"This is stupid," I spat, pacing half the length of the hospital wing anxiously. Harry said nothing, staring at a spot on the floor with unseeing eyes and a pale face. By the side of the bed, Lupin watched me with a troubled expression. "I am not in love with Harry Potter."

"I never said you were," Lupin replied softly.

"Yes you did!" I argued. "All that with that dead girl and the Muggle boy!" Harry opened his mouth to comment on my less than accurate reference, but fell silent when I shot him a murderous look. "Just because some magic tattoo appears on my arm doesn't mean I'm-" I cut off, fuming and completely unable to say anything else.

Pursing his lips, Lupin pushed himself to his feet and stepped around the bed, taking me by the shoulders and forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me, Artemis. No one is suggesting there is anything going on between you and Harry. Not every couple in your situation feel the same effects as Juliette and her husband did. I once heard that my great-great-great grandmother's sister actually killed the man who triggered that tattoo."

That just made me more angry. Considering this had all be set off by the idea of my father murdering Harry, the indication that I might be capable of the same thing made my blood boil. Glowering, I pushed Lupin back and straightened out.

"What do these tattoos actually do, anyway?" Harry interrupted, scanning my expression worriedly.

Lupin considered him for a moment. "To you, not much. After all, it was Artemis's bloodline that carried the curse. Unfortunately, you just bear the burden of the side-effects."

"Oh brilliant," I snarled. "There are side-effects for the side-effects. This just gets better!"

"Artemis, calm down," Lupin instructed with a scowl. "Working yourself up will only make recovery harder, for the both of you. Now listen to me, because we've been talking about this for too long. No one outside this room, other than Dumbledore, can ever know about this, understand me?" My anger subsiding under the pressure, Harry and I exchanged an awkward look. Lupin's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"We told Ron and Hermione," Harry grimaced.

Lupin pursed his lips. "Very well. An unwise decision, but one that's entirely up to you."

"Hey, they're our best friends!" I exclaimed angrily.

"Exactly!" Lupin scowled. "The very people who will be expected to know these things. Assuming they could stand up under torture, would you be happy if they had to endure that for you?" Neither of us answered, and again, Lupin's expression softened. "I'm sorry, but you need to be aware of the gravity of this situation. Ancestors of ours have suffered terrible fates for carrying this curse."

"Which does what?" I grumbled before I could lose all strength, slumping back down onto the edge of the bed beside Harry. He snuffled awkwardly, but didn't move away.

"It affects the magic in your blood," Lupin told me. "In a way, it strengthens it considerably. Eventually, you'll find that you can do certain magic without ever having heard or learnt about it. Occulmency, protecting the mind from invasion, is a standard one for witches and wizards in the family to pick up. You'll also find that you may be able to use a limited amount of magic without a wand, and while using a wand, any magic you do use is significantly amplified."

Harry and I blinked in surprise. "You're telling us she'll be one of the strongest witches to walk the planet?" he gawped.

Lupin's expression flinched slightly. "Eventually, yes. Since this magic is intrinsically linked to her body and emotions, it's only logical that it starts to take it's hold during her teenage years. By the time she's sixteen, it should have finished."

"Should?" I shuddered. He nodded once. "And what about you? If this is being passed on from my mother, then aren't you the same?"

Lupin's face fell. "Not exactly."

I hesitated a moment. "Why not?"

"I . . . had an accident as a child," he explained slowly, and I got the feeling he wasn't sharing the whole story. "It added another complication. I was extremely lucky that the changes you are experiencing never took hold because of it."

"Okay," I said slowly. "So . . . what happens next?"

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Nothing," he sighed. "Not this year, at least. It's just damage limitation until you're a little older, I'm afraid. Keep the locket, just make sure to hide it beneath your shirt. I don't want people asking questions. Next year . . . well, we'll sort that when we get there."

I frowned, dropping my gaze. "So you're planning on being here next year then?"

Another awkward silence descended over us, and Harry shifted beside me. Muttering something under his breath, Lupin stepped closer and took my chin in his hand, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry for not meeting you sooner," he said sincerely. "I should have been there, and if I could have stopped Sirius leaving you with the Williams, you'd have never left the family in the first place. But he did, and you were safer there than you were being associated with my family. Everything's different now."

