The way he was staring at her was beginning to get on her nerves. She flicked her hair back, giving herself an excuse to look over her shoulder at him again – he was still watching her, his grey eyes as cold as slate. Most girls in her year would kill to have full attention of Sirius Black bearing down upon them, but somehow Rose knew that this was not a positive development. She had much preferred the cool distance they had kept from each other before to this aggressive interest.

She knew what had triggered this, of course. She was reminded of it every time her eyes drifted to the empty seat next to Peter Pettigrew, where Lupin usually sat. They had been off with each other lately, Lupin and his friends. Lily had mentioned it to her absent-mindedly the other day as they had been walking to lunch together, mentioning that this had all started about a week ago. Thinking back to a week ago, when Rose had coincidentally stopped talking to Lupin as well after the library incident, seemed to solve this mystery. A small but vocal part of Rose was somewhat glad of this. If Lupin had been willing to hurt her, she was gratified to know that he had been hurt too – even if it meant that Sirius Black was now holding a grudge against her.

That being said, she couldn't help but be slightly concerned by Lupin's absence over the last few days. Lily had reassured her that Lupin was often absent, down to the fact that his mother was suffering from dragon pox, and it was important for him to be there for her. Rose wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed this before, but then realised that until this year, she had never really paid him much attention at all. This realisation, added to the knowledge that his mother was sick, undid any pleasure she had gained from his friendship troubles.

"Rose? Are you concentrating?"

Leah shook her shoulder lightly, and Rose jumped a foot into the air, causing the students around her to snigger. "Yes, of course!"

"Well good," Leah sniffed, "because this is a very complex potion, and if you muck it up for the both of us, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Rose knew that Leah was joking, but there was still a grain of doubt. "Slytherin ambition peeking through a bit there, Lea."

Leah shrugged, as though she didn't see the issue, and turned back to the blackboard with a laser-focus. Rose, who had indeed been distracted, tried desperately to glean some context from Slughorn's rambling, but it appeared that his lecture was coming to a close. The instructions were all written out, and the old professor was now beginning to glide around the classroom, piping up with advice now and then as the students began their prep. Rose looked helplessly to Leah for guidance.

Leah read her face straight away. "I knew you weren't listening."

"I'm sorry! But have you seen the way Black is looking at me? I feel like I'm going to be assassinated…"

The two of them looked surreptitiously behind them. Black was still glaring, now aggressively chopping up a sea cucumber as though he wished it was Rose's head. He was at risk of cutting off a finger.

"He's such a weirdo," Leah muttered, passing Rose her own sea cucumber. "Alright, alright, see if you can do a better job, will you? The pieces should be even."

Rose set about her job uneasily. Thankfully, she was naturally gifted at potions, and as the two girls began the brewing, she soon picked up what they were supposed to be doing and began to be of actual use, offering advice every now and then. When their potion was bubbling away merrily and Slughorn had given it a satisfactory nod, Leah shot her friend a sly glance.

"I don't suppose there's any reason Black would be angry at you?"

Rose sniffed, as though she resented the question, but her cheeks flushed. "No, of course not. He's just a bigot."

"Uh huh…" Leah murmured, eyeing her friend suspiciously. "Only Lily tells me that you and Remus had a fight…?"

Roses façade of indifference faded immediately. "How did she know that? I didn't tell her that!"

Leah rolled her eyes. "Did it ever occur to you that Lily and Remus are friends on their own terms? Maybe he told her."

This was a distressing thought for Rose, but it didn't stop a warm feeling of gratification spreading through her, all the way to the tips of her fingers. Lupin talked about her. To Lily. "It was nothing." She hesitated. "Well –"

Leah leaned closer, assuming that she was at last about to hear the full story, but was disappointed. Right as Rose's mouth moved to form the next, pivotal word, she jumped back and squealed. A mystery missile had flown just inches past her left ear and landed, with a plop, into their potion. Leah pushed back instinctively too, and growled as she watched their close to perfect potion turn from a bright lime green to a muddy brown. As quickly as she could, she grabbed her wand and levitated out the mysterious object, hoping to limit the damage that had already been done. It was a dungbomb. It took a few moments for the smell to hit the girls, but when it did, they gagged, and pulled their cloaks up over their noses to deal with the stench.

The girls turned around slowly, already fully aware who the culprits were. James Potter and Sirius Black were watching them with grim satisfaction, eyes stony. It wasn't hard to work out who had thrown the bomb – James Potter was, after all, the star chaser of the Gryffindor quidditch team – but he definitely wasn't the mastermind of the plan. The expression of contempt on Black's face told them everything they needed to know.

