The following day, Rosie was in the library with Harry, Hermione and Neville. Luna had been studying with them earlier, but had departed to do whatever mysterious thing she needed to do on a Thursday afternoon. Rosie had finished off most of her assignments, so she had grabbed a book on magical babies. It was hard to find any books related to babies that didn't relate to their care, but babies were the only lead she had in terms of understanding empathic links.

As she scanned over the chapters on baby magic (which focused largely on accidental magic), she kept half an ear on Harry, Hermione and Neville's soft but earnest discussion.

"What do you think of what Professor Binns was saying?" Hermione asked Harry and Neville.

"About how the Chamber of Secrets and the Monster aren't real?" Neville asked.

"Yeah."

"I don't know what to think. Binns did say that Dumbledore never found it, and he's the most powerful wizard there is," Neville replied thoughtfully.

"Well, something hurt Inglebee. It's not like we can deny that," Harry said, a frown marring his features.

"And Dean did bring up a valid point in class," Hermione added. "It could very well be that only a Slytherin can open the Chamber."

"So do you think it's the Slytherin's?" Neville asked.

"It isn't the Slytherins," Rosie cut in. Harry, Hermione and Neville all turned their heads to look at her, a questioning expression on their faces.

"I spoke to some of the Slytherins in my class. They told me that none of them know where the Chamber of Secrets is. They don't even know who the Heir is," Rosie explained.

Hermione frowned. "And you believe them?" she asked.

"Of course! What would they gain by lying? If the Slytherins knew where the Chamber of Secrets was, don't you think they'd have used it?"

Harry, Hermione and Neville considered her words. However, Hermione's expression remained doubtful.

"There could be a reason that they're hiding it that we just don't know about," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, Malfoy was acting pretty suspiciously happy about the whole thing," Neville added.

"He's been positively gleeful," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "It's painful to watch."

"He must know something!" Hermione asserted.

"Well, if you think he knows something, then what do you plan to do?" Rosie asked. Hermione and Harry shared a glance.

"Polyjuice potion," said Hermione.

"What? That's a sixth year potion!" Rosie exclaimed. Hermione's expression was almost smug.

"Harry and I are working on it together," Hermione explained.

Neville looked vaguely guilty. "I wish I could help, but you know me - I'm hopeless with potions"

"Oh Neville," said Hermione. "Don't worry about it. Your part is still important."

"Who are you planning to change into?" Rosie asked, curious.

"Crabbe and Goyle," Harry told her, referring to Draco's two cronies.

"And Millicent Bulstrode," Hermione added. Rosie looked at the three of them, unsure of whether she thought they were crazy, or whether she admired them.

"I thought you didn't believe in breaking the rules," Rosie said to Hermione. Hermione looked rather abashed.

"People are getting hurt. This is important," Hermione replied, stubbornly.

"Yeah, we can't just sit around!" Neville exclaimed. "That would be wrong." Harry nodded in agreement.

"Well, good luck then. Let me know what you find out," Rosie said.

The first Quidditch match of the season was at the end of the first week of November. The game was between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, and of course, Rosie had to go to support her brother. Luna decided to join her. However, Rosie hadn't caught sight of Romulus at all that day. Like Rosie, Luna had come to support the Gryffindors, though she had expressed disappointment that her Lion-hat was nowhere near finished. ("Do you think they'd understand if I wore the Raven-hat instead?") Rather than sitting with the Ravenclaws, the pair of them joined the crowd of Gryffindors, dressed in scarlet and gold, and climbed up the steps to the viewing stands.

Because Sirius (as well as her parents) had been Gryffindors, Rosie happened to have a red and gold scarf of her own, and she wore this in support of her brother. Luna lacked any articles of clothing that had both red and gold, so she opted to wear a plaid coat of magenta and sunflower-yellow. This she paired with a skirt that had a pattern of a crimson covered with blue pori-pori-berries, and warm mustard yellow tights. Luna attracted quite a few glances from the bewildered Gryffindors.

Rosie and Luna sat next to Hermione and Neville, who had also come to support Harry. Even Seamus and his friends had put aside their feelings of animosity towards Harry to come and watch the big game.

