The following day Romulus once again skipped breakfast in the Great Hall, and decided to go down to the kitchens instead. He did not have much of an appetite, but he still forced himself to eat. His wolf-instincts told him that food was strength, and he needed all the strength he could get. His first class of the day was Charms. The classroom was on the third floor, and he met Luna and Primrose on the stairs there.

"You look terrible," Luna said lightly from his right side. "Is it maestusors?" Upon seeing Romulus's bewildered expression, she explained. "They're parasitic creatures that tend to dwell where dementors have been, and try and suck up leftover happiness."

"Erm - I didn't see any," Romulus replied, shooting a glance at Primrose who was on his left.

Primrose was scanning his face. "She's right. You do look terrible. What happened yesterday? Luna said you were going down to the dungeons and then we didn't see you for the rest of the day."

Romulus pursed his lips. It was tempting to point out that Primrose wouldn't have seen him either way, since she spent all her time with Harry. Instead, he just shrugged. Primrose and Luna's eyes met and then they looked back at Romulus.

"You were in the Prophet again today," Primrose informed him in a subdued voice. "Not the first page though - don't worry." Romulus looked at her, waiting for her explanation. It made him feel a bit tainted, to know that others were writing about him without his permission.

"The article mentioned - uh - that you have to wear a neckband that tracks all your movements. And it doesn't allow you act aggressively, or something like that. And then a bunch of stupid stuff about safety at Hogwarts," Primrose continued. Romulus frowned. It wasn't strictly true - he was able to act aggressively. But the article made him sound like a declawed cat. Which meant that everyone would see him as harmless.

"I can kind of see it -" Luna said. "It's short of a shimmer around his neck. A disillusionment, maybe?" Romulus's frown deepened. He didn't want people examining his neck. Luna seemed to sense his unhappiness.

"Don't worry, it's barely visible. And people's heads are so full of wrackspurts that they probably won't see anything at all," Luna reassured him airily. Romulus sighed. This was all the headmaster's fault. In that moment, Romulus realized that he had never hated anyone quite as much as he hated Professor Mole.

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

It was the end of March. Mathilda sat with Luthais on one side, and Primrose on the other in thier History of Magic class. Harper Harris was sitting on Luthais's other side. Now that they had a new history professor, there was significantly less whispered conversations. The Professor's name was Haralda Humberston. She was a tall and stately woman, with steel grey hair, and rectangular glasses. Her voice was low, but melodic. That said, Professor Humberston didn't have the talent for bringing history to life. She was a step up from Professor Binns, but anyone would have been a step up from Professor Binns. She might have a droning monotone voice, but Professor Humberston tended to focus too much on little details. The history became lost in the minutia.

Mathilda peeked a glance at Primrose. Her friend saw her looking and smiled before looking back to the front of the class. Mathilda bit the bottom of her lip. She wanted to ask Primrose about her brother Harry. She had been wanting to for a while, but she was never sure of how to broach the topic. Though Primrose had tried to dissuade them from believing that Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin, there was still something about him. And with the new Professor, it was harder than ever to talk.

The Slytherins couldn't fail to notice the way that the other students were drawn to Harry Potter. Many of them tried to feign disdain or indifference. But like Mathilda, they wanted to know more about him. He was a parselmouth. He had survived the killing curse. He was a hero. But despite all that, he didn't feel like a paragon of Light. He might act that way on the surface. Yet something about Harry Potter came across as almost Slytherin-like. Perhaps Draco's words had influenced the other Slytherins. Draco might only be a second year, but his family was rich, influential and powerful.

Draco held the unshakable belief that Harry Potter was a Snake in Lion's clothing. He was so confident about it that it was hard not to believe him. But why was he so sure? No one ever saw the two of them together. As far as Mathilda was aware, the two had never traded anything more than insults in class. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Draco threw insults, and Harry never responded, if rumours were to be believed. Regardless of all that, people also had a tendency to convince themselves of things they wanted to be true. Most Slytherins wanted to believe the Heir of Slytherin was back. Most Slytherins were sick of being one House against three. Most Slytherins noticed that when Professor Dumbledore was suspended, Harry Potter didn't speak a word in the Headmaster's defence.

It was remarkable to think of how much things had changed. Dumbledore, the leader of the Light was gone. Professor Binns was gone. Professor Lockhart was gone (which was a shame - he had such a charming smile). Harry Potter seemed like the most popular boy in school. True, as a celebrity, people were inclined to like him. However, most of the older students had said that he had been quiet and unassuming last year. Could a person really come of their shell so much in one year? If it could happen to Harry, maybe it could happen to her. Mathilda fell into a daydream about being the most charming girl in school. She ended up tuning out over ten minutes of Professor Humberston's lecture. The Professor was describing how the nuances of Gobbledegook had affected the outcome of of peace negotiations during the Goblin rebellions.

Finally, classes were done. The students stuffed their textbooks, quills and parchment in their schoolbags. They were stiff and aching when they stood up. The hard wooden seats were not meant for comfort.

"What are your plans for later, Primrose?" Mathilda asked the Ravenclaw girl.

"Hm? Well, I have to finish a paper for Defence. I can't make heads or tails of what Professor Greystone says, most of the time," Primrose told her, scrunching up her face.

"Well, when a person signs up to be an auror, I don't think they do so with the intent of teaching," Luthais said wryly.

"I suppose not," Primrose replied with a crooked smile. "Maybe I can ask Harry about it. It's his strongest subject."

"You've been spending a lot of time with Harry lately," Mathilda said thoughtfully.

"Heroic Harry, the parselmouth," Luthais murmured, ironically.

"I explained the parselmouth thing," Primrose said with a touch of impatience. "And you three know that I'm also a parselmouth. It's really not a big deal. You know, are always welcome to join us. Harry's really nice."

"At the Gryffindor Table? Are you kidding?" Harper asked. "Even if we wanted to, the other Slytherins would probably skin us alive if we sat over there."

"We don't alway sit at Gryffindor Table. Sometimes we sit at Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw," Primrose said defensively.

"Hm. Well, I think we should consider it," Mathilda replied, looking pointedly at Luthais and Harper. "People are always talking about him. It'd be interesting to know the real Harry Potter."

Luthais raised an elegant eyebrow at Mathilda. "Lions are safer from a distance, don't you think?"

Mathilda smirked. "So are snakes."

"Touché," Luthais replied. He turned to look at Primrose. "We'll consider it. Another day perhaps."

Primrose grinned. "I hope so. Well, I'll see you three later!" She waved and joined Luna and the werewolf-boy.

Like the rest of the Slytherins, Mathilda had been shocked to discover that there was a werewolf in the school. It was even more of a shock when they found it it was Primrose's friend. What was his name again? Romulus, or something. The boy was so quiet. Now that she thought about it, that quietness could be construed as creepiness. He was just so silent. It was weird. When Professor Mole had first made the announcement, the Slytherin house had been up in arms. It seemed horrifying that a halfbreed creature could be at the school. It put everyone at risk. The Slytherins were convinced that Professor Snape would be on their side. To their shock and surprise, he had admonished them for their preconceptions.

"If the werewolf were a risk to the other students, then the danger would have already made itself known. The fact that no one was aware just goes to show that the situation is well contained," their Head of House had said, with his disdainful drawl. No one had expected those words from Professor Snape. There was more than one student who had felt bitter about it. When Romulus's identity was revealed, it made much more sense. Everyone knew that Professor Snape had taken a Ravenclaw first year under his wing. The fact that Professor Snape's little protege was Romulus suggested that the Head of House was rather biased.

This issue was contentious enough that Professor Snape could have very well had a mutiny on his hands. However, their Head of House was able to assert his dominance with his sharp tongue and commanding presence. No one dared to argue with that rapier sharp wit. With a few words, Professor Snape could easily leave the students in tears.