The smell was starting to dissipate around the room. People sitting at the desks near them began yelling and coughing, and it wasn't long before a full-blown commotion had burst out. Slughorn was soon alerted to the incident and, silk handkerchief clasped to his nose, he managed to approach the cauldron and perform a quick charm to eliminate the smell. The girls, now able to open their eyes properly without them streaming, peered inside. The potion was most certainly unsalvageable, even for the brightest witches in the class. Slughorn looked thunderous.

"Who did this?" he demanded, whipping his head back and forth so that he could glare simultaneously at all of them.

Leah didn't need to be asked twice. "It was them, professor!" she said, pointing an accusing finger that Rose desperately tried to pull down. Potter and Black impassively met Slughorn's gaze.

"Boys, is this true?" The Potions Master was speaking in a disturbingly calm tone. Rose expected them to deny it, to throw the blame on someone more obvious, like Avery, but they continued on in their defiance.

"Yes," they said in unison, crossing their arms. There were gasps all across the dungeon, and a voice that was unmistakably Lily's hissing unbelievable.

Slughorn had clearly not expected such an immediate admission, especially from two of his most charming, if troublesome, students. "And why exactly do you feel it's appropriate to be throwing dungbombs in my class?"

It was Black who answered, his clipped accent ringing off of the stone walls. "Well, you see sir, we just don't agree with blood purists being allowed in our school."

A shocked silence fell over the class. Rose felt winded. She had known it was how they felt, but to hear it out loud, so plainly said, made her feel sick. It seemed a long time before anyone moved again.

Slughorn had gone very white. "I –"

But whatever he had intended to say was drowned out by a much less welcome voice. Avery, his snide tone piercing the air, said, "A blood purist? I wish! That blood traitor should pack up though, I agree with you on that."

"Why don't you go back to your Muggle-loving family, Prewett? Maybe you could get a job at the local supershop."

Mulciber's inability to recall the word supermarket might have been comical in another situation, but followed by the jeers of the other Slytherin boys, it was chilling. James Potter actually stood up, as though he was about to physically fight one of them, but Slughorn finally snapped.

"ENOUGH."

Silence fell again.

"Enough. Potter, Black, Avery, Mulciber – all of you, detention, tonight. And fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin – yes, Rosier, from my own house! You should count yourself lucky you're not getting a detention as well! Everyone back to work!"

The class, who had erupted in chatter, some of which was resentful, but most of it gossipy, were able to get back to work quite easily all things considered. After all, Rose Prewett being jeered at was hardly newsworthy. It was only Rose and Leah who remained sat, immobile, looking blankly at their ruined work. Slughorn approached tentatively.

"Don't worry, girls," he said kindly. They were some of his favourite students, and he was as disappointed as they were that their work had been for nothing. "I won't count this as a fail."

Leah muttered a muted thank you, but Rose said nothing. She didn't trust herself to speak. Slughorn nodded sadly, before slipping away to Severus and Lily's desk. Leah turned to her friend.

"Rose, are you alright?"

She didn't respond. There were tears stinging her eyes, and her vision was becoming hazy. She felt strange, like her blood was hot inside her veins. She didn't realise it, but her hands were clammy and shaking. Leah, who was watching her closely, noticed small wisps of steam emanating from her fingertips.

Deciding it was best to leave her alone, Leah turned back to their ruined potion, resigned to vanishing it away – but she soon realised it was bubbling ferociously. Confused, she checked the base of the cauldron, but there was no fire crackling there anymore. When she looked back, the potion was bubbling even more, and was rising, threatening to overflow. Leah turned to Rose for help, and noticed that the redhead's gaze was locked onto the potion.

"Rose…?"

She didn't respond. She couldn't be causing it… could she? Leah peered closer at Rose's expression. It seemed as though Rose wasn't actually seeing the potion at all, but looking through it. Tears were welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She was shaking even more than before.

"Rose, stop it." There was no acknowledgement. "Professor Slughorn!"

But it was too late. Just as Professor Slughorn turned at the sound of his name, the potion reached its breaking point. The cauldron, which had been straining under the pressure, let out a loud creak before bursting into a thousand small pieces, sending shards of pewter and splotches of ruined potion flying across the room. The class, seemingly as one, all managed to duck beneath nearby desks at the sound, and the classroom itself took the brunt of the damage. When they finally poked their heads back up again in a few moments, it was obvious to everyone that only one person had remained standing, her long red hair covered in brown spatters, and a single, sizable cut across her right cheek that was oozing blood. Slughorn, along with the rest of them, could only stare.