Pulling myself away, I nodded but I could tell he didn't believe me. "What if Black finds us?"

Lupin's face darkened. "So long as you stay inside the castle when it's dark and follow the rules, we shouldn't have a problem. If you think you see anything or hear anything, come to me or Dumbledore immediately. That goes for you as well, Harry. Understand?" We both nodded and Lupin smiled tightly, satisfied with our answers. "Now I suggest the two of you get some rest and sleep off the fever. Lessons start first thing tomorrow morning, and if I'm not mistaken, Oliver Wood has a rather tough Quidditch schedule for the two of you." Grimacing once, he turned and marched out of the hospital wing without once looking back.

Harry and I sat in silence for a moment, staring after Lupin. I wasn't entirely sure what all of these revelations meant for the two of us, but I found that as angry as I was that it had taken this long to get the truth, I felt relieved to not be constantly hounded by the uncertainty of it all.

Shaking himself, Harry let out a low whistle. "That was . . ."

"Yeah," I nodded, clearing my throat. Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself to my feet and stretched out. "Lupin was right, we should rest."

Harry nodded, jumping off the bed and heading toward his own. "Hey, Arty?"

"Um?"

"About what Lupin said about that girl, Juliette-"

I flinched, pulling the sheets back and shaking my head. "Forget it, Harry," I warned.

"Back near the library-"

"I said forget it!" I scowled. Harry fell silent. "I'm serious, Harry, I don't want to talk about this."

"So that's it?" he frowned.

"Do you want to have this conversation?" I snapped, throwing myself onto the bed with folded arms.

Harry hesitated. "You're my best friend, Arty."

"Exactly," I sighed. "So just . . . leave it."

After a moments silence, Harry nodded. "Goodnight, Arty." Grimacing, he leant forward and pulled the divider between us, and I felt myself slump in my place. It was nights like this that made me wonder if life was ever going to get any easier, but I slid down and cuddled into the pillows, closing my eyes and letting myself forget about the enormous weight Lupin had just dropped onto my shoulders.

Things didn't get much better the next day. Madam Pomfrey assessed me and Harry before breakfast and declared the two of us back to full health, though insisted on explaining to Harry and me that she vividly remembered working through similar problems with Selena Lupin and Sirius Black, and that she'd take our secret to the grave. Honestly, I'd never seen her so sincere and considerate before, and it worried me greatly.

"Harry," I started cautiously as the two of us left the hospital wing.

"Um?"

"How dangerous do you think all of this is?" I grimaced. He frowned, glancing at me questioningly. "Think about it, Lupin and Dumbledore know, and that can't be avoided. Dumbledore is more than capable of looking after himself, and Lupin's my Uncle. But what about Hermione and Ron? And Madam Pomfrey? What if they get hurt because they know about us?"

Harry didn't answer immediately, and when he did, it wasn't with a solution. "I know how you feel," he admitted quietly. "Black must know too, and if he was a Voldemort supporter, that complicates things. A lot."

"And this is before we start talking about how many people knew about Selena and what will happen if they find out I'm her daughter," I added dejectedly. But a thought suddenly occurred to me, and I pulled Harry to a halt, glancing both ways down the corridor to make sure no one else was in earshot. "Look, there's a high chance quite a few people will find out who I am."

"Arty-"

"No, Harry, just listen to me," I interrupted. "I want you to promise that no matter who comes looking for me, you won't ever let anyone see that tattoo."

His eyes flashed angrily and my shoulders tensed, ready for the inevitable argument. "If someone finds you that means you're in trouble," Harry snapped. "You think I'm just going to sit in the corner and keep to myself?"

"No, but I want you to," I sighed. "If Lupin's right, then in a year or so, I'll be able to defend myself well enough to get through most situations. The only thing that bothers me is someone trying to use you against me as leverage. As tough as it is for you to hear, whatever this connection is, it makes you the weak link here."

"Thanks for that," he scowled. "That's really comforting."