When Rosie saw Harry and his team coming out onto the pitch, she cheered as loudly as the rest of the Gryffindors. From the stands across the pitch, she could hear the Slytherin's booing and hissing. Though she wasn't a passionate fan of Quidditch, she found herself getting caught up in the exuberant mood of the crowd.

It had been overcast all morning, and as the game progressed, fat raindrops started to fall from the sky. The Slytherins were leading the game, and their plays were tight and aggressive. She vaguely remembered hearing that the entire Slytherin team had been given new brooms, and the advantage seemed to be working for them. They zoomed across the length of the pitch at incredible speeds, making sharp turns and quick plays.

As for Harry, he had been flying above the Quidditch pitch, keeping his eye out for the golden snitch. The Slytherin seeker, Draco Malfoy hoovered a short distance from Harry, also scanning the area for the snitch. It amazed Rosie that either of them could even see anything through the rain. The margin between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors was growing steadily wider, with the Slytherins in the lead. Suddenly, Harry's posture became alert. He bent low on his broom and began to fly at top speed in pursuit of the snitch. The Slytherin seeker, Draco, had spotted it only a second later, and the pair of them were almost neck to neck in pursuit of the small golden ball. Watching the play was exciting enough, but through her emotional link, she could feel the adrenaline coursing through Harry, and it almost felt like she was chasing the snitch herself. She found herself thinking: 'it's so close - so close!'

The crowds, both Slytherin and Gryffindor were yelling and cheering wildly. Most of them were standing, including Rosie, whose hands were balled up into fists as her eyes followed Harry, hoping, and hoping that he would be the one to catch the snitch.

The seekers were swerving and turning to match the zig-zagging flight of the snitch, as the Slytherins scored yet another goal. Harry's hands were stretched in front of him, reaching as far as he could, and the audience watched with rapt attention. At the precise moment when it looked like Harry had closed his hands around something, the Slytherin beater, Peregrine Derrick swung his bat with all his might, aiming the bludger straight for Harry. The bludger flew at him at a terrible speed, and Rosie almost thought she heard a crack as the bludger smashed into his reaching arm. Her heart felt as though it had stopped, and through the link, she felt both Harry's exuberance for having caught the snitch, as well as the emotional shock and pain of his bone breaking. Harry! She had to go to him!

Pushing past the crowd of students, she dashed down wooden steps of the Gryffindor stands and ran towards the Quidditch pitch. She could hear the announcer calling out the results of the game, but the words were a fuzzy blur. All she could think about was Harry.

She had almost reached Harry, who was looking dazed and cradling his arm, while his teammates hooted and cheered around him. However, before she could get to him, Professor Lockhart was rushing up to him first.

"Broke your arm, eh, Harry? Nasty hit, that. Worry not! This'll be an easy fix!" Lockhart was declaring, as he pulled out his wand with a dramatic motion that caused his turquoise robes to billow.

"Noo!" Rosie cried, as she threw herself in front of Harry, shielding him with her body. Lockhart paused, bewildered.

"Now, now, Primrose," Lockhart was saying reassuringly, "It's a simple charm. You don't want your brother to suffer longer than he needs to, do you?"

"I - I -" Rosie was in too much of an emotional panic. She couldn't think of an excuse to ward Professor Lockhart off. All she knew was that she didn't want the man directing any of his spells at her brother.

Suddenly Professor Snape seemed to materialize behind Professor Lockhart. He had been watching the game of course, since he had to support his Slytherins, and though he had no particular interest in the fate of Harry, he had seen Rosie's panicked face as she ran towards her brother.

"Gilderoy," Professor Snape said silkily.

"Ah, Severus! I'm trying to help Harry here, but his sister seems to be distraught. The girl has lost her wits!" Lockhart's expression was genuinely bewildered.

"She must be overwhelmed by your - presence," Snape drawled.

Lockhart brightened. "Oh! Of course! Naturally! I do tend to have that effect on the ladies," he said, beaming happily.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave," Snape said. "It seems the effect you are having on her is - too much to bear."

"Of course, of course! I don't want to go breaking more hearts than I need to!" Disturbingly, Professor Lockhart winked at Rosie before wandering off with a spring in his step.

