Chapter Sixteen: Or "How Lily Became a Revolutionary"

The atmosphere around school was still very subdued, for the most part, over the next few days. Girls were still red eyed, boys were more serious, even the staff seemed unusually sombre - and the papers were filled with speculation and gossip, but surprisingly little substance.

It is believed that it was their final song which brought about their untimely end. A pro-muggleborn anthem, it was said by many to be provocative and unnecessary. "It sowed discord between magic peoples while promoting a way of life that does not fit in with our values" said one concerned parent, Abraxas Malfoy, 52.

The Kneazles often appeared on the youth music show "Wiz Hits Top 40" where they made political statements directly to young and impressionable listeners and derided tradition, in an attempt to upend the fabric of our society. It seems as if "I'm glad I'm Muggleborn" was the final straw for those with the morals of our youth in mind.

'I don't understand it,' Lily said, throwing down the morning edition of The Prophet, on Friday, 'they're making it sound like it was The Kneazles' fault they were killed, like they brought this on themselves.'

But worse was to follow in the Sunday papers:

Not content with extolling the virtues of the muggle world, their brand of "Rock and Roll" music and the superiority of those wizards born with "new blood", The Kneazles also went out of their way to mock and deride those they disagreed with. Their attempts to besmirch those who politically opposed them, and ridicule upstanding and important members of our society, upset many wizards who, quite rightly, feel ours is a society where authority and tradition should be respected.

"It is not the magical way to poke fun at private citizens, to stir up trouble in public because you disagree with someone" says Abraxas Malfoy, 52. "Perhaps we cannot expect muggleborns to know this, perhaps it is the muggle way. But in our world, the actions of The Kneazles were pernicious, dangerous and not public spirited."

Up in the common room, in their favourite spot by the fire, the four Gryffindor boys read this article with a sense of growing unease - turning to outright dismay. 'But these are lies!' James said in disgust. 'The Kneazles never said muggleborns were better than anyone else. What is The Prophet doing, reporting it this way?'

'This must be what people want to read,' Peter told him.

'What's that got to do with it? Papers exist to tell the truth, not tell people what they want to hear.'

'No - they exist to sell themselves. To make money. People are more likely to buy a paper if they agree with it.'

Sirius snorted. 'But why would anyone agree with this total rubbish?'

'The Dark Lord's supporters will agree with it.'

'And who cares what they think?' His glower was so dark and fierce that Peter quailed and shook his head, backing out of the conversation. But Remus took over for him.

'The Paper cares. There's hundreds of them - you heard on the "Quarter Past Two News" how many people had written in to say they were joining the Knights. He's meant to have a thousand followers, and - for everyone that's signed up - there'll be someone who agrees but hasn't joined yet.'

'Fine - he has two thousand berks who agree with him. That's still only 50/50 - why isn't the paper more balanced?'

'Because they're scared - and so is the other 50%. No one wants to cross Lord Voldemort - not after what happened to The Kneazles. And the more the paper prints stuff like this, the less anyone will say, the more they will back away - maybe even start to agree with Voldemort.'

And it seemed like, between them, Remus and Peter had it right. By Monday, The Prophet was printing what were close to personal attacks on the characters of The Kneazles:

Why did four young men all live in one house together anyway? A question never successfully explained, but an action which suggests the band were involved in illicit and immoral goings on that rendered them unfit to be role models to children.

And it was plain that people, even inside the castle, were starting to back away from their previous following of The Kneazles. In the days immediately after the attack, the school had been awash with students in band t-shirts, or wearing badges, or sporting some other merch to show their love for and pay their respects to the four murdered men.

But slowly, and one by one, as the paper printed more and more stories piling the blame for their demise on The Kneazles themselves, the t-shirts were retired, the badges stashed away and all traces of the band were scrubbed from the school. Even the old graffiti began to disappear.

And, more and more, "Mudblood Out" was being painted onto walls again.

