's Quidditch practice was re-scheduled for the following Monday (which Mary was pleased about, because she would be back in the air by then), and no one was allowed to go out until breakfast unless they had a legitimate excuse, like detention or Slythering 101, and were escorted by a pair of prefects. (What the rest of the school thought about this, or whether they even noticed, Mary wasn't sure.)

The whole arrangement was perfectly ridiculous: They had made it through the first three full moons of the year with no incidents, after all. It wasn't as though Remus was just wandering the halls as a werewolf! He might not even be in the school at all! But Mary hadn't actually thought to ask him what precautions were in place and, even if she had, the prefects would probably still have wanted to verify them independently, so in the interests of not causing even more tensions within the House, she hadn't complained. She had decided that she should visit Remus the morning after the full moon, and assure him that even though her House mates were acting like arseholes of the highest order, she truly didn't mind that he was a werewolf.

Unfortunately, the werewolf professor wasn't in the Great Hall that morning. It wasn't until Mary had checked both his office and his classroom that she realized he was probably still a wolf somewhere: it was still dark out, and the moon hadn't fully set.

She didn't manage to catch up with him until nearly the end of lunch, when she found him in his office, prepping for his afternoon classes.

She knocked gently on the half-open door. He invited her in with a rather harried expression. "What is it, Mary?"

"I come bearing gifts," she announced, somewhat taken aback by his short tone.

"Oh. Um… thanks?" Remus' confusion was equally evident in his tone and on his face as he accepted the bag of chocolate-covered espresso beans she had ordered from Honeydukes. "What's the occasion?"

The girl shrugged. "I just kind of wanted to make sure you were okay. And, um… apologize."

The professor continued to look baffled. "What for?"

She made an involuntary noise of frustration. "My House mates are all idiots!"

Remus gave her a very small, very tired smile. "I don't really have time for twenty questions, Mary…"

"So you… you haven't even noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

"The prefects, um..."

Remus looked at his watch in a rather significant way, then continued shuffling through folders and scrolls. "I'm still listening, I promise, but I really do have to get ready for class."

"We're not allowed to go out alone after moonrise until the prefects figure out what precautions have been taken for, you know. Your condition. We've had early curfew the last three nights."

The werewolf looked up to see the worried expression on her face, and sighed deeply. "Oh, well..."

"That's all you have to say? 'Oh, well'? Did you even know?"

He ran a hand through his prematurely greying hair. "What do you want me to say, Mary? No, I didn't know, but it's not exactly surprising." He added something under his breath that might have been 'bloody Severus.'

"They're being completely unreasonable!"

"They're really not," he corrected her. "They've kept it a secret, which is more than I could have hoped for, and, well… there are precautions in place: wolfsbane, wards, an Unbreakable Vow – though to be honest I'm not sure that last one will bind the Wolf. Not exactly the sort of thing you can test. But it's not as though they've been publicized, anyway."

Mary gave an irritable huff. "That's not the point! Even if it was just the potion, you'd be safe, right? And you don't even have to transform unless it's the actual moon, do you?"

"No, I don't, but I could, at least the three nights of the moon, if I lost control enough. The potion inhibits the first and fifth – the wolf is simply too weak to force the transformation so far out from the moon so long as I take it."

"So why didn't you come to dinner on Tuesday, then?" the girl asked irritably.

Her professor rolled his eyes. "I was trying to get ahead on lesson plans and marking, since someone had to cover my first class this morning – and he used the lack of a lesson plan last time to deviate from the schedule. Bastard."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," Remus repeated, slightly sarcastically. "You know, I'm not supposed to say this, but your Head of House is a dick."

Mary couldn't help but snigger slightly. The ex-Marauder had a gift for comedic delivery, even when he was insulting people she liked. "I don't know that most of the House would disagree, actually," she admitted. "He can be nice when he wants to be, though."

"Severus Snape? Nice? Have you been confunded?" He squinted suspiciously at her eyes.

"No, of course not!" she protested. "Are you ever going to tell me why the two of you hate each other so much?"

Remus shook his head briefly, his eyes suddenly back on his papers. "I don't hate him."

"Why he hates you, then!"

"No," the werewolf said firmly, despite the obvious exhaustion in his voice. Apparently he was too tired to try to change the subject properly. "It was a long time ago, and… just… no."

The Slytherin groaned. "Fine. I will find out eventually, though!"

The professor snorted. "You get your stubbornness from your father," he observed.