Besides that, the fact that Primrose hadn't abandoned her friendship with Romulus suggested that maybe, the boy wasn't that bad. Primrose was a clever girl. She couldn't make that much of a lapse of judgement, could she? All the same, Mathilda had no desire to get to know the werewolf-boy. And Romulus acted just as satisfied to ignore the rest of the world. The whole matter did make interesting gossip though. For the past couple of weeks, it was all anyone wanted to talk about.

Mathilda and her friends made their way down to the Slytherin common room. Like Primrose, they too had to finish the Defence paper. Professor Greystone was such a bad teacher that half the students weren't even sure what their essays were supposed to be about. It was a topic of heavy debate, which left the first years afraid to even start, lest they waste their time. Mathilda sighed, and wished they could have Professor Lockhart back. She liked his class skits, and his sparkling eyes, and shiny hair.

The Defence essay turned out to be a headache to write. By the time she was done, she had silently cursed Professor Greystone with every hex and jinx she could think of. Evening had descended, and the lake water outside the windows was a murky blackish green. Done with their homework, Luthais and Harper had gotten into a conversation about Quidditch. Mathilda didn't mind watching Quidditch games, but she drew the line at talking about it. She was giving her essay a final read over. Although it frustrated her, she felt she had done enough. Now, she just needed to find a way to relax. Mathilda wasn't close to Astrid and her friends at all. Though Astrid had been in a better mood as of late, because she was worming her way back into Draco's good graces. Perhaps she could listen in on Pansy Parkinson's conversation. Pansy was a gossip queen, and always knew the most interesting stories. As for Draco, he was nowhere in sight.

Mathilda neatly folded up her essay, and put it in her bookbag. However, she noticed the blue spine of a library book that she forgot to return.

"Oh Merlin," she huffed in annoyance. Luthais and Harper looked at her with inquiring expressions.

"I forgot to return this library book," she explained. "It's still half an hour before it closes. I better go."

"Would you like me to come with you?" Luthais asked politely. She always appreciated his good breeding and excellent manners.

"Thank you but no. I'll be alright," Mathilda replied, smiling. Luthais nodded. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Mathilda left the common room. She made it to the library with plenty of time to spare. Feeling like she had spent too much of the day sitting, Mathilda decided to take a detour back to the Slytherin common room. Walking was good for the constitution after all. Besides, if she took a long walk, then perhaps by the time she returned to the common room, Luthais and Harper would be done talking about Quidditch.

She was climbing the Great Staircase, when a shift in the stairs led her to a corridor that she had never walked down before. Rather than portraits on the walls, there seemed to be a long line of mirrors. They were of all shapes and sizes. Some had simple frames, and others had ornate, extravagant frames. Most showed her normal reflection. One showed her with pink hair (the colour clashed terribly with her skin tone). Another showed what she would look like as a boy. That was a bit strange. And one made her look really old. She hoped that she wouldn't actually be that wrinkly when she was old. She could see no one else in this corridor, but up ahead, she heard a soft susurrus. Was it the ghosts? Perhaps a pair of lovers?

Mathilda knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but something about the situation made her daring. Luthais and Harper weren't here to censure her for unladylike behaviour. It was not yet curfew, so she wouldn't get in trouble for being out at this time of night. It wasn't the full moon, so she didn't have to fear a werewolf attack. And more than that, she was curious. If there was any danger, she would just run. As a Slytherin, she had a healthy sense of self-preservation. Fortunately for Mathilda, this particular corridor was lined with a rich, opulent rug, which muffled her footsteps.

She crept forward, and peeked around the bend up ahead. The corridor was lit by torches, but the flames did not flicker at all. Mathilda preferred it this way - flickering torches created strange shadows. The things that hid in shadows could be frightening. She was both astonished, and yet unsurprised by what she saw. It was the white-blond Draco speaking to the black-haired Harry Potter. Draco's expression was very intent. Harry's head was tilted, as he listened to whatever Draco was saying. Mathilda wished she could hear their conversation. There was no way she could get any closer.

Mathilda almost jumped out of her skin when a voice called out: "There's no sense hiding. I know you're there." It wasn't Draco's voice, so it must be Harry. Mathilda was fixed to the spot. Some part of her screamed at her to run. But the voice that called out hadn't sounded threatening. Not that that meant anything. Her heart was beating frantically, like a little bird had trapped itself in her ribcage. 'I should run,' she thought. 'I really should run.'

"Don't worry. We won't hurt you," Harry called out. He sounded amused. Woodenly, Mathilda stepped out forward. She felt the weight of Draco's and Harry's eyes on her. Draco was scowling. Harry's eyelids were at half mast, and he wore a lazy smile. He had leaned his weight against the wall, and his arms were crossed in a relaxed manner.

"What are you doing here?" Draco hissed.

"I - I -" Mathilda stammered. She had never felt so inelegant in her life.

"Don't frighten her, Draco," Harry drawled, rolling his eyes, before looking back at Mathilda. "What's your name?"

"Mathilda. Mathilda Travers."

Harry hummed, and the edge of his lips tilted upwards. "An old pureblood family. Lineage almost as old as the time of Merlin." Harry's words caused a swell of pride in Mathilda's chest, and she felt a bit less afraid.

"Yes," she replied. She tilted her head with practiced grace at Harry. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter."

Harry laughed, showing straight white teeth. It made him look very boyish. "Just Harry is fine, Mathilda. Were you going for a walk?" Mathilda nodded.

"See, Draco?" Harry looked over at Draco, with his lazy smile. "No harm done. She won't tell." Harry his head back to Mathilda. "Will you?"

"Tell what?" Mathilda asked, confused.

"You won't mention anything you saw here," Draco hissed with annoyance. "None of it. I wasn't here. Harry wasn't here. Mention nothing. Especially if you want to survive Slytherin." It was a clear threat. Mathilda nodded, feeling her nervousness returning.

"Oh Draco," Harry sighed. He smiled warmly at Mathilda. "Don't mind him. You won't tell will you? We can trust you, can't we?" His viridescent eyes were beautiful, like shining emeralds. Mathilda never realized how beautiful his eyes were before. She felt breathless.

"Of course I would never tell! I swear it!" she exclaimed. Harry's smile grew even warmer, and Mathilda's heart fluttered. He had an even nicer smile than Professor Lockhart.

"I'm glad to hear it, Mathilda," Harry said. His voice sounded like rich nectar as he spoke her name. He turned his head back to Draco. "See? We can trust her." The praise made Mathilda flush with pleasure. She longed to be worthy of Harry's trust.

Draco huffed with irritation and crossed his arms. "Whatever. Just go."

"See you later, Mathilda," Harry said warmly. Mathilda's cheeks felt even hotter.

"Nice to meet you Harry. Bye!" Mathilda replied, feeling a bit bashful. As Mathilda rushed off, she felt a golden, effervescent joy in her heart. Harry was so nice! She couldn't believe it. Of course, she had seen him being nice to others, but it was different when he was nice to her. It was interesting that he had been talking to Draco. Could there be truth to the rumours that he was the Heir of Slytherin? In that moment, she wished that it was true. If Harry was the Heir of Slytherin, then the Snakes could have him all to themselves. And wouldn't that be nice?

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

The full moon fell on the sixth of April. In the days before the full moon, Romulus was filled with a profound sense of dread. It didn't help that at lunch and supper in the Great Hall, Professor Mole watched him with a cold and clinical sort of interest. The headmaster wanted him to fail. He wanted Romulus to falter, and admit defeat. Professor Mole rarely ever smiled. But sometime Romulus felt like the headmaster was smiling at him, not with gladness, but with pure malice. Perhaps it was all just a fanciful notion in his head. Still, he couldn't escape the feeling.

Ever since the day the collar had been placed around his neck, Romulus had stopped going to the Come and Go Room. He knew that the headmaster wouldn't approve of his activities there. Perhaps he wouldn't have felt so bad if Primrose had been willing to commiserate with him. However, she had shrugged it off with a cheerful smile, and said: "Well, we've learned plenty already. It's not like we're behind in Defence." And that was that.