Rosie watched him leave, and then looked up at Professor Snape, her body finally relaxing.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. The Professor inclined his head in acknowledgement before departing.

Soon after, Neville, Hermione and Luna had joined them on the ground, and together, they walked Harry to the Hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey, the matron of the hospital wing tutted when she saw Harry's arm.

"Something always happens on the first Quidditch game of the season," she sighed. She led Harry to a hospital bed, urging him to sit. Rosie, Harry and his friends were disturbed to see Duncan Inglebee's frozen body on one of the hospital beds, partially shielded by privacy curtains.

"This'll just take a second!" Madam Pomfrey told Harry, as she drew out her wand. "Don't crowd around." Rosie, Luna, Hermione and Neville backed away from the bed while Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on his oddly-bend arm.

"Brackium Emendo!" Madam Pomfrey enunciated with a wave her of wand. Rosie watched with fascination. Growing up, neither her nor Harry and really suffered any major injuries (unless you counted Harry's scar). She had gotten sick before, of course, and had to take potions, but this was her first time watching a healing spell in action. The break in Harry's arm quickly began to mend before their eyes.

"That's amazing!" Rosie exclaimed. Madam Pomfrey looked down at Rosie and smiled.

"You're all good now," Madam Pomfrey informed Harry, shooing him and his friends off. "Just don't do any heavy lifting with that arm for a few hours."

"How did you learn to do that, Madam Pomfrey? Do they offer a class at Hogwarts for healing?" Rosie asked the matron.

"Well dear, I'm afraid they don't offer classes here at Hogwarts," Madam Pomfrey said apologetically. "But I do occasionally take on apprentices, if a student expresses an interest."

"Would you be willing to teach me?" Rosie asked, her eyes shining hopefully. Madam Pomfrey smiled warmly.

"The wizarding world always needs more healers. Why don't you come by this evening at about 8o'clock. I can give you some books to read. If, after reading them, you find that you still have an interest, then we can consider your education."

"Thank you!" Rosie exclaimed. Madam Pomfrey waved her off.

Luna, Harry and Harry's friends had been waiting by the entrance of the Hospital wing for Rosie.

"What were you talking about with Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked curiously.

"I was interested in learning healing, so I asked her about it," Rosie replied.

"Is she going to teach you?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Well, she's giving me some books to read," Rosie responded.

"I don't think I'd ever want to be a healer," Neville said, scrunching up his face. "Dealing with people with Spattergroit, or Dragon pox or Scrofungulus? No thank you."

"I think it's very noble!" Hermione interjected. Rosie grinned at her.

"Will you be heading back to your common room?" Rosie asked the three of them. "There must be a big celebration going on after that win. By the way, congratulations, Harry!"

Harry grinned widely. "It was a pretty amazing game, wasn't it?"

Rosie and Luna split from Harry and his friends, all of them heading for their respective towers. Both Rosie and Luna had already finished all their homework, which meant that they both had the rest of the late afternoon and evening free.

"Are you going to work on your new hat?" Rosie asked Luna, as they walked along the corridors and up the stairs.

"Mm." Luna replied. "Though I think I need more feathers." Though Rosie was wildly curious about what the hat was supposed to be, she didn't ask Luna. She could sense that Luna preferred the surprise.

They headed up to their dormitory room. Since that incident with Toby, Luna stopped spending any time in the common room at all. As for Rosie, she was only there when Luna was out wandering. Those days were usually spent reading by the window with Romulus.

While Luna sat upon her bed and pulled out her bundle of feathers, cloth, beads, wire and other craft materials, Rosie sat on her own bed and pulled open the book that she had been reading about magical babies. She skimmed through various paragraphs here and there for about an hour but eventually, she found that she was unable to concentrate on the words.

"Can I read one of your copies of The Quibbler?" Rosie asked Luna, after reading the same paragraph three times and not absorbing any of the words.

"Of course!" Luna replied. She unlocked her trunk and pulled out the stack of magazines, setting it on bedside table next to Rosie's bed. Ever since Luna's things had started to go missing, she had taken to locking up her possessions, whenever she could remember to do so (and if she forgot, Rosie often reminded her.)