"Miss Prewett…"

But as soon as he had opened his mouth, Rose's eyes rolled back into her head, and she fell, like a rag doll, to the floor.

"Lily – Lily, don't!"

Lily Evans could not be stopped, however. She was storming down the corridor, green eyes narrowed to slits, her gaze focussed on the group of three boys a few feet ahead of her. Severus and Leah hurried after her, but they were hindered in their progress by their desire to stay well out of the firing line, and so it wasn't long before she reached her target.

"Oi – you lot!"

Potter, Black, and Pettigrew all turned around, their expressions mixed at the sight of her. Potter looked pleasantly surprised, Black wary – and Pettigrew quickly slipped behind the taller boys, peering worriedly around Potter's shoulder.

"Alright Evans?" said Potter cockily. "Enjoy the show?"

He did not see the slap coming, and so when her palm made contact with his cheek, he doubled back in shock, threatening to trample poor Peter behind him.

"What the hell was that for?" he snapped, his cheek stinging. Sirius and Peter both stepped backward, wishing to avoid joining their friend. The general crowd of students who were moving to their next classes immediately gave the group a wide berth. Many stopped to eavesdrop.

"That is for being a bigoted arsehole!"

James' face went through all kinds of silent expressions of incredulity before resting on indignation. "Bigoted? We're not the bigoted ones here!"

But Lily was not interested in his excuses. "Oh yes you are! Targeting Rose like that – imagine if someone was bullying Sirius in the same way. You'd be furious, and rightly so!"

Sirius managed to say, "What on earth has this got to do with me?" before he was cut off.

"Bullying?" said James hotly. He advanced towards Lily (a brave move under the circumstances). "That was not bulling! That was justice!"

Lily scoffed indignantly. Severus, who along with Leah was watching out of sight from behind a suit of armour, physically gagged. "Justice? Well, I would hate to live in a world dictated by your warped sense of justice, where you pick on people for something that isn't even true!" She rounded on Sirius, who couldn't help but swallow nervously. "And you! I would have thought you of all people would have some more sympathy for Rose!"

Sirius actually laughed. "Me of all people? I don't remember ever hanging around with people like Dolohov –"

"No, but I would have thought that you would remember what it feels like to be torn between your house and your family!"

A hush fell over the corridor. Sirius had gone very white. "I would keep your mouth shut if I were you."

His voice was harsh, so harsh that James actually winced, but Lily wasn't fazed. "Gladly. I've wasted enough energy talking to you lot as it is."

And with that, she turned around, her hair flying behind her, and flounced away, leaving the three boys stood there, mouths wide open. Severus and Leah quickly hurried after her.

Remus was aware that he had a neighbour in the Hospital Wing. In fact, he found it quite stressful having someone so close. What if they caught sight of him when he was leaving tomorrow? What if his secret was revealed out of some random coincidence and he had to leave Hogwarts forever?

Thankfully, it seemed that his neighbour was quite unconscious. He could hear Madame Pomfrey bustle in and out of the curtains next door every now and then, muttering under her breath, but there was never a response. When she came to do her hourly checks on him, she seemed even more hassled than usual, applying murtlap essence to his new scars with more force than was necessary. He wanted to ask what exactly was wrong, but thought she probably wouldn't tell him anyway, as a matter of privacy.

As it happened, Remus would not have to wonder long, because only a few hours after the new guest had arrived in the hospital wing, an incident occurred. With quite the commotion, Remus heard the tell-tale sounds of people entering the hospital wing, shouting and exclaiming. Remus was so shocked, in fact, that he almost dropped his ink pot – he had been working on his Transfiguration homework to pass the time before Madam Pomfrey finally discharged him.

"Where is she?"

It was an unfamiliar voice that was more like a bark, and Remus couldn't help but notice that it had somewhat triggered his fight or flight response – his heartrate had sped up significantly.

"What on earth is going on here!" cried Madam Pomfrey, though no one answered her.