With so many eyes on him, he was forced to take the wolfsbane potion, rather than sending it to Remus like he usually did. Of course, due to the newspaper articles, Remus knew what was going on. However, Romulus downplayed the situation so that Remus would not worry excessively. Remus didn't know that he was being forced to spend his full moons in a prison cell. Neither did Romulus mention his suspicions that the headmaster seemed to be making it his personal mission to make Romulus's life as uncomfortable as possible. Not only did Romulus keep Remus in the dark about the cell in the dungeons, but he did not tell Primrose or Luna either. He knew that both of them would be sympathetic. But at the same time, the situation was too humiliating to bring to light. He just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

Romulus had never much cared for the effects of wolfsbane potion. But knowing he was to be locked in a cell, he knew his human mind would handle it better than his wolf mind. His wolf mind would tear himself apart in such circumstances. He met up with Professor Snape in the early evening at his office. At least Romulus was able to trust Professor Snape, to some degree. If it had been the headmaster walking him to his prison cell, it would have pushed him over the edge.

Professor Snape looked almost grim as Romulus felt. Of course, one could say that grim was Professor Snape's usual look. But somehow, he managed to look even grimmer than usual. The Professor had given Romulus a look over when he first knocked on the door. Snape had given a minute nod, as though to say 'You look ready for this.' Romulus supposed he was as ready as he would ever be. He wasn't frightened by the situation - true, it was claustrophobic and humiliating. But while he was locked in the cell, the greatest danger posed was the danger to himself.

He and Professor Snape were silent as they descended down to the cells. Along the way, the ghost of the Bloody Baron floated by, covered in blood and bearing his heavy chains. The ghost gave Professor Snape a look of mild surprise. This area of the dungeon was rarely traversed. There were several spells along these corridors to deter wayward students, so that they would not venture forward. However, the Baron lost interested, and floated away through the wall.

When the reached the dank cells, Romulus once again felt that sick twist in his gut. But he forced himself forward into the small dark room.

"You'll be alright," Professor Snape said, sounding oddly emotionless. Romulus couldn't tell if he was trying to be reassuring, or just making a statement. Romulus nodded, his blue eyes filled with resolve. As Professor Snape closed the door and locked it, the sound seemed to echo through the dungeons. Romulus listened to the Professor's footsteps as he walked away. Eventually, all the he could hear was the sound of his shallow breaths, and the beating of his heart in his ears.

That night, his transformation felt more painful than usual. He knew it was in his head. In normal circumstances, the pain of the transformation was the price he paid for being able to run free, and forget his worries. This month (and the ones to come), there was no freedom. There was no escape. There was only pain - the physical pain of his muscles, skin and bones shift, as well as the psychological and emotional pain of the situation itself. With the wolfsbane potion in him, he couldn't escape his human mind. He knew that if his wolf mind took over, he'd attack and rend his own flesh. Still - the idea was almost tempting. They way he felt now, he'd been awake all night, letting doubts and possibly regrets swirl around his head.

By the time morning arrived, Romulus was lying on the damp stone floor of the cell, trembling. His head pulsed with a piercing headache that felt like an icepick through his brain. His throat felt like it had been rubbed raw with sand. He barely registered the sound of the key unlocking the door, and when Professor Snape opened the cell, Romulus didn't even look up at him.

He knew Professor Snape was saying something to him - calling his name perhaps. But the words didn't seem to register. All he wanted was for the headache to go away, and for his body to stop shaking. He coiled up, pulling his legs into his body. The buzzing sound that the Professor was making stopped, and the next thing he knew, he felt arms reaching under him, and picking him up. He groaned and squeezes his eyes shut. Now, on top of the headache was an intense and sickening nausea.

Romulus kept his eyes shut. He had a feeling that if he opened them, he'd sick up all over Professor Snape's robes. If he had had full control of his faculties, he would have been mortified at his situation. Being carried by the Professor like some baby was not the sort of thing that an eleven year old boy would take pride in. After what seemed like a lifetime, the motion stopped. He fluttered his eyes open for a moment. But the brightness of the light stabbed at his eyes, and he squeezed them shut once again.

He heard a female voice saying something, and then his mouth was being opened, while something bitter was poured down his throat. He recognized the potion by taste alone, and so he wasn't surprised to feel his pain fade away. The feeling was so wonderful, that he wanted to fling his arms around the nearest person, and kiss their robes. Upon opening his eyes, he saw that that person was Madam Pomfrey. He was sitting on one of the beds in the infirmary. He looked around, but Professor Snape was nowhere in sight. It was almost tempting to believe that the Professor hadn't actually been there. If that were so, then at least he could keep his dignity.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Lupin?" Madam Pomfrey asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"Better," he admitted. He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt as wobbly as a baby fawn's. With a sigh, he flopped back down.

"You won't be going anywhere today, Mr. Lupin," the matron said briskly. "I'll have the house elves bring you some food. You'll need to get your strength back up." Romulus nodded in assent. Now that the nausea was gone, he felt ravenous. He was given a big breakfast, with a mound of eggs, sausages, bacon and toast. But even after clearing everything on the plate, he still felt hungry. However, his exhaustion overpowered his hunger, and he was soon asleep.

He woke in the early evening, his stomach gnawing with aggressive hunger. By his bed stood Primrose, setting down a stack of parchment. She looked startled, and he wondered how long she had been there.

"Oh! You're awake!" she exclaimed. She didn't exactly look happy about that - her eyes kept slipping towards the door. Still, she made an effort to paste a smile on her face. "I brought you my notes from the classes you missed. Professor McGonagall also assigned twelve inches on any subject we've covered in this year, but it has to be written entirely in the transfiguration alphabet." She gestured towards the parchment. Romulus had mixed feelings about seeing Primrose. He was glad that she had made an effort to come. But her company had been very sporadic in the past week. It had hurt, that she preferred Harry's presence so much more, magic or no magic. Yes, he was her brother, but that meant that she'd see him every holiday and she'd be close to him for the rest of her life. Sometimes, it felt like she didn't value their friendship at all. Not wanting to experience the emotional pain he had tried shoving his feelings aside. He argued with himself that it didn't matter. Luna was still a good friend (and in truth, she was). But suppressing his feelings didn't meant that they went away. It just meant that they simmered, unseen, beneath the surface.

"Thank you," he said with tired politeness. His stomach clenched angrily, wanting food. It did little to help with his mood. He looked from the notes on the table to his friend's face.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her tone cautious.

"I'm - okay. Tired," he admitted. Primrose's expression softened for a brief moment, but then, her eyes slid towards the doors again. After the ordeal he had undergone, it was maddening that his friend couldn't even keep her attention on him. The combination of exhaustion, hunger and vulnerability caused him to lose his grip on his feelings. It had been long coming.

"Merlin's beard, Primrose! Is Harry that much more important than me?" he snapped, blue eyes flashing with irritation. Primrose's eyes widened in surprise. "No need to act so shocked. You think I don't notice the way you keep looking towards the doors, waiting for the right moment to get away? Nevermind that I was just locked in a dungeon cell all night. All that matters to you is your bloody precious brother. What happened to figuring out his curse or his possession?"

Primrose gaped, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Excuse me?" Her voice sounded more weak than indignant.

"You heard me," he snarled. The wolf in him had roused, and it was itching for a fight. It hadn't liked being muzzled by the effects of the wolfsbane. "You were the one who brought it up. The curse. Or have you forgotten already?"

"I - I -" Primrose stammered. "You can't always get rid curses. And Harry doesn't seem to be negatively affected." Her defences sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"Oh? So you trust how things appear on the surface? You'd rather stick your head in the sand, than face difficult truths?" Romulus sneered, unsympathetic to Primrose's dumbfoundment. "Is that what love is? Pretending that bad things don't exist? Letting your brother get eaten up by Darkness? And of course, tossing me aside in the meantime."