'They really are backing away,' Sirius said in disbelief, one wet breaktime, as they saw Linda Lively of Ravenclaw finish reading the paper, in the classroom they were all crushed inside, and promptly take off her Kneazles badge and throw it in the wastepaper basket, with a furtive glance over her shoulder - as if to make sure no one had seen and would know she used to like the band.

'Not Evans though,' James said. 'She isn't backing off at all.' He sounded mildly impressed, as he said it. Across the room, Lily went to the bin, took out the badge and pinned it to her own robes, glaring at Linda the whole time.

Linda looked away.

Lily had quite a collection of thrown away pins and badges now, her robes were so covered that she jangled and clanked as she walked. And she was scrawling fresh Kneazles graffiti on the walls just as quickly as the old stuff was vanishing.

She was also taking a leaf out of Benjy Fenwick's book and was scratching

You Know Who Did It

All over the castle with her wand.

She drew The Kneazles symbol on the mirrors in the girls toilets' with her lipstick, painted it on the outside of the Astronomy Tower and somehow (and no one quite knew how) scaled the walls and daubed it onto the stones so it was eye height for everyone coming down the marble staircase, and illuminated by the chandelier above the hallway. ('It's like she's part spider monkey or something,' James said, sounding more than a little awed. 'And how did she do it without anyone seeing her?')

She was also getting into fights - fist fights, scraps, duels - anyone she heard quoting The Prophet, or blaming the band for their own deaths, got a taste of her wand. And for all she was impressing James (not that he would ever admit that), she was making herself a great deal of enemies around school. After she had been sent to the Hospital Wing before break, and then been put into detention for putting someone else in the Hospital Wing by lunch, even her friends began to suggest that maybe she should keep her head down and stop fighting so hard.

But she refused. And she felt like she had good reason to. For she was not the only student being put in the Hospital Wing. Just as "Mudblood Out" graffiti was creeping up once more, so too were attacks on muggleborns; little things, nasty things - nothing too dangerous but just enough to let those of muggle birth know they were not welcome in the castle. Sandy Lewis was hit by a bat bogey hex while she worked in the library, Callum Brown was found stunned and shoved inside a suit of armour, and Deborah Davies in sixth year was rescued from the twisting vines of the venomous tentacular - she had been shoved from behind and fallen into the plant, and things would have been a lot more serious had Professor Sprout not heard her screams.

But, for every muggleborn who kept their head down, Lily would get into two duels and, for every hex cast in her direction, she would cast three in return. She fought back - hard - and the whole time could not be made to be quiet about The Kneazles, or the Dark Lord, or the cowardice of the paper and everyone who believed what they read.

'You'll get yourself hurt,' Mandy told her worriedly, when Lily hit Natasha Perell of Slytherin with a stinging jinx, after Natasha had called Connie Bidwell a "mudblood".

'I don't care,' she replied, and cast a stinging jinx at Leticia Zabini for good measure.

'You'll get yourself expelled ,' Petra said, when Lily's well timed tripping jinx caused Gaius Avery to tumble down the stairs and break his arm, after he had just jinxed some second years in the corridor.

'It will be worth it,' she said, and turned her back and began carving

You Know Who Did It!

Into the walls beside the prefects' bathroom, humming the tune to " I'm Glad I'm Muggleborn" as she worked.

Over the next few days, the nasty incidents continued, growing ever nastier, and Lily continued to fight back ('She just doesn't give ground, does she?' James whispered) and it was hard to tell who disliked her more; the open followers of Voldemort, or the ex-Kneazle fans her actions were so constantly shaming. She would march through the corridor, her wand ever ready for the next attack, while her friends scurried along in her wake trying to keep their own heads down.

The days darkened. Almost hour by hour, someone else would get sent to the Infirmary - and Lily would ask furious questions until she found a culprit and got her own back, or else would carve more anti-Dark Lord messages into the walls of the school. But, no matter how hard she fought, more and more muggleborns were still being attacked.

Things seemed to reach boiling point on Friday, around lunchtime, when a commotion from the returning Herbology class brought everyone out of the Great Hall and onto the front lawn to see what all the fuss was about.