Rosie had just finished reading a long expose on the Rotfang conspiracy, as well as an article on a mysterious new epidemic that left wizards and witches believing that they were turkeys. She was now reading an article on a newly discovered 'extremely powerful and mysterious' runic pattern, when the feeling of blackness obscured the link between her and Harry. She kept her eyes on the page in front of her, but her eyes weren't focused on it. She found herself wondering, 'should I go to Harry? No - wait, he's probably in the Gryffindor common room. Isn't he?' Mentally, she probed at the blackness, but it was like trying to touch the sky at night.

She looked away from the article in The Quibbler to the book about baby magic beside her. Would the book even have any answers? Or was it just a futile search? What could the blackness possibly be? She had assumed it to be something dark, something to be fought against and defeated, but was she jumping to conclusions? Perhaps it was something completely benign.

Setting down The Quibbler she picked up the baby magic book again, scanning the pages. There were theories about how certain potions could potentially refine a baby's magic, theories about how a witch passes magic on to her baby in the womb, theories about the circumstances that were most likely to result in an incidence of accidental magic. There was also very long section about squibs, and speculations as to why squibs were born. She had come across a section that was speculating on baby communication, when she finally caught a reference to the idea of empathic links. She read the section eagerly, desperate for clues:

The notion of baby witches and wizards communicating via empathic links dates back to the mid 1600s. Baby witches and wizards have been known to be significantly more responsive and cognizant of people's' words and emotions than muggle babies, but the reason for this has yet to be discovered. Because it has long been established that performing legilimency on witches and wizards under the age of seven can potentially damage their fragile minds, no validation for this theory has yet been found. It is highly possible that empathic links in babies is itself a rarity. There have been at least 14 documented cases in the 1800s of baby witches and wizards who were clearly experiencing the same thing as their parents, many miles away.

Experiments had been performed in the early 1800s, forcibly separating hundreds of wizarding children from their parents to determine whether or not such a link existed, but the results of these experiments were inconclusive, and eventually abandoned due to the outcry from the wizarding community of having their children taken away.

Of the 14 documented cases, all of the babies lost their empathic link once they were able to articulate their first word. There has been about twenty cases in the past century of those claiming to have empathic abilities. Many of them were eventually exposed as frauds, and as for the rest, the results were inconclusive because of the nebulous nature of emotions and the difficulty of interpreting emotional messages. Only one witch, a muggleborn by the name of Agnes Seymour was confirmed to be a true empath.

Rosie stared at the page consideringly. Though the passage had very little to say about empathic links, she now had a name that could perhap yield more clues. The blackness still had not faded, and she found herself wondering what Harry was up to. She closed her eyes, and mentally delved into the blackness, trying to push her way past it. She kept thinking 'further, just a little bit further.' It seemed as though it was all around, thick, silent and endless. Immersed within it, it had an oddly comforting quality, and she felt weightless, light, as though she were dissolving away…

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Rosie! Rosie! Wake up!"

Luna was shaking her, and Rosie looked up at her friend in a daze.

"What's going on, Luna?" Rosie asked. "I closed my eyes for just a second." Luna's expression was less serene than usual, there was an unreadable quality in her eyes, almost as though Luna was peering into her soul.

"You've been sitting there with your eyes closed for for almost two hours," Luna informed her. The blood left Rosie's face.

"Two - hours?"

"It's nearly 8o'clock." said Luna.

"What? Oh no! I have to go! I'm supposed to meet Madam Pomfrey!" Without another word, Rosie grabbed her bookbag and raced out the dorms, and down the Ravenclaw tower towards the hospital wing.

When she arrived at the hospital wing, Rosie was out of breath and breathing heavily. She opened the door to the infirmary, calling out a hesitant, "Hello?"

"Hello dear! I wasn't sure if you were going to show up," Madam Pomfrey called out, coming out from behind the dividing curtains that offered patients a small measure of privacy. As the curtain was momentarily pushed aside, Rosie saw a body lying on the bed, holding what looked like a camera in the person's stiff hands.

"Is that -" Rosie's expression was startled and slightly frightened, as she wondered if she had just seen what she thought she saw.