"I'm not - I -" Primrose's hands were tightened into fists. She looked like a cornered puppy, wanting to snap and bite, but having no real defences. She was shaking her head. "I wouldn't - No! I wouldn't let Harry get eaten by Darkness. I wouldn't throw you away."

"But you are!" Romulus exclaimed, and his anger made him feel like he was roaring. Yet, despite his hot, pounding fury, Madam Pomfrey had not come out of her office to disrupt his confrontation.

"You are throwing me a way! Harry's already eaten by the Darkness! I read that book that you mentioned. The longer you leave curses or possessions, the worse they get. Is that something you conveniently decided to forget?" Romulus continued. His hands dug into the mattress. What he really wanted to do was to leap about of bed and shake some sense into Primrose. Shake her until her teeth clattered in her dense little head.

Primrose was still shaking her head. Her eyes were shining with tears - she looked trapped and horrified. "No - No - not Harry. No!"

"You have to distance yourself, Primrose! You've lost all perspective! How can you do anything to help Harry when you won't even face the problem?"

Primrose trembled. "I - Harry - he -" Her breathing was ragged. She squeezed her eyes shut, and tears trailed down her cheeks. "I can't! Please, I can't. He's Harry. He's my brother. I can't take it when he pushes me away." Her knuckles were white as she gripped the side of her robes. "I just can't!" Her words were broken off by sobbing breaths. Her limbs felt as though they could no longer support her, and she sunk down on her knees, sitting down on her heels.

She felt raw and frightened. "I can't lose him. I don't want to lose him. Not Harry." Her words were little more than whimpers.

"Primrose," Romulus said, his voice low and calmer. "I know you want to help you brother. But what you're doing now isn't helping. You know that don't you?"

Primrose shook her head. Romulus bit his lower lip, holding back a huff of annoyance. He tried again. "There's things that can be done. I'm sure the professors would be willing to help too - you're not alone. I'll help you. Luna will help you too."

Primrose kept shaking your head. "You don't understand," she said. Her voice was so quiet that he had to lean forward to hear her. "There's only blackness now. There's only ever blackness." Tears flowed freely from her hazel-green eyes. She pursed her lips, and gripped her robes, which were now wrinkled and disarrayed.

"You still have to try," Romulus said, a hint of urgency slipping into his tone. "You can't give up. Luna's still doing research on runes. I'm willing to make up whatever potion you need. And Professor Snape might help too."

"Professor Snape?" Primrose raised her head, and looked up at Romulus, her reddish eyes wide.

"Er - we had a conversation. About Harry," Romulus admitted. Primrose's eyes narrowed.

"You spoke about my brother to Professor Snape." Her voice had gone from tremulous to flat. From Primrose's expression, Romulus had a feeling that he had somehow misstepped.

"He's can help," Romulus told her, hoping to sound reassuring. Primrose was climbing back up on her feet.

"Professor Snape hates my brother," Primrose said, her voice still colourless. "And now that I think about it, I think you might hate my brother too." She was backing away from him, with slow steps.

"Primrose - I - It doesn't matter what I feel for Harry. I care about you," he said, wanting to draw her back in. It scared him to be so open with his feelings. But it scared him more to feel like he was losing his packmate. Seeing her edging away made his chest ache. But despite her swollen eyes, and tear-stained face, there was a resolute expression her her eyes.

"You never gave him a chance. Harry's my family. Don't ask me to choose between you, because you won't like the answer," Primrose said, with a chilled edge in her voice.

"I'm not - I'm not saying you have to give up your brother. Just take a step back - We can work together to help him."

"How could I have been so blind?" Primrose said. She didn't seem to have heard him at all. She was looking towards the far wall, and her swollen eyes were now flashing with anger.

"Primrose?"

She turned her head back to look at him. "I shouldn't have come here," she said, emotionlessly. She turned, and walked towards the exit of the infirmary. He called her back, but she paid him no heed. Then then, she was gone, and he felt like he was falling into a deep dark abyss of pain.

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Rosie was sitting in the comfortable compartment of the Hogwarts Express. School had been let out for Easter break, and she and Harry were heading back to London to see Sirius. In the compartment with them was Hermione, Neville and Ginny. Ginny was, of course, sitting next to Harry. She was as possessive of him as ever, but she had relaxed towards Rosie. Ginny's jealousy of Harry would have made her unbearable to be around, and Rosie was glad that the girl was no longer quite so fanatical. Well, in truth, she was still crazy about Harry, but she wasn't as crazy about keeping people away from Harry. Sometimes, Ginny would still shoot her looks through slitted eyes, but then the girl would look a way, and Rosie would shrug it off.

Hermione and Harry were deep in a conversation about their school work. Despite all his new friends, Harry was still just as diligent as ever about maintaining his high grades. As for Rosie, she felt distracted. Ever since her conversation with Romulus in the infirmary, she had felt conflicted and confused. She had avoided Romulus which was easy enough to do. After all, he had his own private rooms, and she never saw him in the Ravenclaw Nest anymore. In classes, she sat with Luna, or with other students. And in the Great Hall during meals, Luna was usually wedged between them. But just because she managed to avoid talking to Romulus, it didn't mean that his words had been forgotten. Rosie had been unable to regain her equilibrium since that day.

That night after seeing Romulus in the infirmary, she had gone back to her dorm room. She didn't think that she could face Harry and his friends. She felt to raw and too confused by everything. She was also simmering with anger towards Romulus. No one was in the dorm at the time, and she pulled the bed hangings closed. She wanted to be left alone. The next day, she had been determined to act like everything was normal. She didn't think she was doing a bad job of it, but Luna had noticed that she wasn't herself. When they had joined Harry and his friends (at this Hufflepuff table, this time), Luna could perceive Rosie's nervousness around Harry.

"Just don't look him in the eye," Luna murmured serenely. "You'll be okay." For some reason, those words made the situation so much worse. Luna, who had always seemed like her ally seemed to validate Romulus's dark words. She had bit her lip, feeling like she was going to cry. She thought that she would choke on thick lump that had risen in her throat. But after a few deep, deliberate breaths, she managed to calm down. And for whatever reason, she had listened to Luna. She spent just as much time with Harry as ever in the week before Easter break, but made sure not to look him straight in the eyes.

Rosie couldn't help feeling treacherous. Only, she didn't know who she had betrayed. Harry? Romulus? Herself? She found herself feeling glad that Harry had so many friends. It kept him distracted, which meant that he couldn't ask her uncomfortable questions. If Harry had started questioning her about her behaviour, she wouldn't have known what to say. And now it was Easter Break, and she'd be spending over a week with him. Maybe she could just spend that time hiding away in her room with a book. That wouldn't be so bad, right? She could get a head start on her homework - maybe read a few chapters ahead in her textbooks and try and teach herself.

At some point in time, Rosie fell asleep. She was shaken awake but Hermione's hand on her shoulder.

"Rosie - wake up," Hermione said. "We're at King's Cross Station." Rosie sat up, and looked out the window, startled. She'd be seeing Sirius soon. Even if she couldn't pour her heart out to him, she still felt eager to see him. He might not take away her troubles, but Padfoot could always make her laugh. She was already bounding off the train, searching the crowd for Sirius's dark wavy hair. However, she stopped short when she saw Sirius standing next to Remus. Romulus was next to his adopted father, and as Rosie drew near, he flicked her a quick glance before looking down at the ground.

Sirius was walking toward her and Harry, hugging them both, but Rosie was as stiff as a plank. She should have expected Remus and Romulus. Sirius spent so much time talking about the projects that he and Remus worked on together. But somehow, this pertinent fact had been misplaced in her memory. Sirius was tousling the hair on their heads and talking cheerful to Harry. Rosie didn't hear a word he said.