"Please, Mr Prewett –" said a voice that was by contrast to everyone else very calm, if terse, which had to be Dumbledore. Remus' brain was whirring at a thousand miles per hour. Mr Prewett? Was his neighbour – could his neighbour be Rose? "– there are other patients, and I would prefer it if you did not disturb them –"

"Forget your other students, Dumbledore –" Mr Prewett spat, "– I want to know that my daughter is safe before I get around to telling you exactly what I think about the way you run this school –"

His voice came out in short bursts of fury, interspersed only by some rageful breaths and the sound of his feet stomping across the floor. Remus couldn't help but subconsciously sink further back into his pillows as Dumbledore and the stranger approached, even though he knew the party had no interest in entering his cubicle. His tension reached its height as the footsteps stopped perilously close to his curtains – but then he heard the sound of his neighbour's curtains being ripped open, not his own, and he let out a silent sigh of relief.

"Merlin's beard," said Mr Prewett, rather softly, "what did they do to you?"

"As I said before, Mr Prewett," said Dumbledore tersely, as though he had been forced to have this conversation many times, "the two students in question did not in fact do anything to your daughter to cause physical harm. Isn't that right, Horace?"

Professor Slughorn, who Remus had not realised was part of the group, cleared his throat and hurriedly answered, "Oh yes, yes. And might I add," he said, suddenly a tad reproachful, "that these are Gryffindor students we're talking about. Not Slytherin."

"Was this not also followed by some verbal abuse from the Slytherin boys?" Dumbledore said archly, a hint of a warning in his voice that Slughorn clearly picked up on, because he soon backtracked.

"Oh, yes, yes," he murmured, but Remus heard him whisper under his breath, "But it was definitely Potter and Black who started it."

Lupin's breath caught in his throat. Potter and Black? Fury boiled in his chest as he wondered what on earth James and Sirius had done now. Mr Prewett didn't appear to be listening to anyone anymore. He was abnormally quiet, which finally gave Madam Pomfrey a chance to speak.

"You really shouldn't be so loud – the girl needs rest."

"What the girl needs is to be far away from this school," Mr Prewett growled, before barking, "How are her vitals? Her temperature? Her blood pressure?"

"About as well as one can expect when suffering from a malediction!"

Remus had to suppress the urge to gasp, and somehow knew that everyone else in the room had felt the exact same thing. He felt dirty, almost, to be listening in on such a private conversation. But how could he have avoided it? It wasn't as if he could lose his hearing on a whim, and none of them had made any effort to keep their voices down. And what was he going to do with this information now? Rose had a malediction (some kind of blood curse, he knew, from his Defence Against the Dark Arts studies) – but what did that even mean? His transfiguration essay had fallen to the ground, but he hadn't even noticed. Was she going to die?

It was a little while before anyone spoke, and then Mr Prewett growled, "I beg your pardon?"

"Mr Prewett," said Dumbledore in a conciliatory sort of tone, "I appreciate that this is a delicate situation, and not one you wish to discuss, but I must insist that you take your daughter to St. Mungo's for an official diagnosis – if not for her sake, then for the sake of the other children at this school who are in danger while Miss Prewett remains untreated."

"In danger!" Mr Prewett scoffed. It was an empty sound. "I don't know where this 'malediction' nonsense is coming from, but there is no record of curses in my family, so I would thank you to keep your ridiculous assumptions to yourselves."

"Mr Prewett, Madam Pomfrey is a very qualified witch –"

"If she is so qualified, then why does she need a second opinion from St. Mungo's?"

Dumbledore let out a deep sigh. "Mr Prewett – I am begging you to see reason."

But Mr Prewett seemed determined to do nothing of the sort. "I have to get back to work, if she's stable – I assume she is, if you've not sent her to hospital already. My department are struggling to cope enough as it is. You will, of course, tell me if anything changes with her condition." He paused, and then added coolly. "And to let me know exactly how the perpetrators of this hilarious prank are being punished – and if it is not to my satisfaction, you may find that Rose is removed from this school entirely."

It was amazing to see how quickly he had shifted from furious, protective father to defensive and cold businessman. Dumbledore's voice when he finally replied very well was icier than normal.

"As you wish. Professor Slughorn, could you please see our guest out?"

Not another word was said as the guest was escorted out of the hospital wing, leaving only four people behind – two patients, Madam Pomfrey, and the headmaster himself. Madam Pomfrey sniffed, and Remus had the startling realisation that she may well be on the brink of tears.

"It's absurd! To put his daughter's life at risk like that – and for what? Pride?"

"Quite," said Dumbledore gravely. "We will have to do the best we can for her for now, and hope that Mr Prewett changes his mind sooner rather than later." He cleared his throat slightly. "As for this moment, I fear we may have a greater problem at hand?"