"Professor McGonagall said I got that from my mum," Mary smirked.

"She was pretty stubborn, too, but she had nothing on Jamie – this is the kid who dragged Peter Pettigrew kicking and screaming through the Animagus transformation. Lily would lose interest in things after a time, but I don't think I ever saw James give up on anything once he set his mind on it."

The teenager grinned. One of the best things about spending time with Remus was the casual mentions of her parents. But that reminded her: "Hey, you never told me, what were Peter and Black's animagus forms?"

The bells that signaled the end of lunch started ringing as she asked, and Remus began shoving folders and scrolls into his briefcase before answering, somewhat distractedly. "Peter – Wormtail – he was a rat, and Siri-Black – he was a dog – Padfoot." He ushered her toward the office door. "Come on, you lot get all sorts of free periods, but I'm expected to be teaching right now…"

Monday, 31 January 1994

Hogwarts' Library

When Slytherin's (mostly) voluntary house arrest ended on Saturday morning, Mary took full advantage of what felt like her first moment of freedom since her duel, testing the capabilities of the fascinating new Room and the Firebolt at the same time.

It was brilliant. She had no idea how, but somehow the Room was bending space so that she could race off in what felt like an absolutely straight line, headed left from the door along an endless corridor, and yet somehow loop around to find it coming up on her left again, after several minutes' flight at top speed. She could make obstacles, pushing out from the walls and ceiling, or twist the passageway to be more like a cave or a tunnel than a track. After an hour or so, she got really clever and asked the Room to give her things to dodge that she wasn't expecting. To her utter delight, it managed to create little gun-towers, shooting what seemed to be tennis balls covered in red chalk at her. She was less delighted when the first of these hit her, sending up a cloud of obscuring dust and causing her to run headlong into a nearly-invisible projection extending half-way across her course. Thankfully, the obstacle was somewhat gelatinous and semi-solid, rather than stone like the wall it resembled, or else she might have had another broken arm. As it was, she spent nearly twenty minutes trying to extricate herself from it before she realized that she could just ask the room to let her down.

On Sunday, Lilian and Hermione accompanied her, and the older Slytherin transformed the Room into a gravity-free space at least as large as a muggle gymnasium. The three of them had more fun than Mary had known was possible bouncing around and trying to stun each other in emulation of the Battle Game from the book Hermione had given Mary for Christmas in their very first year. It was even harder than she would have expected, trying to aim while spinning wildly through the air.

Monday passed quickly between classes and the resumption of Quidditch practice, the only real event of note being Luna Lovegood's invitation for Mary and Lilian to join her for the celebration of Imbolc, which would take place at midnight the following day. She had sought them out in the library, and they could hardly say no. Hermione was rather put out that she had not been invited as well.

The fey Ravenclaw had quirked her head to the side for a moment, and her shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Hermione Jean," she whispered, mindful of the lurking librarian, "Imbolc is the celebration of the Youthful Power – Honesty, Innocence and Naiveté. Your soul is not a child's soul, and your choices have carried you far into her Dark Sister's realm."

The older Ravenclaw's face had drained of all color as Lilian looked on in confusion and Mary with no small measure of concern. "What do you know?" she asked, her voice sharp and quiet.

Luna gave her House mate a small, disconcerting smile and stared off slightly into the distance rather than focusing on Hermione's face as she answered: "More than I need to, and less than I want to… except when it's the other way around. Don't worry so much, Hermione Jean. Those who would believe won't listen, and those who would listen wouldn't believe, and of all who hear, none comprehend, so it is hardly worth speaking at all."

"Luna…"

The youngest girl sighed, her gaze suddenly not only focused, but sharp. "Your secrets are safe with me, Hermione Jean."

Hermione did not look very reassured but, before she could object in some way, Lilian interrupted. "What secrets?"

The brunette gave an exasperated sigh, but the little blonde laughed. "Secrets aren't secrets if they're told, Lilian Grace."

The bold Slytherin pouted at the younger girl before addressing the object of the secrets in question. "Why does she get to know and I don't?"

"I certainly didn't tell her!" Hermione defended herself. "How does Luna know anything? She just does. It's rather irritating, actually."

Luna gave her a funny little half-smile. "Irritation amuses me; mystery amuses you: a well-balanced interaction on the whole. You may observe, if you like, but whether you know it or not, your Choice has been made, on this axis, at least."