"Did someone else get petrified?" Rosie asked Madam Pomfrey. The matron pursed her lips, as though she did not want to answer. She gave a curt nod.

"Don't be spreading the word around, now. We don't want to frighten the students."

Rosie furrowed her brow. "Will they be okay?" Madam Pomfrey's expression softened.

"Don't you worry dear. We're waiting for Professor Sprout's mandrakes to reach their full size. Once they do, we'll be able to brew some Restorative Draught. They'll be perfectly fine."

Rosie sighed with relief.

"I'm guessing you came here for those books, and not to gawk?" Madam Pomfrey said, rather pointedly. Rosie nodded, feeling slightly abashed. Walking over to a table along one of the walls, she picked up a short pile of thick books and then handed them over to Rosie.

"Thank you!" Rosie said gratefully. Madam Pomfrey smiled warmly.

"I do hope you'll enjoy those books. Healing is a wonderful art that does the world so much good." Rosie nodded in agreement. She couldn't wait to learn everything she could about the magic of healing.

The following week, an owl swooped down over the breakfast table and Rosie received yet another letter from Remus. She was delighted to see that he was replying to her more frequently, and she excitedly opened and read the letter. She noticed that instead of simply answering her questions, he was starting to ask her questions of his own.

"Rom," Rosie said as she held the letter, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Remus says that when you were a kid, you used to make experimental potions with plants and herbs and you made him drink all your experiments?" Rosie grinned with amusement. "How did you manage not to kill him?"

Romulus scowled, putting down the piece of ham that he had been about to bite into. "What is Remus telling you?" He leaned his forehead against his hand, and growled with irritation. "I can't believe I suggested that you write him."

"Well, actually, it was my suggestion. But you approved." Rosie smiled cheekily.

"And of course I would never poison Remus! I tested all the plants and herbs on myself first," Romulus informed her.

"What? How?" Rosie exclaimed, shocked.

"First a skin test - I would rub the section of plant, either leaf, flower or root on my forearm. If there was no reaction, then the following day, I would put the part of the plant in my mouth, and then spit it out. If I still felt fine after that, I tried eating the plant. And of course, I usually kept vials of antidote and bezoar with me at all times. But I have a high tolerance for many poisons."

Rosie was impressed. She and Harry had never attempted making experimental potions in their makeshift lab in Grimmauld Place before. Even if they tried, neither of them would have dared to be the first to use the potion.

"I can see why Professor Snape would be willing to give you extra assignments. Why are you still in first-year potions class?" Rosie asked.

"I have to successfully make three potions of his choosing before I'm permitted to advance. I've already made one, and I'll be starting the next one tomorrow," Romulus explained. He was starting to feel a bit worn out, and took a bite of his ham. It was too much talking at once.

"I'll be sad when you're no longer my lab partner," Rosie said, smiling weakly at Romulus.

"You'll be fine," he replied with a shrug. "You're good at potions. His attention focused back on his food.

The lessons of the first year were starting to get slightly more challenging, but for many of the more diligent Ravenclaws, it presented no challenge. Like many of her other peers, Rosie had a strong grasp on the majority of the first year material. However, she found herself feeling a strong sympathy for Duncan Inglebee and the other mysterious student who were not able to attend their studies.

While the incident of Duncan's petrification had caused an immense outcry, both among students and the greater wizarding community at large, the second's student's petrification seemed to have been completely hushed up. She wouldn't even have known who it was, except that Harry, Hermione and Neville had told her that it was one of their first years, a boy named Colin Creevy, and that the Gryffindor house had been sworn to secrecy to not tell anyone 'lest they alarm the student body.' The orders were straight from the headmaster himself.

"But shouldn't they warn the students, so that they know to be careful?" Rosie had asked Harry and his friends, as they sat together at a table in the library.

"Shh!" replied Hermione. "We really shouldn't have even told you-"

"But I know you can keep a secret," Harry finished. "Besides, I agree with you Rosie. If more people know the details, then more minds can come together to solve this problem."

"I don't know, Harry," said Neville skeptically. "My parents have said that even the Ministry keeps a lot of things secret so that people don't panic."