She let herself get pulled along with the group, but she refused to look towards Romulus. Her feelings towards him were too confusing. Anger, guilt, perplexity, and then more guilt. She didn't want to believe that she had wronged him, but she kept feeling like she had. They ended up going somewhere for dinner, and Rosie spent most of the evening pushing food around on her plate. As a result, she didn't notice the looks she was getting from Remus as his eyes darted between her and Romulus.

Rosie thought that once supper was over, she could at least get some space from Romulus. But to her dismay, the group of them ended up apparating back to Grimmauld Place together. Rosie thought that Sirius would explain, but he said nothing about it. He just chattered away in his cheerful manner to Harry and Remus. Eventually, Rosie broke down and asked (in a hopefully inconspicuous way) about Remus's presence.

"We're in the middle of a new project. The charms are still a bit sensitive and unstable so far," Sirius had explained with a grin. He acted like it was perfectly normal to just have Remus staying with him. Sirius had mentioned that Remus often stayed over at Grimmauld Place in their mirror calls. But it didn't occur to Rosie that Remus would be here while she and Harry were visiting. And with Remus here, it meant Romulus was here as well.

Half feigning exhaustion, she trudged up to her room and threw herself on her bed. Easter break was supposed to be a holiday, but she got the feeling that she wouldn't be relaxing. Before long, she fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares. She couldn't remember them when she woke, but she thought they might have been about Harry. He was all she could think about, when she opened her eyes and stared blearily at the wallpaper.

The following day was about as awkward as one could expect. She was making an effort not to look Harry and the eyes, and trying not to speak to Romulus at all beyond cool pleasantries. On top of that, Remus kept shooting her speculative glances. He looked like he wanted to pull her aside and speak to her. All that meant was that she had to make an awkward effort to avoid him as well. She was able to do this by pretending to be very engrossed in her homework. But at the same time, she had to pretend to not be too engrossed. Otherwise, that would be inviting offers for help. By the end of the day, she was drained. Her sleep remained broken and restless.

"Rosie!" Harry called out to her. Rosie jolted awake. The heavy blackness of late night hung around her. Darkness seemed to like Grimmauld Place. Was Harry having a nightmare, she wondered. She thought she felt something. But as she examined her link with Harry, all there was was the now-constant blackness. She got the vague sense that he was in trouble. A feeling of drowning, or of being lost - she wasn't sure. Perhaps just a nightmare. She couldn't sense anything from him now. With a sigh, she settled herself back down under the covers, and was soon back asleep.

The following day was a little easier than the first - probably because Sirius had wanted to play a pick-up game of Quidditch. He had managed to wrangle Harry, Remus and even Romulus into joining him. Rosie had never seen Romulus go to a Quidditch game at school. She wondered if he even knew the rules. Of course, she declined to join them. It was already enough of an ordeal to have to watch Quidditch. She didn't want to have to play it too. Besides, with all the boys playing, they had an even number of players.

Since she was spending so much time at her books, she got her homework done far too fast. Luckily, the boys had worn themselves out from their game, and were happy to spend the rest of the evening talking Quidditch. The night was a repeat of the one before. She woke up, thinking Harry was hurt or in danger, but then the feeling would fade. In a bewildered daze, she'd lie back down and fall back asleep.

She couldn't avoid everyone for the entire break. Remus eventually cornered her, determined to talk.

"Rosie," he said, with his warm smile and gentle voice. She had been in the parlour, reading one of the old books from the Black family collection. She looked up from her book, and froze in place. Silently, she cursed herself. Her parchment and quills had been put back in her bookbag. If she had them on hand, she could have pretended to be taking notes and doing homework. As it was, she looked like she was just enjoying a casual read.

"Hi Remus," she replied, forcing her lips into a smile. She thought he might ask something like: 'Am I interrupting anything?' She would have been able to claim to be occupied. But he didn't ask.

"How are you, cub? You haven't been writing as regularly. Sorry - I don't mean to make you feel guilty. I remember how busy it could get at Hogwarts." His smile was so understanding. Rosie felt like she was worth less than a flobberworm. His kindness had sparked her guilt, and she wanted to disappear into the floor.

"I'm doing okay," Rosie replied weakly. "I'm sorry - I'll try and write you more."

"Oh cub, you don't have to. I don't expect it. As long as you, Harry and Rom are happy, I couldn't ask for more."

The guilt intensified. Trying to fake-smile felt painful. It took her far too much effort to stay in her seat, rather than climbing off, and begging Remus's forgiveness.

"So - you don't have to talk about this if you're uncomfortable -" Remus started. His words caused her sense of dread to magnify. "I notice you and Rom haven't really been speaking. Is everything okay?"

Oh Merlin. What was she supposed to say to that? She wished she had thought of some kind of excuse earlier. She had days to think about this. "Erm - well - I -"

"Are you uncomfortable with him being a werewolf?" Remus asked. His eyes looked so sad as he spoke. Rosie wanted to die.

"No! Of course not! That doesn't bother me at all. Truly!"

Remus smiled with relief. "I'm glad to hear that. I didn't think you were the sort who would - well - anyway. I just couldn't understand why you and Rom weren't talking. But if it's personal, then I understand. I just hope that you two can work things out. Rom seems to really like you. When he was younger, he never felt the urge to be around people his own age. It used to worry me. I hoped that at Hogwarts, he'd find friends and open up a bit."

Rosie still felt lost for words. "It's - things are complicated." She didn't know how else to describe it. How could she put the deep tangle of conflict that she felt in her heart into words?

"It's alright, cub. Things will sort themselves out. If you want to talk, you know that I'll always be there to listen, don't you?"

Rosie nodded. "Thanks. I - um - appreciate it. Really." Remus beamed in reply. Rosie hated herself.

Over Christmas break, Rosie had been upset every time that Harry had left to go visit his friends, but this time, she felt only relief. She thought about writing to Luna, but she had no idea what to say to her friend. Whether Harry was around or not, everything seemed to be about him. And nothing about that situation had clarified. What made it worse were her nightmares. Each night, they seemed to sharpen a little more. She kept thinking Harry was in trouble. But so long as the link between them was blacked out, she couldn't be sure. Furthermore, he seemed as cheerful as ever, every morning. She had even asked him one day whether he was still having nightmares. He had grinned and shook his head, telling her he slept as peacefully as an overfed kneazle.

Before long, Easter break was almost over. At some point, she had been pleased to discover a book that had animal summoning and animal calling spells. Though she did not give it an excessive amount of thought, she was still worried about the snake trapped in the walls. If she was able to call it to her, then at least she'd be able to lead it out of the castle.

On the last night of her break, she was exhausted. Her sleep had been terrible the entire week. Sirius had poked fun at the circles under her eyes, and then poked more fun at her Ravenclaw-ish-ness (as he called it). And at no point did Remus seem to consider going back to his own flat. Rosie wondered what had even happened to it. His presence meant that she spent the entire week being awkwardly polite to Romulus.

All this meant that soon as her head touched her pillow, she was asleep. Like every other night this week, she jerked awake, thinking something was wrong with Harry. Nightmares again? She stared up at the ceiling, watching the fuzzy edges of the shadows. Her eyes were drifting closed again. The feeling of fear and anguish was fading. But then it didn't. She shivered, and pushed herself upright. Goosebumps dotted her skin when the chill air touched her skin.

The feeling of fear in her link felt like salamanders crawling all over her. She felt apprehensive. Last year, comforting Harry when he had his nightmares was normal. Last year, it brought her solace to know that she was helping him. But now, she didn't know what to think. He had become someone who seemed invulnerable. It made her feel small, to lose that belief that she could help him.

But that cry of anguish - that ache at the back of her head and neck - pulled at her heart. Pushing her covers away, turned and climbed off her bed. She edged towards her bedroom door, when something at the corner of her eye caught her attention. Turning her head, Rosie looked towards the window. Was something out there? She felt the hairs on her arm rise, and her palms began to sweat. What would it matter if something was outside the window? They could never get at her - her bedroom was too high up.