"Do you know what they're talking about?" Lilian asked Mary.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked irritably.

Mary suspected that Luna had been referencing Hermione's exploratory Dark Arts reading, but she certainly didn't want to admit that she knew that particular secret when Lilian didn't, and risk the ire of both of her friends as well as Snape, who had told her not two weeks before not to go spreading the secret around. Instead, she deliberately misinterpreted the question. "I think they're back on Imbolc, now."

Luna shrugged, ignoring the Slytherins. "We are none of us creatures of all dark or all light, but Eve chose Knowledge over Innocence, and you would do the same, would you not? I expect I shall see you all tonight, then. Scrying Tower, just before midnight."

"That's not what I – oh, never mind. Yes, Luna. Midnight. Scrying Tower. Which one is that again?" Lilian asked, exasperated.

"The one where the air is clearer, and Sight is paramount: the sounds of the castle don't reach it, and you can see the whole grounds, if you care to look."

Surprisingly, Mary thought she might know which tower the younger girl meant; she had stumbled across it her first year, at Yule, and spent the day meditating there. "The one off the sixth-floor corridor with the statue of the Children of Cerridwen? There's like, an endless spiral stair, and then a little round room at the top, with windows and benches all around?"

Luna nodded eagerly. "Yes, the Scrying Chamber. It's the only place in the school where one can see past the anti-scrying wards."

"There are anti-scrying wards on the castle?"

The younger Ravenclaw looked slightly surprised at Hermione's outburst. "Of course there are! Daddy says they're to stop people spying on the school, but they stop the school spying out, as well."

"Is that why I've been having so much trouble trying to figure out this trance thing?"

The younger Ravenclaw smirked. "No, that is an entirely different problem." She wandered away without elaborating, leaving Hermione to chase after her, demanding an explanation.

"Should we be worried about Maia killing her one of these days?" Mary asked, mostly rhetorically.

Lilian answered anyway, stifling a chuckle as Madam Pince glared at their table. "Um… probably not? But then, I thought Jeanie knew about Lune's sense of humor. You'd think she'd realize she's only winding her up…" She trailed off pensively for a long moment. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they're flirting, but if Lune is, I don't think Jeanie's realized it."

"Wait – you think Luna's interested in Maia? She's like, twelve."

It was strange to imagine wanting to date or snog someone herself, or whatever it was that you were supposed to want to do when you were interested in them, let alone thinking of someone younger than herself dwelling on those sorts of thoughts. (Much less Luna, who hardly seemed to live in the same world as the rest of them half the time: it was a bit odd thinking of the little Ravenclaw doing anything so… normal as flirting.)

Apparently Lilian didn't agree. "So? This is Luna we're talking about, and anyway, we're only a year older. I'm sure I've seen you checking out Snark's arse in his Quidditch robes, not to mention the way you practically idolized Envy all of last spring."

Mary squirmed uncomfortably under her friend's gaze. "I never had a crush on Envy. I just wanted to learn all her tricks before she left the team for her OWLs." She ignored the comment about Snark, mostly because she didn't know how to explain that as much as she enjoyed watching him fly, she didn't want to date him or anything.

Unfortunately, Lilian wasn't quite so willing to let it go. She gave the younger girl a positively evil smirk before she said, "What about Snark, then? And didn't you tell me you would've said yes when Kirke asked you to Hogsmeade if you could have done?"

"Kirke's nice. Out of all the boys who asked me, he was the only one it wouldn't have been awkward to spend the day with," she pointed out reasonably.

"He's also very fit."

Mary could feel her face heating up. That was true. He was generally considered to be one of the best-looking boys in third, fourth and fifth years. "He is, but that doesn't mean I fancy him. Same for Snark."

"Well who do you fancy, then? There has to be someone."

Gods and Powers, this was embarrassing. "No, there's not."

"There has to be," Lilian insisted. "Is it Blaise? Diggory? Daphne? Ginny? Draco? Oh, Merlin, it's not Dave, is it?"

"Ew, no! Dave's like… a little kid! And no, no, no, no, and Circe, no, definitely not Draco – besides, you two are dating, remember?"

The older girl rolled her eyes. "Hardly. Come on, give me a hint! Guys or girls? Ooh, is it a teacher? Is it Professor D'Onofrio?"

"No! Look, I don't fancy anyone, okay? End of story!" Was that really so hard to believe?