"And I'm sure that the school is doing everything that they can to solve the problem," Hermione added.

"And that's why you three are brewing polyjuice potion? Because you have so much faith in the school?" Rosie asked, with an edge of irony in her voice. Hermione's ears pinkened, and she looked rather sheepish.

"Well, the school can't do everything. We have a duty to help," Hermione said, with a touch of defensiveness.

"How is the potion coming along, by the way?" Rosie asked. "Where did you get the ingredients for it?" Hermione flushed even deeper, looking almost beet red. Rosie looked from Harry to Hermione questioningly.

"It's better that you don't know," Harry said. "That way you won't get into trouble. But the potion is going well." Harry grinned. "It's a fun one to brew." Hermione nodded in response.

While Harry and Hermione had been busy with the polyjuice potion, Luna kept herself occupied working on her new hat (she could be extremely focused if a project mattered a great deal to her), and Rosie read the books Madam Pomfrey had given her on healing. She had also tried to do research on the empath, Agnes Seymour, but all she could find were old public records saying that Agnes Seymour was a muggleborn witch, and her profession was a healer. Evidently, she wasn't even a particularly famous healer, because when Rosie had asked Madam Pomfrey about Agnes Seymour, the matron had had no idea who Agnes even was.

The black outs in the empathic link between her and Harry seemed to be happening on a daily basis. Usually it would only occur once a day, for a few hours, but there were some days when it occurred twice. For whatever reason, she had never yet encountered Harry during these black out moments. She had also never tried to probe too deeply into the blackness again, after that incident where she had lost two hours of her life, wandering around in it.

Around mid-November, when Rosie had finished her Charms class and had to make her way to Potions, she had felt the black out encompassing the empathic link again. She was so accustomed to it at this point that she did not give it a great deal of thought. Harry himself had had no answers. Whenever she brought it up, he would seem clueless, or he would offer rationalizations ("Maybe it's just a part of growing up? You said that most babies lose their empathic abilities naturally. You could just be long overdue." "But it doesn't feel like I'm losing my empathic abilities, Harry!" "Yeah, but how would you know how something like that would feel like in the first place? You have had your abilities your whole life!")

She found herself wondering if Harry was right. Could the blackness just be a sign that her abilities were fading away? The thought made her incredibly sad - not because she was attached the ability, but because it made her feel as though she was somehow less close to Harry. Rosie balled her hands into tight fists, as she walked along the corridors that would take her towards the dungeons. If this was what growing up was all about, then she wish she didn't have to grow up!

Rosie's thoughts had distracted her to the point that when she was climbing down one of the staircases and it shifted its direction, she was completely caught off guard. Many of her classmates were already far ahead of her, which meant that she was the only one who had been caught on the wayward stairs. It also meant that she would have to take a bit of a detour - hopefully she wouldn't be late for Professor Snape's class. He had an extremely low tolerance for lateness - either docking a great deal of points, or sometimes even locking students out of the class altogether. She hurried her pace, turning a right and then a left.

Just as she turned around a bend, she caught sight of Harry in the intersecting corridor up ahead. Her brother looked as though he was having a rather personal conversation with one of the upperclassmen. The pair of them had their heads close together, and she couldn't hear a single word they were saying. Who was Harry talking to? It obviously wasn't Hermione or Neville, or even Fred or George Weasley. The person looked rather familiar - whoever he was, he was tall and slender, with glossy black hair. Unlike Harry, the person's hair was neat and tidy.

Harry and the older boy were standing in a shadowy part of the corridor, almost as though they did not want to be seen. Harry's expression had a strange intensity as though whatever information he was conveying was of the utmost importance. The tall boy occasionally nodded in response to his words. It was bizarre to be seeing Harry, but not feeling him, due to the black out of their link. What in the world was going on? The tall boy suddenly turned his head so that Rosie could see his profile, and she was shocked to see that it was Toby Woodbridge. What in Merlin's name could Harry possibly be saying to the Ravenclaw fourth year? She had been about to sneak closer to them, hoping to hear a whisper of their conversation when she felt a hand grip her arm. She almost jumped.

Rosie turned around to see Romulus behind her. He released her arm when her gaze focused on him.