At first, Remus couldn't quite work out what he was looking at - or why it was causing so much consternation. It looked like two large helium balloons had been tied to the weather vane on the top of the west spire. They were bobbing around and gently bumping into each other.

'That's sick,' he heard a seventh year say, from behind him. 'Why would anybody…'

He frowned. Madam Hooch came hurrying up from the Quidditch pitch with her flying class, she mounted her broom and flew up to the spire, her wand poised and ready.

'She'll have to be careful,' Remus heard the seventh year mutter.

Professor McGonagall came out of the oak front doors, looked up, gave a cry and then called: 'I'm ready when you are, Rolanda.' She raised her wand.

Remus raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, and noticed that the helium balloons were not completely round, as he had first thought. There were four bits sticking out and then a bobbly bit at the top. 'What the -?'

'That's absolutely vile ,' he heard Lily say… and then, just as Madam Hooch cut the strings and Professor McGonagall guided the "balloons" back down to the ground, it clicked in his brain - what he was looking at.

They were students.

Only quite small ones by the looks of things. Probably first years. Probably muggleborn. And they had been transmogrified, swollen up so as to be almost spherical and then tied to the roof to float - like the blimps that sometimes drifted over muggle towns. It was even more horrible than what had been done to Mrs. Norris - and the poor students were no doubt even more distressed than she had been. The seventh year had it right: It was sick.

Between them, Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch got the transmogrified students safely down to the ground, and then rushed them inside towards the Hospital Wing. The rest of the students just stood there, in a crowd, murmuring among themselves.

A group of Slytherins - which included Snape and Regulus - began to snigger. Lily pulled her wand out. 'One of you did this!' she accused them. Her face was furious. 'It was disgusting and vile and…'

'Wasn't us,' Mulciber smirked, holding his hands up as if to prove his innocence. 'We're not the ones with form for transmogrifying and hanging…' he pretended to think. 'Seems like one of your lot's got form for that though.'

'What on earth are you saying?' her voice was cold and dangerous.

'I'm saying this looks like the work of Barking Mad Black, to me.'

All eyes, which had been focused on Lily and Mulciber, whipped around and stared at Sirius instead. Sirius went red. James pulled his wand out. 'Take that back!' he roared.

But Mulciber only laughed. 'He's the nutter here, who else would have done it?'

James tried to fire off a curse, but was interrupted in his incantation by Lily's voice - which at that moment sounded more cutting than a lacerating hex. 'Don't be so ridiculous,' she said to Mulciber. 'Black didn't do this.' She turned and spoke to the rest of the watching crowd. 'Black doesn't hate muggle borns…' She told them all, matter of factly, and then she turned back to the Slytherins and arched an eyebrow. 'At least, not the Gryffindor Black.'

She then shouldered her way through the crowd and headed back into the castle. 'I will find out who's responsible,' she fired back at the Slytherins as a parting shot.

'I will find out who's responsible,' Natasha Perell sneered, mimicking her, and the Slytherins all put their heads together, as if discussing how best to teach that "jumped up little mudblood" a lesson.

The rest of the crowd dispersed.

'Lily had better watch her back,' Remus said, eyeing the whispering Slytherins. 'They've got it in for her. If she's not careful, it'll be her floating above the castle next time.'

'She was amazing, though, wasn't she?' James said as the boys headed back into the Great Hall, to finish their interrupted lunch. 'I mean,' he slid onto his bench and picked up his abandoned fork. There was still a half eaten roast potato skewered on the end of it. 'She doesn't like you, Sirius,' he pointed his fork (potato and all) at his friend. 'We can't deny it. She thinks you're a prize wally - and that's putting it politely.'

'Thanks, mate.'

'And she probably thinks you're a nutter. Literally everyone in the castle believes that.'

'Is this going somewhere?'

'But she still stood up for you. Stood her ground. She wouldn't let them pin the blame on you, even though you're a total berk - '

'Oi!'

'- Because it wouldn't be right . And she stands up for what she thinks is right, does Evans. You've got to hand it to her … she's amazing.'

The other three boys shared a secret smile.

'What are you three grinning at?'