Apparently it was. In true Witch Weekly Reporting fashion, Lilian had decided that Mary's more vehement denial of her affections for Draco (as compared to everyone else she suggested) meant that she was trying to desperately to conceal a crush on the pointy-faced ponce. While the younger girl supposed that was better than her best friend thinking there was something weird or wrong with her because she truly didn't fancy anyone at the moment, it was more than a bit disconcerting that Lilian absolutely did not believe her when she said she didn't. And it was more than a bit irritating when she pulled Blaise and Pansy into the game of trying to figure out 'Mary Potter's Secret Crush' over dinner.

Mary thought it showed great restraint that she refrained from stabbing the older girl with her fork over that particular decision. Blaise obviously wasn't taking it very seriously, making suggestions like Percy Weasley and Hagrid, but Pansy definitely was, which Mary was certain meant that the whole Castle would be spouting rumors about her (nonexistent) love life by breakfast.

Tuesday, 1 February 1994 (Imbolc)

Scrying Tower

Despite Lilian's teasing (and the fact rumors had, indeed, sprung up in the wake of said teasing), Mary couldn't really avoid her or give her the silent treatment the following day, as they had both agreed to attend Luna's Imbolc celebration. They were the last to arrive, the dungeons being much further from the Scrying Tower than Ravenclaw or Gryffindor; to Mary's slight surprise, Ginny had apparently been invited as well.

It was also a bit of a surprise to see Thomas, Kirke, and Lara, as well as Aerin and Hermione. For some reason she hadn't realized that the younger Ravenclaw spent as much time with her fourth-year House mates as she apparently did.

Thomas, a rather quiet, intense boy, spoke up as soon as she and Lilian arrived, before they could even finish removing their footfall-silencing and scent-reducing charms. They didn't quite have the hang of Disillusionment, the latest Sneaking Spell, but as long as they didn't actually walk into the same corridor as Mrs. Norris, Filch, or a prefect patrol, visibility hardly mattered. "Hey Lu, we're all here now. Are you going to tell us why, or not?" He sounded a bit nervous. Perhaps he didn't like to be breaking curfew?

"I've already told you, I need your help to balance a ritual."

"Yeah, princess, you mentioned that," Kirke drawled. He was always far more self-assured than Thomas, which was probably part of the reason so many people liked him. "But what does the ritual do? And how do we balance it?"

"It can't be anything too bad," Lara said, elbowing the nearer of her two friends in the side before Luna could answer. "It's Imbolc for God's sake."

"Goddess," Luna corrected with a small, mischievous smile. "Tonight we're invoking the Youthful Power in the aspect of Gelach – potential in waiting. You three and Hermione Jean will be the Second Circle – experience. Aerin Mae, Ginevra Phyllis, Lilian Grace, and Mary Elizabeth will be the First Circle – standing between innocence and experience."

"Does that make you innocence, then?" Ginny asked curiously.

By the light of the waning moon coming in through the windows, Luna's eyes looked about a thousand years old. A heavy silence settled in before she said, simply, "No." Then she blinked, and the moment passed. She smiled that strange little half-smile and walked directly up to Thomas, extending a hand. "Your role is only to observe, Thomas Eliot. Will you accept it?"

The older boy still looked rather doubtful, but he took her hand and let her lead him toward the windows at the northernmost point of the room, with the lake behind him. Hermione was moved to the west and the forest, Kirke (whose full name was apparently Dermott Alexander) to the south, where Mary could just make out the lights of Hogsmeade glimmering in the distance, and Lara (Rose) to the east, with the profile of the nearest mountains looming over her shoulders, framed by her window.

After the four 'observers' were in place, the young Ravenclaw approached her year mate. "Ginevra Phyllis… You will stand for chance," she said firmly. Mary noted that the redhead was apparently not to be given a choice when it came to whether she would participate, as the older quartet had been, but she nodded anyway, and was led to stand between Lara and Kirke, somewhat closer to the center of the room. Lilian was apparently choice, standing between Kirke and Hermione. Mary herself was declared to be fate, and took her place between Hermione and Thomas. The last to be assigned a role was Aerin: innocence. She moved to her place without prompting.

All eight of them were facing the center of the circle, the center of the room, so it was a bit unexpected when Luna failed to move to that spot, instead standing back to back with Aerin, and raising her arms to the window before her. From her place in the circle, Mary could just make out the younger girl's profile, ghostly in the same white robes she had worn to the previous year's midsummer celebration, hair silvered by the moonlight and her eerie-light eyes bright with excitement. She stood in sharp contrast to the rest of them, who had all worn darker colors for sneaking about, and who mostly looked confused.