"It's honest, Harry!" I persisted. "And since Black is after you right now, I think you'll agree that we don't have time to be anything other than blunt. I'm not saying you can't look after yourself, Harry. I know you can, I've seen you do it! You've stood against Voldemort and won, three times! But we have no idea what sort of people are going to come looking for me, and I need you to trust me to deal with it. I'm not telling you to leave or forget about it all, I just need to know what we're getting into. Okay?"

He glowered, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "If someone hurts you, I won't just stand by and watch. The same goes for Hermione and Ron if anything ever does happen to them because of us."

I took a deep breath. "You're my best friend," I said carefully. "No one will get suspicious about you trying to help me, but people are starting to notice something is different between us and now we know what's going on, we need it to stop. Now."

"Which means?" he questioned coolly.

"That means no more over protective behaviour the moment something goes wrong," I frowned. "No more refusing to leave the hospital wing when one of us is ill and no more sulking in public when we argue. We have to try and go back to how things were last year, or as close as we can get without drawing suspicion."

"I'm not doing anything drastic," he told me sternly. "But . . . maybe you're right. Less suspicion would probably be good." He didn't look convinced, but suitably confused. The truth was, no matter what I said, I was in trouble here. Deep trouble, and eventually, someone would find me. All it would take is for the wrong person to catch wind of Sirius Black's daughter being at Hogwarts and they'd be onto me. But no one knew Harry had triggered this . . . connection, whatever it was. That meant that so long as his tattoo was kept out of sight and so long as we were careful, he was safe.

Unfortunately, he was still Harry Potter. That meant danger and trouble would always find him, and he didn't need my help to attract it. Take Black, for instance. Apparently, my father was after Harry because he believed he was the only thing standing in the way of Voldemort returning. It had nothing to do with him being connected to me in any way. Neither did the fact Voldemort had been after him the first place. All of this just added issues to avoid drawing suspicion, because as easily as Harry could cause people to look twice by helping me, so could I by helping him. I'd already done plenty of that for two years, and I wasn't entirely sure I would be able to take my own advice and back off if he was ever in trouble.

All of these scenarios were just theories of course, so I tried my best to push them to the back of my mind and concentrate on the start of term again. Luckily, it was made easier by the little dramas that seemed to rule my day-to-day life. Within a week of starting lessons, Harry had stopped talking to Hermione altogether, and Ron wasn't best pleased with her either. I hadn't been there at the time, but apparently, Hermione had insisted that Sirius Black had sent Harry the Firebolt and that it might be cursed. When Harry and Ron had ignored her, she'd gone to McGonagall, who'd immediately confiscated it. Honestly, I was a little relieved. Not that I ever dared to tell Harry that.

"I was only doing it for him," Hermione insisted hotly one Saturday morning a few weeks later. "You'd think the world had ended the way they're going on about it!"

"You know how much Quidditch means to them," I replied with a grimace. "And everyone was so sure we could win this year with Harry and a Firebolt. I mean, he's a great Seeker at the best of times, but do you have any idea how fast those Firebolts are?"

"Don't," she groaned, letting her forehead drop into the book she was reading. "You sound like Ron!"

"Hermione, seriously, I'm glad you told McGonagall," I insisted. "I never thought for a minute Black could have sent that and after you mentioned it, I'd been trying to work up to making Harry hand it over, without being killed by Wood. Besides, he'll get it back."

She glanced up, a little hopeful. "When's your first match?"

I winced. "This weekend." Her face fell and she dropped it back into the book with a slight groan. "At least this match is just against Ravenclaw! And Wood's been training us so hard, I could run through the game plan in my sleep."

"But I'm assuming the plan doesn't involve letting Harry ride a school broom," Hermione murmured darkly.

"Better than a cursed one," I pointed out with a shrug and she sighed heavily, pushing herself upright and rubbing her eyes.

Luckily, that Friday afternoon, McGonagall paid a rare visit to the Gryffindor Tower. "Here you are, Potter," she announced, in the middle of a crowded common room. "Your broomstick."

Harry and Ron sat there, staring at it open-mouthed without moving an inch. Most of the kids in the common room had turned to see why the Head of Gryffindor was here, and were now muttering excitedly at the sight of the Firebolt. In the background, I could see Oliver Wood's stunned expression and wondered if he might actually faint.