'Nothing,' Peter said.

…

Transfiguration was cancelled that afternoon, presumably as Professor McGonagall was still dealing with the Transmogrified students, so the boys had an unexpected hour off. When they arrived outside of Defence Against the Dark Arts it was to find most of the class already gathered there; Lily was scratching

You Know Who Did It!

Into the walls, and Tulip Khan and Megan Lawson had their heads together, and seemed to be muttering about her. She threw them a dirty look and continued her work . They muttered some more.

'If you have something to say…' Lily said rather pointedly. Her voice was brittle. There was more murmuring, more staring - from more corners than the two girls - but no one said anything. 'It seems to me if you don't have the courage to still be a Kneazles fan, you should at least have the courage to say why… There seems to be an awful lack of that around at the minute, though.'

'Give it a rest, Lils,' Petra said to her, sounding rather weary.

Lily whirled around and glared at her friend. ' What? '

'I said - you know, just for a bit - give it a rest.'

'Have you seen what is happening in the castle?'

Red splotches had appeared on Petra's cheeks. 'Yes. But you're not making the situation any better. You're just painting a target on your own back.'

'I didn't paint a target on my back. Mortal Love Rodd did!'

There was an intake of breath. ' Don't call him that ,' Petra hissed, sounding genuinely frightened. But Lily carried on as if there had been no interruption;

'I'm in danger here, whether I keep my head down or not. So I'm not going to play their game. I'm not going to pretend I don't exist, or forget about Bobby, or let these muggle haters get away with what they're doing. And anyone who does - who backs away and pretends it isn't happening - ought to be ashamed of themselves. They are letting it happen. But then I suppose you have the luxury to "give it a rest" - you're not muggleborn.'

The whole class stared silently and expectantly between the two girls. Petra looked as if Lily had just slapped her. Her face had gone white and her eyes were shining in the dark corridor. 'It's not all about you,' she bit back. 'You're not the only one suffering under… ' she nodded at the graffiti ' You Know Who. My Uncle Ciaran was one of the first to disappear, two years ago - or had you just forgotten about that, Lily? And Tulip's aunty has gone as well. And you might have the "luxury" to think this is only just happening, or that The Kneazles are the first big loss - but they're not.'

Lily looked staggered for a moment, like she wasn't sure what to say. But then she regained her composure and her face hardened. 'Your uncle was a pureblood - and he didn't do anything wrong. And he still wasn't safe. Doesn't that tell you I'm right? That no one can afford to pretend this isn't happening. We all have to fight against this or else we're all in the firing line. We all have to do what's right - that's what The Kneazles taught us.'

' The Kneazles are dead! ' (there was another collective gasp around the hallway) 'And this is what all this is about, for you,' Petra continued - her voice quieter but no less furious. 'You're doing all this so that you don't have to face the truth.'

'What truth?'

'That - if we hadn't sent them that magazine, if we hadn't encouraged them to write that song - your song - The Kneazles would still be alive. We killed them! That's what you're hiding from! That they wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for us!'

The resounding, stinging sound of a smack echoed through the corridor, as Lily really did slap her this time. Petra had a bright, red handprint on her cheek - and then both girls were crying, and the whole place was silent except for the sound of their tears … and then the door to the Defence classroom creaked open.

Dumbledore stood framed in the doorway and, with the lights of the classroom behind him, he seemed like an oddly impressive sight. The girls choked off their cries, and the sudden silence rang even louder than their fight had. 'Everyone come inside,' Dumbledore said quietly, 'and take a seat.'

…

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and surveyed the students over his steepled finger tips as they took their own seats. Lily and Petra were very subdued and red around the eyes.

'I know the events from this past month - the giants, and then the untimely death of those young wizards you were all so fond of - has come as a great shock to you all,' he said, once everyone was settled and quiet. Silence reigned around the room, and all eyes were trained on the Head Master.

'For some of you, the death of The Kneazles may be your first experience of loss, the first blow you have really felt in these dark times,' he nodded at Lily. 'And for some of you, you have already felt loss and grief at the hands of Lord Voldemort.' He nodded at Petra, and Tulip - and then at Remus.