There was always a slightly sing-song quality to the little Ravenclaw's voice, so it was hard for Mary to say whether the invocation she spoke was meant to be a chant or a song, or just straightforward declaration: "My lady, I call out to you, to the power of youth, to what-may-be, to the moon and the distant winter sun. I call to you by the promise of the return of the light, as the Dark half of the year comes to an end, and by my dedication to your grace. I call you by your name, Gelach: maiden moon, peace-bound equal of wild Diana; bearer of the burden of the turn of the seasons, sky-borne balance to the Lady of Dis; youthful daughter of Macha, pale twin of Áine the Sun, spirit-sister of apple-bearing Iðunn. Join us this night in celebration!"

A presence seemed to be building within the room – a sense of magic and potential filling the air with tingling power, not entirely unlike the sense Mary had had of the manifestation of Magic at her birthday, though that seemed an awfully long time ago, now. Luna seemed to sense it, too, as she abandoned her position and began to make her way around the circle, weaving between the others as she continued to speak.

"Four stand as witnesses for Experience this night: Two by choice and two by nature, their minds, their bodies and souls no longer yours, but given over to the Dark mirror of Youth by their own will and the passage of Time. Four stand poised at the boundary, children still, and yet touched by darkness, yours, but not yours alone. Untamable, fire burning away fear, the heart of a child chosen for sacrifice and saved by chance, bound not to be so again."

The white-robed girl paused before her very confused Gryffindor friend and traced a symbol over Ginny's heart, light following her wand, before crossing the circle to stand before Mary.

"Undeniable, power of fate, shaping the child chosen as its instrument, the catalyst who will, in her turn, shape the world." The younger girl traced mysterious symbols over her palms, which tickled slightly, but laughter was the furthest thing from her mind, given the words that had just been spoken. A catalyst to shape the world? What on Earth was that supposed to mean? Did she dare hope it wasn't as ominous as it sounded?

Lilian was next, "Choice deferred, made and unmade by secrets kept, the child haunted by the past, her future in her own hands." She shivered visibly as Luna's wand flicked over her mouth.

Aerin looked troubled even before her friend approached her, and no less so after the younger girl declared her to be "the child living in that blissful state of innocence, easy heart unaware of the past, future held in the hands of others, at the mercy of their will, and yet not without hope." Her symbol was traced over her forehead, and Luna retired to the center of the circle. Mary wondered uneasily if she was about to tell them all about Connor. She hoped not. That would be a hell of a way for Aerin to find out. Lilian, judging by the quick look she sneaked at the other Slytherin, was equally concerned.

Luna, however, obviously wasn't. She spun in place for a moment, the magic in the circle – the room, for the whole room was the circle – twisting around her, then knelt suddenly, facing Aerin, her hands once again in the air, extended as though begging for favor or mercy.

"By these four aspects of potential untried – bold, powerful, uncertain, and innocent – I call upon the Youthful Power! Lady Gelach, winter sun, maiden moon, join your oath-bound daughter, tainted by grief and knowledge too young, but yet sworn to serve; by my mother's sacrifice and by my own choice I give myself over to you!"

White flames burst into being all around the kneeling girl, twining around her limbs and sinking into the exposed skin of her hands and face; lifting her hair in a silvery halo; raising her to her (bare) feet in a visible corona of power. Mary could feel it drawing its strength from her along with the others, her magic flowing out of her through the runes Luna had drawn on her palms. Just when she began to worry that she would collapse before the ritual ended, as the grey cobwebs of magical exhaustion began to close in, it stopped.

The white fire condensed itself into Luna's body, setting her back on her feet. She turned around slowly, taking them in, her eyes glowing with unnatural light.

She smiled and stepped out of the circle, tracing light fingers across Aerin's shoulders as she moved to stand before Lara. She cocked her head to the side slightly and laughed. When she spoke, her voice was the same as ever, but the tone held a foreign resonance of power. "My Luna is a clever girl, but she was wrong about you. Despite your age, there is still innocence in you."

She reached up and pulled the older girl's face down with both hands, kissing her forehead as Hermione had done to Mary in the hospital wing, like an older sister, for all she was half a foot shorter, before doing much the same thing to Kirke.