"Erm, thanks Professor," I supplied with a grateful smile when Harry didn't make a move to take it. McGonagall sighed heavily, handing me the Firebolt with a roll of her eyes. "I'll let him know when he wakes up."

There were a few sniggers around the room, and Harry shook himself abruptly, blinking a few more times than necessary as he pushed himself to his feet and took the broomstick off me. "Thanks, Professor," he said, a little weakly.

McGonagall eyed him for a moment. "You have a match tomorrow, Potter."

"Yes, Professor," he nodded.

There was a sparkle in her eyes when she patted his shoulder with a small smile. "Then I suggest you take it out and get used to the handling," she told him quietly. "Before it gets dark." With that, she spun on her heel and let herself out of the room, leaving a lot of students staring after her in surprise.

Ron jumped to his feet, smiling widely. "Great! Do you mind if I have a shot after you?"

"Us too!" the Weasley twins insisted from the corner.

"Yeah, and me!" Dean Thomas called.

"Me too!" Katie Bell added.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute," Wood's stern voice came as he strode forward with a frown. "We have a match tomorrow. Potter needs to use all the time he has to get himself adjusted to it. If he feels like letting the rest of you loose with it, that can wait until after the match."

Their faces fell, but Harry looked thoroughly relieved. Grinning from ear to ear, he turned to Ron and me with the broomstick clutched tightly in his hands. "You coming?" he asked.

Ron nodded enthusiastically, but I hesitated, glancing outside. It wouldn't be long before it started to turn dark, and with the threat of Black still being at large, I wanted nothing more than to stuff my wand into my pocket and follow him out there. But then I remembered we were supposed to be keeping our distance, and last year, I wouldn't have been caught dead on a Quidditch pitch unless absolutely necessary.

"I'll pass," I grimaced. "But enjoy yourself."

Harry's smile wavered a fraction, but he caught it and nodded, turning to leave with Ron in toe. But it seemed like Wood had other ideas. "Actually, Artemis, I want you to go with him," he instructed and my shoulders sagged.

"Why?" I groaned.

"To test him," he insisted. "He's been practising on a school broom so you have to put him through his paces. The others wouldn't go half as hard on him as you will. I'd be more than willing to do it, but if I don't finish this essay before my detention with Snape, he isn't going to let me play tomorrow."

I glanced from Wood to Harry uncertainly. I knew Wood was desperate to win this year, and when I met Harry's gaze, he just shrugged a shoulder at me. "Fine," I conceded. "Let me grab my broom."

So we spent the rest of the afternoon on the Quidditch pitch, and I hated myself for enjoying it so much. I'd made a point of being a very reluctant player last year, and it was getting harder to keep myself separated, just when it became important that I did that very thing. Hagrid came down when he spotted us out, scolding us for being out without supervision. But instead of forcing us back inside, he decided to stay on the ground with Ron while Harry and I trained.

The Firebolt easily outstripped my Nimbus Two Thousand, which was incidentally the only model of broomstick Harry wanted to compare it to, having had the same one for the past two years. Using a large bag of golf balls Wood had supplied, I spent a long time ducking and diving and throwing them in every direction to make sure Harry could catch them before they landed. Of course, he didn't miss one, not that he didn't find something to complain about.

"God, you're harder to train with than Wood is!" he yelled as he caught the last one.

"That's why I'm here!" I reminded him with a smug smirk.

It was incredibly late by the time we'd finished, and dark had long since fell over the grounds, which made me feel a rush of gratitude toward Wood for making me come out. If I'd stayed in the common room while Harry was out here, I'd have only worked myself up. The more I thought about what Lupin had told me, the more paranoid I became. The problem was, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

"We've got to win that match tomorrow," Harry insisted as we entered the common room, tired and cold but pleased with the night's work.

"You can't lose with that Firebolt," Ron agreed with a grin. "The Ravenclaws aren't going to know what's hit them!"

"Just a shame we couldn't test it on the Slytherins first," I scoffed, and the two of them nodded their agreement. Yawning widely, I stretched out and took a deep breath. "Well, I'm off to bed. Guess I'll see you tomorrow. Big day and everything."

Harry snorted darkly. "Wood will kill us if we don't win this. We need it if we're going to win the Cup."

"No pressure then, Harry," I sighed.