Nonetheless, she was cautious as she crept towards the window. But before she reached it, she paused. There was a strange, sinister feeling, settling on her skin like a cold wet towel. She really didn't want to look outside the window. But there was nothing there right? Still, she didn't want to look. Maybe, she should just turn away, and go back to bed. She should just lie back down and close her eyes, and maybe the bad feeling would go away. Why were her feet pulling her closer towards the window? She didn't want to know, but she had to know.

The streetlamp cast a soft glow that seemed to deepen the shadows. The lamp light blotted out the stars, and the sky appeared inky black. She touched the glass panes, and looked downwards towards the street. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat. There was someone there. A dark figure with pale skin and glittering eyes. Eyes that were looking straight at her. The eyes were like pinpricks of starlight - cold, white dots. The person on the street smiled, and their teeth looked as sharp as broken glass. She backed away in terror, tripping and falling on her backside. Her heart pounded in her ears like a mallet beating upon a calfskin drum. That and her ragged breathing was all she could hear. She scuttled backwards, until she felt the edge of her bed. Her pulse was racing with a frantic cadence.

"Rosie," a voice called out. It sounded like Harry. But he sounded weak. The voice was so faint. "Help - me - Rosie."

"Harry?" Rosie called out hesitantly. The darkness seemed to swallow her voice. She looked towards the wall of her room, and noticed that the grate was open. It was big - bigger than she remembered. And it was an escape. An escape from whatever that thing was outside. She crawled towards it - something seemed to tug her there. Harry, maybe? The hole in the wall was large enough that she could crawl through without having to duck her head. But the walls still scraped against her arms and shoulders. The feeling of torment increased in the link. She felt as though there was a band around her chest, squeezing. It hurt. Harry was hurting. Harry was in trouble. She had to find him, before it was too late.

Rosie felt like she was crawling for an indeterminate period of time. The walls around her were brick. The colour reminded her of dried blood. The rough edges seemed to scratch at her clothes and skin. She was afraid. She kept thinking that if she stopped, even for a moment, she would be found. But, found by what? The image of glittering dark eyes popped in her head. And teeth, as sharp as glass. Her stomach lurched. She turned a corner, and was surprised to see a small door at the end.

Dread coiled in her belly. For some reason, she didn't want to open the door. She had a feeling that whatever was on the other side was something she didn't want to see. But at the same time, she knew she had to do it. There was no choice. If she stopped, she would be found. And if she was found then - then what?

She pushed the door, her movements hesitant. She seemed to be in an endless dark space, but there was a large, rectangular box up ahead. The box was red and gold - Gryffindor colours. Out of the hole in the wall, she stood up and walked towards the box. She looked behind her, but the hole (and the entire wall) was gone. There was only the endless black space, and the large, rectangular box.

The box had a lid like a shoebox. She felt a sense of urgency, and reached towards the lid. With a hand on each side, she pulled off the lid, holding it as though it was something fragile. The sight within the box turned her insides to jelly.

"Harry?" Her voice came out like a croak.

"You found me," her brother whispered. He tried to smile, and the winced. "I knew you would."

"Harry -" Rosie didn't want to voice the question, but she couldn't stop herself. "What happened to your arms and - uh - your legs." Her voice cracked. He looked like his limbs had been vanished. He looked disturbingly small and debilitated.

"He - It took them," he replied. He looked so tired. "It won't stop taking parts of me. You will help me, won't you Rosie?" His green eyes looked faded, like the light of his spirit was dimmed.

"Of course!" Her eyes stung with tears. Her heart felt like it was shattering within her. "Of course. Tell me what to do, Harry. Please!"

Harry's eyelids fluttered closed. "It's coming. It can't know that you found me. You have to go Rosie."

"What? Harry - no! I can't leave you!"

His eyes opened, and his gaze pierced the depths of her soul. "You can't save me if you stay. Go! Don't forget me Rosie. Not again."

The blackness was somehow fading to whiteness. The she looked around her, bewildered, but when she tried to look back to Harry, he was gone.

"Don't forget me," a Harry's voice whispered. "And don't look him in the eyes."

Rosie opened her eyes. The side of her face was pressed against her pillow, which was wet with her tears. Her room was still dark - she couldn't guess at the time. She attempted to feel Harry through the link, but there was nothing there. She exhaled a shuddering breath. Harry. How could she have forgotten? She wondered if she should check on him. She pushed her covers aside, flinching as the cool air contacted her skin. As she tiptoed towards her door, she peered towards her window. A sickening feeling left her wanting to scrub every inch of her with a steel wool scrubber. She felt somehow tainted.

She crossed the hall and stood in front of Harry's door. Should she check on him? Her hand reached towards the doorknob, but as she twisted it, she was startled to find it was locked. When did Harry start locking his doors? She bit her lower lip, feeling rejected. But - whoever that was laying in Harry's bed wasn't really even Harry, was he?

She looked up the hall towards the room where Romulus was staying. She would have to apologize to him. A feeling of shame washed over him. Her behaviour towards him had been terrible.

The next day, Harry, Rosie and Romulus were packed and on their way to King's Cross Station. Rosie had regretted her lack of attentiveness towards Sirius as well as Remus over the Easter break. Before boarding the scarlet train, she hugged Sirius with all her might. She gave Remus a hug and a silent apology. He had rested a hand on the top of her head, as though absolving her, but it didn't take away her guilt. With a final watery smile towards the pair of them, she boarded the train.

Instead of sitting with Harry and his friends, she made her excuses and joined Luna and Romulus in a separate compartment. Her brother had given her an amused smile, and shooed her off. It was like watching a creature wearing Harry's skin. Whatever was affecting him had perfected Harry's mannerisms.

She felt shy as she entered the compartment where Luna and Romulus sat, across from one another. Romulus's blue eyes were wintry and his face was impassive. He had given her a quick glance and then looked away, keeping his gaze on the view outside the window. Since the train had yet to move, all he saw were the crowds of parents. Luna had given her a serene smile, as though nothing was the matter. Rosie took a deep breath, and sat next to Romulus. He looked surprised, when he felt the seat shift. As for Luna, she appeared to be as pleased as a fox with a fresh caught mouse.

"Rom?" Rosie said gingerly. Her palms were damp with nervousness, and her insides felt wobbly. What if he hated her now? Her behaviour had been terrible. Perhaps she was beyond forgiveness. Romulus met her eyes, and his expression was composed but also expectant.

Rosie took a deep breath, trying to centre herself. Blank and empty she reminded herself, trying to slow her galloping heart. It was hard to meet his eyes. She made brief eye contact before looking away, examining the material of their seats with undue interest.

"I'm really sorry. About everything." Rosie peeked a glance back at Romulus, trying to gauge his reaction. He was scanning her face, as though trying to ascertain her sincerity. Then he shrugged.

"Okay."

Rosie frowned. Okay? What did he mean? Was he brushing her off? Or accepting her apology. Romulus was hard to read at the best of times. She wasn't sure whether to keep prodding him, or to leave him alone.

"Rosie - you're starting to attract wrackspurts," Luna said mildly. Rosie looked towards her friend, puzzled.

"Don't overthink things. It's okay." Luna's large grey eyes held a twinkle of amusement. Rosie turned to look back at Romulus, and a small smile tugged at the edge of his lips. She suddenly felt as though an immense burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Rosie gave Luna a quavering smile of gratitude. She bit her lower lip, almost restraining her smile, and peered back at Romulus.

"I don't deserve friends like you two. I've been such an idiot," she confessed with a sigh. Romulus smirked.

"I've heard that's something that happens to people," Romulus replied. Rosie looked confused for a brief moment before shaking her head and giving Romulus an affectionate push on the shoulder.

"Oh look, the wrackspurts are going away!" Luna said placidly.

Rosie grinned. "It's about time."