An involuntary shudder seemed to go around the room as he spoke Voldemort's name but, if he noticed, Dumbledore did not mention it. 'Perhaps the Ministry of Magic would not like me to be so blunt with you, to lay the blame so openly at the so-called Dark Lord's door. Perhaps they would prefer me to shield the truth from you, or tell you that - without proof - we cannot make accusations. But we all, here, know the truth - and I will not insult you by coddling you - we all know what Voldemort stands for, and we begin to have an inkling of what he is capable of.'

There was another shudder.

'The Kneazles were well aware of this too. And they stood against it. They knew speaking out put them in danger, but nevertheless they still chose to do so. Perhaps they did not realise the full extent of the risk they were running, but it is to undermine them - to insult their bravery and intelligence - to suggest they did not know there was a risk or that they did not accept that risk fully. They were grown men, responsible for their own decisions, and they made the decision to take a stand. No one made them do it, no one is responsible for their actions other than them. And no one is responsible for their deaths other than those who killed them.'

He sighed deeply. 'There are dark days ahead of us,' he told the class. 'I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I cannot. And we must face what is coming if we hope to beat it. But the true power of the Dark Lord lies not in his magic, but in his power to sow dissent, discord and distrust among those who oppose him. By dividing his enemies, he weakens them - and this is what he will seek to do. And fear will be his weapon. We must not let our fear drive a wedge between us.

'In the coming months - and years - we may disagree among ourselves as to how best to defeat this ideology that threatens us. We may have different ideas on how best this war is to be won. But we can not allow these differences in opinion to be our undoing. We can only act as our individual conscience sees fit, live up to our own lights, fight in our own way - and allow others to do the same.

'And while we can seek to change hearts and minds, we cannot force others to fall in line. Though are opinions may differ, though our fear may be greater or smaller, our anger more or less intense, we still all share the same wish for a peaceful and equitable world. We have far more in common than that which divides us, and it is how we are the same that will matter in the end. The Dark Lord will seek to stoke our divisions. No matter how high our passions may run, or how afraid we may feel in the face of the darkness, we cannot allow ourselves to be divided, for that will be our undoing. Now…'

He pulled a textbook towards himself. 'Onto today's lesson - how to defeat a Basilisk…'

There was a moment of stillness, as everyone digested his words, and then a rustling, as the class began to dig in their bags, take out their books and turn to the correct page. Ten minutes later, they were quietly making notes on the effects the cockerel's crow would have on a giant serpent.

A while later, Lily tore off a scrap of parchment - scribbled something down and then handed it to Petra:

I'm sorry

Petra scribbled back:

Me too

And then:

We didn't kill The Kneazles

I know

Lily replied. Petra took the note again.

Are you still going to fight?

She asked.

Yes.

…

'But I'm going to be more clever about it,' Lily told her friends, once the bell had rung and they were making their way down to the Great Hall for tea. 'You're right, Petra - I've been too in everyone's face. I've been pissing them off. And I thought that meant I was fighting harder - getting results - but really I'm just driving people away.'

She pushed her way through a crowd of seventh years, elbowing Head Boy Benjy Fenwick out of her way, as she went, but she was too caught up in her new plan to notice. 'We can still use the magazine as a platform. But we need to be more subtle about it. My mum always says you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. If we make it all about - well - You Know Who , people will stop reading. But if we just slip the occasional bit in there, hidden among the pimple cream and fashion advice, we can still reach our audience.'

She came to a stop by the tapestry of Frederica the Fearsome and nipped into the alcove behind it. 'Here,' she began to unpin the rescued badges she had plastered across her robes, until she only had one left. 'Take these up to the dorm for me, will you?' she dumped them in her friends' hands.

'Where are you going?'

'To Sev,' she pushed her way back past the tapestry. 'I haven't spoken to him in ages,' she called over her shoulder as she walked away. 'And Dumbledore's right - we can't allow all this to divide us.'

The three girls watched her go. 'She's fighting a losing battle on that front,' Mary said.