"A greater problem?" Madam Pomfrey's voice was faint, as though she did not feel she could handle a greater problem at that minute.

"Indeed, indeed… Mr Lupin, exactly how much of that conversation did you hear?"

Remus' throat became very dry all of a sudden, and it took a great deal of effort for him to force out the words, "More than I should have."

There was a gentle chuckle, quite disjointed from the recent events, and a few seconds later Remus' curtains were twitched apart to reveal the smiling countenance of Professor Dumbledore himself. He had on a cheery expression, but Remus did not miss the lines of strain etched into his face.

"How are you?" the older man asked kindly, coming around to sit in the chair at his bedside. Madam Pomfrey must have taken her leave, because she did not follow him in.

Remus shrugged. He could feel his cheeks reddening, and that only embarrassed him more. "Oh, uh… fine, I think. Madam Pomfrey said I could leave tomorrow."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully as he bent down to retrieve Remus' neglected essay. He read the first few lines with interest. "Good, good. I should imagine you'll need to finish this essay then, unless you want to spend your first days of freedom trapped in detention with Professor McGonagall."

Remus let out a small smile. They both knew that Remus was given a lot of leeway when it came to late homework, but he tried not to abuse it. Dumbledore had an unnerving talent of putting people at ease, but there were some questions that the boy could not just sit on, and as he took his parchment back, he said haltingly, "Is Rose – is Rose going to be okay?"

Dumbledore's face immediately became sombre, and Remus regretted saying anything. The headmaster looked unusually old. "Under Madam Pomfrey's care, she should be fine, just like you. However, just like you, she is also very sick."

Remus fiddled with his fingers, unable to meet Dumbledore's gaze. Dumbledore, however, was watching him closely, his eyes piercing.

"Mr Lupin, you are friends with Miss Prewett, am I correct?"

Remus blushed again. "I – well I was. Briefly. I maybe still am. I'm not sure."

Dumbledore, who surely knew a little of the situation, seemed to find this satisfactory. "Friendships can be difficult to navigate – but I wonder if you have ever noticed Miss Prewett displaying any unusual affinity for magic? Anything that seemed much beyond her years?"

At last Remus looked up, his interest piqued, and he made contact with Dumbledore's bright blue eyes. "Yes! She can perform wandless and nonverbal spells."

"Like this?" Dumbledore flicked his left wrist and Remus' overnight bag at the foot of the bed raised a few feet of the ground.

"Yes, exactly!"

Dumbledore nodded, as he let the bag fall gently to the ground again and began stroking his beard. Remus, who had for a second felt useful, now shrunk back into himself. What did this all mean?

As though reading his mind, the headmaster smiled wanly and said, "I hope you understand, Remus, that I cannot divulge anymore information to you? To do so would be equivalent to sharing your secret with Miss Prewett, and I am certain that you would not want that."

The very thought made Remus sick to his stomach. He shook his head. He couldn't meet Dumbledore's eyes, but he got the feeling that there was pity in them.

"Is there anything else you wanted to ask me, while you have the opportunity?"

Remus was going to say no – he felt he'd learnt quite enough for the day, and his scars were beginning to sting – but then something resurfaced in his mind. "Actually, there was. I wondered if James and Sirius – did they –?"

He found it impossible to put his fear into words. It felt like a betrayal of his friends. Thankfully, Dumbledore understood him well enough.

"Did your friends hurt Miss Prewett?" Remus nodded silently and the headmaster sighed. "Physically, no. But I fear they may have done some emotional damage. I have no doubt that they feel they were acting nobly, but the noblest of actions may sometimes be misguided." Remus' face was stony, and it may have been for that reason that Professor Dumbledore added, "However, they have been good friends to you, and we all make mistakes. I think if you were to talk to them about the Miss Prewett you know, then they may see the error of their ways."

Remus didn't want to acknowledge this, so he simply said, "I'll try. Thank you, sir."

"Not at all." The headmaster rose from his chair, sending the boy a kindly smile. "And remember – there are always people here to help you, should you feel lost."

He slipped out between the curtains, with a small wave. Remus knew he should feel comforted, but he just felt more anxious. His best friends were his world, but their animosity towards Rose was pulling their group apart. Meanwhile Rose – strange but intriguing Rose Prewett – was lying in a hospital bed next door as a direct result of their actions. And yet, he hadn't known her that long. Could he really choose her over his best friends?

The cut along his neck twinged again. This could all wait until tomorrow, as he could not do anything until then anyway. For now, he needed to finish his Transfiguration essay.