Back at Hogwarts, Rosie divided her time between Romulus, Luna and Harry. Harry had noticed her spending less time with him. But she made some excuse about neglecting her Ravenclaw friends, and he seemed to accept the excuse. Having so many people in his life, Harry couldn't be bothered to track her down (or so she hoped. With renewed zeal, she tried to research what she could about curses and possessions. She continued taking notes on her brother's behaviour, and included a long section about how her own behaviour had been affected by him. Was Harry (or as she silently called him black-Harry) using some sort of mind magic? Mind magic, both Occlumency and Legilimency were relatively obscure branches of magic. The topics were not taught in school, but many pureblood families made it a point to learn one or both arts. Occlumency, in particular, was taught to many pureblood children whose families aligned themselves with the Dark side and Dark magic. It was perceived as the logical course of action to be able to protect one's secrets, both physically and in the mind.

Despite having been raised by a pureblood (which Sirius was), whose family consisted of Dark Wizards, neither Rosie nor Harry had been taught any mind magics. Sirius had long-ago aligned himself with the Light, and had done his best to cast off all the trappings of the Dark. If not for the Black family library, Rosie would have been ignorant of both concepts. Rosie had read more about Occlumency that Legilimency. They were both such advanced magic. Even if she had wanted to attempt to learn it herself, the likelihood of her succeeding was very low.

As a result, her knowledge about Legilimency was scant, and she decided it was as good a place as any to continue her research. She had so few clues otherwise. Though the Hogwarts library was vast, she was surprised to discover that she could find nothing about Legilimency. There had been one book that made mention of mind magics, but it only described some general theory. If there was anything to discover here, it would be in the restricted section. It occurred to her then that Madam Pomfrey had given her a book on mind healing, which had included an entire chapter on Legilimency. Better to start there than to take out the invisibility cloak and break more school rules.

The mind healing book ended up having enough information to confirm Rosie's suspicions. Black-Harry was most likely a Legilimens. More than that, he was a powerful one - it was not an easy magical art to master. Powerful Legilimens were capable of subtle compulsion magics, and she was quite sure that black-Harry had done this to her. And more than that, Legilimency required eye-contact to work. No wonder Luna had warned her not to look Harry in the eye. And Rosie almost never questioned how Luna knew what she knew. Her father was the editor to The Quibbler. It was expected that Luna would have access to areas of knowledge that most people knew nothing about.

Long ago, Rosie had given up trying to learn Occlumency (beyond emptying her mind) because it was too difficult. Now, it seemed like it might be a necessity. She couldn't find any books either Legilimency or Occlumency in the Hogwarts library, but she knew that there was a book about Occlumency at Grimmauld Place. She would have to get Sirius to send it by owl post.

Since Rosie, Luna and Romulus weren't certain whether or not Harry was possessed, Rosie decided it would be best to focus on soul protection. This was a concept mentioned in a couple of the books related to possessions. The dream that Rosie had had over Easter break remained vivid in her mind. She had a feeling that the Harry she had seen in the box represented the strength of his soul. Whatever it was that was affecting her-Harry had weakened him terribly. Not only was he shut away in some dark corner of his consciousness, but parts of him had been taken-over by the Darkness.

"Do you think you'd be able to make this potion?" Rosie had asked Romulus, as they were sitting together in the library after class. She pointed to the complicated brew in the archaic book they had found on soul-protections. Of all the potions that were mentioned, this one had seemed the most powerful, but also beneficial. On the off chance that there was another soul inhabiting Harry's body, they would want to make sure to strengthen Harry's soul, and not someone else's.

Romulus scanned the recipe with a thoughtful expression. "It's not too difficult. Rare ingredients, though."

"I could provide the Galleons for the ingredients - maybe we could buy them from Professor Snape," Rosie suggested.

Romulus frowned. "He'd probably be willing to help anyway, if you were just willing to tell him."

"No!" Rosie exclaimed. "I - well - I'm still not sure about him. He might like you, but he has always been pretty mean to Harry. I just - well - maybe if you speak to him? Please?"

It took an effort for Romulus not to roll his eyes. Instead he shrugged. "Fine." But he didn't appear to annoyed by Rosie's reluctance.

"You'll want to give this potion to your brother sooner rather than later," Romulus added, as he glanced over the instruction again. "It will be more effective that way. Have you thought about how you'll do it?"

"I have ideas - but, you'll have to make me two batches," Rosie replied. Romulus watched her, waiting for her to elaborate. "Well, I'm not sure if it'll work, but it's all I can think of. Trying to spell the potion into his stomach is too difficult. Knowing my luck, I'd probably kill him." Rosie frowned miserably.

Romulus only gave a noncommittal hum in response.

As the rest of April passed by, Rosie's stress only increased. She felt as though she were no closer to a solution. Everything she was grasping at consisted of methods that only held the danger at bay. Harry's popularity had only increased during that period of time. If such a title as 'Most Popular Boy at Hogwarts' existed, Harry could contend for the title.

It was getting near to that period of time that kept Ravenclaws away from bed, and sent them (bloodshot eyes and all) straight for the books - exams were coming up. And now that they had a new History teacher, Ravenclaws that previously neglected the subject had developed a renewed interest in it. This renewed interested manifested itself as extra studying and hours spent in the library. ("Professor Humberston is so amazing" she had heard more than one of the Ravenclaws proclaim. "She knows so much about the inheritance laws of early medieval wizards in the Southern Isles!") Rosie supposed that she should be grateful, in a way. Impending exams meant that Marietta and Sarah were too busy studying to plot ways to torture her. Sadly, this was not the case for Toby. The fourth year was as unruffled as ever. With Rosie spending less time with Harry, this meant more hair-tousling, and aggravating cutesy nicknames from Toby. She could tolerate the fake affection. But the ambiguous, veiled comments and questions were unsettling ("Having trouble with your brother?" he'd ask, with his mocking smile.) She felt that he knew more than he was letting on.

"I'll tell you about my special ability if you tell me what you know about Harry," she had said once to Toby, in a moment of desperation. She had been in the Ravenclaw Nest at the time, about to enter her dormitory when he had 'bumped into' her. He had ruffled her hair, and was about to walk away when she grabbed onto his sleeve, and then let go as though she had been scalded.

Toby was as dispassionate as ever. He pretended to consider her exchange, black eyes scanning the ceiling as if in thought. "No," he drawled with honey smoothness. "No sense spoiling my fun. But nice of you to offer, sweet little Eaglet."

"What, about this, is fun?" Rosie had snapped and scowled.

Toby's eyes danced with amusement. He made a nonchalant sweeping gesture towards her. "Oh, all this. You're quite cute when you're angry. Your face gets splotchy. Oh come, don't look embarrassed, little one. I mean that in a nice way." His tone sounded a bit nasty as he said it, so it was evident that he did not mean it in a nice way.

Rosie had been about to turn away and head up to her dorm room, when Toby grabbed her wrist. "You know, little rose, you've been a lot more entertaining that I expected." He smirked and then released his grip.

Her wrist felt as though it had been branded, even though his touch was cold. "Is that all you wanted to say, Tobs?" She felt angry. She couldn't help it. Her life wasn't a game. Harry's situation wasn't fun. She resented the way that Toby got pleasure out of this.

"Actually no," Toby replied. "What I wanted to say is that you should tell your little wolf to come back to the Nest."

"What? Why?"

Toby smirked. "Don't worry, I'll make sure that no harm comes to him from the other Eagles."

Rosie narrowed her eyes with mistrust. "What's this about?"

The edge of Toby's lip turned up. "It just seems like our prodigal son ought to come back." Toby shrugged. "And I confess, it amuses me to see the Eagles tremble before the little wolf cub, cowards that they are."

Rosie's eyes widened. She never thought she'd hear Toby confess to this side of himself. "You're scary, Woodbridge," she confessed, surprised at her honesty.

Toby's returning smile was genuine. "I'll take that as a compliment, little one."