"We're going to be late for potions if we don't hurry," he said. Rosie's eyes widened. She had almost forgotten! Nodding at Romulus, the pair of them turned back and dashed towards the dungeons, arriving just in the nick of time.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Romulus led Primrose through the corridors, and even took a shortcut through a secret staircase down to the dungeons. Without the shortcut, they would have been late and that could have potentially stirred up Professor Snape's ire enough that the Professor would refuse to let him do any more special projects. Professor Snape had always seemed like the sort of person that only gave you one chance, and if you failed him, it would be near to impossible to redeem yourself in his eyes.

Yet, when he noticed that Primrose wasn't with the rest of the Ravenclaws heading towards the dungeon, he knew he had to find her. One did not just abandon pack members after all, and though he may have tried to resist the idea earlier in the term, he now saw her as one of his pack.

"Miss Potter, Mr. Lupin," Professor Snape intoned as they entered the classroom behind everyone else. His unfathomable black eyes watched them as they took their seat. Snape waited until all the eyes of the students were focused on him before he spoke.

"Today we will be brewing the Herbicide Potion," he informed them. "The recipe can be found on page 39 of your textbooks." The students dutifully opened the textbooks to the proper page.

"Why might one want to keep the Herbicide Potion on hand?" he asked. Several of the students raised their hands. "And don't says 'weeds'" the Professor added, giving Finley Ancrum, one of the Hufflepuffs, a withering look. A number of the students lowered their hands.

"Miss Bhatt?"

"You can use it to deal with aggressive and predatory plants," Haasa Bhatt, Luna's lab partner answered.

"And why is it so effective against aggressive plants, Miss Bhatt?"

Haasa Bhatt shook her head nervously. "I don't know sir." Several other students raised their hands.

"Miss Harwich?"

"It's effective against dangerous plants because even if the potion fails to touch the plant, the fumes can often weaken or immobilize the plants," Edine Harwich answered. Her friend Sakiko shot her a quick smile, and Edine's expression was smug.

"These fumes, while not fatal to humans, can have damaging effects on your health and mental capacities. Do make sure you use the proper safety precautions today. Some of you-" Professor Snape glanced over at Finley Ancrum, "can't afford to lose any more brain cells."

While Primrose went over to the ingredients cupboard to gather the required material, Romulus cleaned the lab space, and examined the cauldron to assure that it was free of residue. The stirring sticks were given an extra wipe, and he neatly organized their workspace so that they could prepare ingredients and brew efficiently. He placed the cutting tools in straight, neat rows, and placed the mortar and pestle in the corner, out of the way.

Just as Primrose was returning with all the necessary ingredients, Snape swept over to their table, his robes billowing behind him. Primrose placed the ingredients in neat piles on the cutting area and the pair of them looked up at the Professor. Primrose's expression was inquiring, while Romulus kept his face neutral.

"Mr. Lupin," the Professor said in low tones. "You are to sit out this potion today. You may use one of the desks in the back and start your essay on the Strengthening Solution. We shall see how well Miss Potter does without your - aid." Romulus gave him a respectful nod, and then picked up his schoolbag, making his way to the back of the classroom where there were empty seats. While Primrose did not have the same degree of proficiency as he did, he knew that she could brew all the first year potions perfectly.

As Romulus pulled out his parchment and quills, as well as Intermediate Potions and Draughts, he kept an eye on the rest of the class. Primrose seemed to be doing fine on her own. Edine and Sakiko were whispering and shooting looks at Luna. However under the watchful eye of the Professor, they were unwilling to do anything that could get them into trouble. Finley Ancrum seemed to have forgotten one of his safety precautions. There would certainly be an accident before the day was out.

As for Professor Snape, he paced up and down the aisles of the classroom, keeping a close eye on all his students. Despite the air of normalcy, Romulus once again got the impression that he was watching Primrose more than he watched the other students. It was not his first time getting this impression, but the Professor was always so subtle about it that he couldn't be sure. He wasn't certain what the Professor's intent was towards Primrose. The Professor always smelled so strongly of potion ingredients that Romulus could never tell what Snape's mood was based on smell.