She flitted away across the circle, even lighter on her feet than Luna (for Mary was quite certain that this was not Luna, or not just Luna) normally was, and came to rest before Thomas. "Precocious boy," she smirked. "I cannot offer you my blessing, for you truly have taken yourself outside my sphere. You have not left the realm of Youth entirely, but you are out of my reach." He nodded, an expression of mingled confusion and relief on his face.

Hermione looked almost afraid when the goddess came to her, an expression of concern marring Luna's features. "She was right about you, too. Your choices have given your soul over to the realm of Experience. More than any of the others, you have deliberately stepped away from the sphere of Youth as a whole, and so you, too, are beyond my reach." The older girl let her head fall forward, her hair obscuring her face from Mary's sight as she peered behind herself to watch their interaction.

The goddess seemed to take this for a nod, for she skipped back to the center of the circle and smiled brightly at the six to whom she could, apparently, offer her blessing, whatever that might be. Mary had a sense, as though a voice was whispering from somewhere inside her head: "Let us be one."

And then the world dissolved, or maybe Mary did. Looking back later, she decided that it felt a bit as though whatever it was that made Mary herself was pulled out of body, by the same channel her magic had taken, flowing into the white flames, but in the moment it felt as though everything, herself included, was simply unraveling.

She found herself in a non-space, facing Luna, the real Luna, wrapped in the arms of a construct of light, like a human-shaped Patronus. The construct whispered something in Luna's ear and she giggled, skipping over to Aerin and spinning her in a circle in the void. Except it wasn't a void. Lilian and Ginny were there, too, looking as confused as she felt, and Lara and Kirke, who gravitated toward Luna and Aerin as though they knew what was going on.

Ginny and Lilian floated toward her, or maybe she toward them. They seemed to understand their shared sense of bafflement without needing to speak. In all honesty, Mary wasn't sure she could speak if she wanted to, and she had no desire to find out. She was much more interested in the feeling that the longer she stood – floated – there, the more she realized she could sense… something. Little sparks and flames, burning in some way she couldn't quite see (though sight was the closest thing she could think to compare it to) out in the darkness. It was as though this sense she had never before been aware of was slowly adjusting to the space, as she became aware of more and more flickering flames and pinprick sparks in the distance.

Well… "Distance." The term didn't seem to have much meaning here.

Luna burned steadily, like a lamp turned low. Aerin, Lara, and Kirke were brighter, while Ginny's flame was more like smoldering coals, and Lilian's guttered, as though it was struggling in a strong wind.

The goddess-construct materialized out of the darkness close enough for Mary to make out general features in the blinding glow of her face. She had been so focused on the flames rather than what she was actually seeing that she hadn't even realized it was gone. It – she – laughed, and in the same way she had known that she – they – had become one with the goddess, Mary knew that the construct had not truly been gone, but rather everywhere, and thus imperceptible. The sparks, she realized in the next instant, were children. Animals. Insects. Seeds. All the sleeping potential of life not yet acted upon. The world through the goddess's eyes. The construct winked at her, or perhaps all of them, as it vanished again, and she saw Lilian and Ginny staring at the spot where it had been as well, their wide-eyed expressions no doubt mirroring her own, before all three of them turned to take in the invisible starscape of potential laid out before them.

It was, in a word, beautiful.

Then it seemed she blinked, though she didn't think she had, and when she opened her eyes, she was back in her own body, peering, confused, around the moonlit Scrying Tower. The exhaustion she had felt when her magic had been used to help power Gelach's manifestation or possession, or whatever that had been, had vanished, leaving a sense of rejuvenation in its wake. All of the others who had been in the Void seemed similarly energized, with the exception of Luna, who was swaying on her feet. Hermione and Thomas, the only two not disoriented by the ritual, hurried forward to catch her as she sank to her knees, whispering the devocation and thanks to the Youthful power for blessing her with the presence of her patron goddess.

When she was done, the others, who had gathered around in various states of ritual-borne euphoria and concern, murmured a ragged chorus of, "Blessings of the light."

The little Ravenclaw, looking more waif-like than usual as she was bodily supported by her House mates, blinked up at them sleepily and said, "I think that went rather well, don't you?"

[IRL Gelach is an Old Irish word that means moon, not, so far as I know, an actual goddess. Her traits in this story are a syncretic amalgamation of the Irish goddess of the winter sun (Grian) and Roman and Viking influences including Proserpina, Iðunn, and Diana.]

[Hermione's quote is from Peter Pan.]