Rosie did managed to convince Romulus to return to the Nest. She knew he liked the Ravenclaw's perch - it was one of the brightest and most peaceful places that one could study (while sitting at an actual desk). There were other solitary spots at Hogwarts that offered more privacy, but alas - no tables were available. But although that felt like a small win for Romulus, the situation was still bad. Throughout April and even May, Romulus did not come down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Rosie knew that more than ever, Romulus wanted to avoid the crowd of students, now that his identity as a werewolf had been revealed. Cowed Ravenclaws were one thing - the rest of Hogwarts was another.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Rosie had asked, trying to keep the plaintive tone out of her voice.

"I'm still getting howlers," Romulus replied. "And the headmaster hates me."

Rosie frowned. She would have liked to deny it - but even she had seen the looks of disgust that Professor Mole shot at Romulus whenever the man's eyes happened to pass over the Ravenclaw table. She hated him. She hated the headmaster almost in equal measure as the other Ravenclaws seemed to love him ("The best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts," most of the gushed.) She might not have been close to Professor Dumbledore, but she wished the eccentric old man would come back. Why did it have to feel like things just got progressively worse? At least there were no more strange petrifications. Her sessions with Madam Pomfrey kept her up to date on the health and wellness of the student body.

As May's full moon drew near, Romulus grew more and more morose and withdrawn. She knew that she should have been focused on helping Harry, but instead, she and Luna fretted over their friend.

"Please tell us what's wrong," Rosie had beseeched Romulus. "You never used to get bothered by full moons. What's changed? What is Professor Mole making you do?"

Romulus would only purse his lips. Otherwise, he pretended not to hear. But his blue eyes showed a mix of rage and deep weariness. In some ways, it reminded Rosie of the Bloody Baron - the ghost that carried the burden of heavy chains.

"Do you think we should follow him?" Rosie had asked Luna, when the pair of them were alone in the dorms. But Luna shook her head.

"It would wound his pride."

Rosie sighed heavily. "I know. I know, but -" she sighed again. "I'm so worried about him."

When the sixth of May arrived, Rosie couldn't stop looking over at Romulus. It was tempting to fuss over him, but when she had tried, he only snapped at her. His eyes flashed with an untamed anger - the eyes of a wolf that was trapped. Romulus probably wouldn't want anything like pity or sympathy, but Rosie couldn't help feeling bad. Even Harry had noticed Rosie's troubled mood and commented on it.

The day had dragged with aching slowness. The night was worse - her imagination supplied her with images of pain and torment. She couldn't stop thinking of Romulus being tied down and forced to submit. She thought of a wolf's lonely howl, and snapping, snarling teeth that could not reach anything. And she couldn't help thinking of how Romulus was alone - all alone, with no one to help him.

It was a mixed blessing to see the sun rise the following day. Though she could barely peel her eyes open, and her head felt like it was stuffed with wool, she was down in the infirmary first thing in the morning. Romulus was already lying on one of the infirmary beds, covered with a blanket. His pallor was sickly, and tremors would shake his body. She felt tears springing at her eyes, and took her friend's hand. He appeared to be unconscious.

"He's been given a calming draught, but it seems to have sent him straight off to sleep," Madam Pomfrey said, coming up behind Rosie. The matron laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her blue eyes were kind.

"He didn't suffer like this before -" Rosie said, her voice wobbling. "Why is it like this now? What did Professor Mole do to him to make him like this?"

"I've only been told that he's been required to stay within the castle, Miss Potter. He's also quite sensitive to the wolfsbane. Beyond that, I'm not certain," the matron told her.

Rosie's heart ached, and she didn't want to let her friend's hand go. But she had classes to go to.

"I'll be back later," she murmured to the sleeping Romulus.

Rosie and Luna visited Romulus in the late afternoon. Their friend was awake, and polishing off the last of his food. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked rather ragged. But he still smiled when he saw them, even if it barely reached his eyes.

"How are you feeling, Rom?" Rosie asked. Romulus shrugged.

"I made you this," said Luna, handing over smooth stone with runes etched into it. "For healing and strength."

Romulus stared down at the stone, and swallowed. "Thank you," he murmured, closing his fingers around the stone. He closed his eyes, and it almost looked as though he could feel the magic of it. Or perhaps he did. Rosie did recall reading that werewolves were sensitive to magic.

Rosie examined Romulus with concerned care. Knowing her friend, he wouldn't want to talk about anything. Romulus had never been the sort to spill his heart. Though she did wonder what he wrote about in his letters to Remus.

"We brought our books and homework," Rosie said. "We'll spend the rest of the afternoon with you."

Romulus looked surprised by this. But a faint flush coloured his cheeks, and if Rosie hadn't been looking, she would have missed the light in his eyes.

"You're going to be so sick of the two of us by the end of the day," Rosie grinned. Romulus could only smile and shake his head. Though little had changed, he looked a little stronger and healthier.

By the weekend, Romulus was back to normal. He told Rosie and Luna that Professor Snape had given him the necessary ingredients, and he planned to start brewing the soul-protecting potion immediately.

"Did you tell him anything about - well, Harry?" Rosie had asked nervously. Romulus had shaken his head.

Rosie still heard the occasional hiss of the large snake, but the summoning and calling spells that she had found in the Black Library had had little success. It wasn't that she had failed to call a snake - as a matter of fact, she had managed to call not one but three pet snakes that students had snuck into Hogwarts. Two of the three snakes were annoyed to have been pulled away from their warmth. One of the snakes wouldn't leave her alone until she fed it. That turned out to be more challenging than she thought, and she ended up having to summon a mouse for the little serpent.

"Small but acceptable," the snake had hissed. Rosie sighed. She had never worked so hard for a meal before (and it wasn't even her own meal). Could that large serpent have died, she wondered. Did it end up starving somewhere, alone and trapped behind the walls? She felt something in her chest tighten at the thought. It sounded like such a terrible fate. She hoped it wasn't too late for the mysterious snake. But it was a low priority compared to Harry.

A few days after promising to brew the soul-protecting potion for Rosie, Romulus handed her two small phials. The liquid inside was a clear with a hint of pink. Within the small phials, the top layer smoked and misted, forming sinuous patterns.

"You've read about the potion?" Romulus asked.

"Yeah," Rosie replied. She wouldn't do or use anything that she thought could harm Harry. But she didn't want to do anything that could strengthen the blackness either. From everything that she read about the soul protection potion, it was helpful both for those who were possessed, and those who weren't. If a person who wasn't possessed were to drink the soul-protection potion, it would fortify the soul. Its effects were particularly helpful in protecting against damage from using Dark Magic. Maybe it would help Harry, but maybe it wouldn't. Either way, it wouldn't hurt him. The only question was, would he drink it?

Rosie didn't want to resort to trickery to get Harry to drink the potion. She had long ago discarded the idea of using a spell to get into his stomach. In part, because the risks were so great, but also, it just felt wrong. She didn't plan to use subterfuge. Rosie didn't have the cunning of a Slytherin. Instead, she would just have to try for Gryffindor bravery. And Ravenclaw logic. The bravery was the difficult part.

It was a with a sense of quivering trepidation that she joined Harry and his friends at the Gryffindor table after her last class of the day. Luna had joined her. Without the serene support of her friend, she wasn't certain whether she would have been able to dredge up enough courage.


A/N: Well, this is all I have written on this story. Thank you very much for the reviews!

I'm divided on whether or not I want to finish this story or not. I think the problem is that I like the characters in Callidus (or even my Lion & the Seer story) a lot more than I like the characters in this story. Character development is hard... and I made this story particularly challenging by making Rom someone who doesn't like to communicate... and writing Rosie without really "knowing" her

I have started another HP fanfic called "the feral twins" (might change the title). It's quite Dark though (and as I write it, I feel like it keeps getting darker...) and involves Harry and a twin

If I ever find myself in a situation with tons of time on my hands (which I don't see in the foreseeable future, sadly) I might pick this back up. Or rewrite it. Unfortuately, if I re-write, I think I'd change Rosie's character quite a bit