As Romulus's quill flew over his page, he kept his senses alert. Whether the Professor meant well or whether he meant harm, Romulus was determined to protect Primrose. No one laid a finger on his pack. Not while he was around.

Potions was their last class of the day and as Romulus predicted, Finley had managed to injure himself and his lab partner. Snape naturally poured a litany in Finley's ear about his complete lack of wits. Erstwhile Finley cowered, with whey-faced terror (and in pain from all the Herbicide potion that had splattered on his arms.)

The rest of the students spilled out of the classroom, relieved that they had escaped Snape's ire. Rosie's potion was, of course perfect, just as Romulus knew it would be.

In the following potions class later in the week, Professor Snape once again had Romulus sitting out, while Primrose worked alone. It seemed that Snape was gradually starting to trust Romulus and his abilities.

Their next class that day was Defense, and the thought of it made a vein in his forehead pulse. He usually just sat at the back of the class, and read a books on jinxes, hexes and curses. It helped to visualize using those hexes on Professor Lockhart.

Lockhart was, at that very moment, having a couple of the students volunteering to help him act out his so-called daring exploits.

"I'm so scared, Professor Lockhart! I just saw a Yeti!" said one of the Hufflepuff girls in a simpering voice, batting her eyelashes at the professor.

"Never fear, dear damsel!" Lockhart proclaimed, pulling out his wand with a dramatic sweep, and then turning to face his audience to continue his narrative.

"While the innocent damsel went back to her village, I climbed the mountain with nothing in hand but my wand and my wits!"

"What about shoes?" Luna asked, in her dreamy voice. "Did you at least have shoes?" Edine and Sakiko rolled their eyes and shot Luna a spiteful glare.

"Er-" said Lockhart. "Yes. And shoes. My wits, my wand, and my shoes. As I was saying, that mountain had killed lesser men, but although the snow pelted at my face, I had the heat of my own righteousness to keep me warm. The abominable Yeti had vanquished all who had come before me."

"And then?" asked one of the admiring students, breathlessly.

"Well, here's the twist," Lockhart said in a conspiratory voice. "Those who crossed the Yeti's path all saw him as an enemy. But not I! I, and I alone looked into that great beast's eyes, and I saw it's heart. It was lonely! I sat the great beast down to tea, and set him straight. I told him that if he wanted to make friends, he needed to be charming. Like me!" Lockhart flashed his blinding white teeth. "And now, he's got a village full of friends. Children ride on his back, like a pony!"

"That's so moving!" Eleanor Wynch, the plump auburn Hufflepuff exclaimed. Romulus cringed.

"The lesson here is, never underestimate the power of a winning smile!" Lockhart flashed his teeth once again, and several of the students clapped and cheered. Romulus was horrified. His only consolation was that at least Primrose looked just as dismayed as he felt.

When Defense had ended (finally! Romulus thought he'd pull out his hair if he had to listen to Lockhart for another second), the Ravenclaws made their way downstairs, through the corridors and out to the greenhouse for Herbology. As they walked along the corridors, Romulus caught an odd scent. He looked over and there were a group of Slytherin students, wearing matching smirks on their faces. He watched them curiously. The smell seemed to have a odd signature that he didn't recognize. Whatever it was, he had the impression that it was magical.

The Slytherins seemed to be led by a blond boy, and as they strolled along the corridor, the blond's shoulder smacked into another student.

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood," the blond snapped at the bewildered student. Romulus watched the exchange impassively. It had been obvious that the blond had deliberately slammed into the other student. And oddly enough, the frightened student, who stammered an apology, and was scampering away now seemed to have a trace of that strange scent. Romulus looked over at the Slytherin's consideringly. He didn't know what was happening, but something was afoot.

Over the coming days, Romulus's instincts proved the be correct. He could not tell if the smell was benign or if it was dangerous, but whatever it was, more and more students seemed to be marked by it. He couldn't detect a clear pattern, but he noticed that most Gryffindors bore the scent, while most Slytherins didn't. There were a scattering of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who carried the odd scent as well. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. He made a concentrated effort to avoid the Slytherins who seemed to be doing the "marking." A low growl escaped his throat. He would ever let anyone mark him, if he could help it.