…

Slowly, the days grew longer, brighter and sunnier. The world turned, the school settled back down, flowers bloomed, birds sang and spring gave way to early summer. And this meant that the Quidditch final was upon them.

'It's still all to play for,' Bethany Ellshaw told the Gryffindor team in her pre-practice speech, a couple of days before they were due to face Slytherin. 'Hufflepuff are in the lead right now - they've won two and lost one. And Ravenclaw are out of the running.'

'Good,' James said quietly, thinking of what a total twit Ellis Stebbins was.

'The Slytherins and ourselves have both won one match and lost the other one. That means all positions on the league table are open. We can still win this thing - or we can still place last. Now, Hufflepuff are way out in front. In order to come top, we have to get at least three hundred points during the game. And it's even worse for the Slytherins - they'll need three hundred and thirty points to win the cup. This means a lot is going to rest on the chasers - it'll probably be a dirty match - and the seekers will have to hold fire until enough goals have been scored to take us over the line. Luckily for Jenny, she and Black are in the same boat - neither are going to want the snitch for a good while - so it won't be like last year where she had to keep blocking. So - tactics…'

And she went on to draw a complicated diagram on the board with lots of little lines and moving dots, which made half the team go cross eyed and the other half fall asleep. After about an hour, they finally went out to practice.

…

The morning of the match dawned crisp and clear, and the team headed out to the changing rooms in good spirits. 'Good conditions,' Beth told them, 'the pitch is nice and springy - should get a good broom up; sun's a bit bright - try to fly away from it, make the Slytherins play towards it, and Jenny - hold off that snitch until we've scored at least fifteen goals. Come on.'

They went into the changing rooms and got into their Quidditch robes and, when they came back out onto the pitch, the stadium was full and humming with anticipation. Madam Hooch's whistle blew - and they were off. James snatched the quaffle from the air and scored before the end of the first minute. The Gryffindors in the crowd went wild.

Then the Slytherins had the quaffle, but a well timed bludger from Levey caused Elijah Smeeks to drop it. Petra grabbed it and zoomed towards the Slytherin goal, only for their keeper to block her from scoring. The Gryffindor crowd groaned.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew - and they played on.

Meanwhile, Jenny was doing laps of the stadium. There was no sign of the snitch yet and - even if there was - an early catch would only hand the cup to Hufflepuff. Black flew past her, going in the other direction, but she ignored him - he did not want the snitch yet any more than she did. She took her broom into a dive and then flew along almost at ground level, letting her toes trail in the grass of the pitch. High above her, she heard James score again.

And then she saw a flash of gold and a flutter of wings. The snitch was hovering at the foot of the Slytherin goal post - but it was too early by far to catch it. She was about to turn her broom in the other direction, when she suddenly caught sight of something which made her heart plummet.

Black had seen the snitch too and - instead of ignoring it, which he must have been told to do - he was diving towards it, his hand reaching out and a look of supreme triumph on his face.

'BLACK - NO!' Jenny yelled.

High above them the game came to a stop as everyone looked to see what the bother was.

The Slytherin team started to yell as well, and so did the Slytherin supporters. But it seemed like all the clamour in the world was not breaking through to Regulus - as he zoomed to the ground ready to grasp what he thought was victory.

Up in the stands, Sirius felt like he was almost watching in slow motion: the glittering snitch hovering just inches above the pitch and his brother flying straight at it… And then Regulus's outstretched hand had fastened tight around the tiny snitch, he had it gripped in his fist and was pulling out of his dive a look of pure smugness on his face … only to be met by a stony wall of silence from the Slytherin fans.

If Regulus hadn't been such a prize berk, Sirius might have felt a glimmer of pity for his brother as he saw his expression waver from one of triumph and become unsure. But as it was: 'What a total tosspot,' he snorted, while Remus and Peter snickered into their sleeves.

'I DON'T BELIEVE IT,' the commentator announced. 'AN EARLY CATCH OF THE SNITCH MEANS SLYTHERIN WIN 150-20 BUT HUFFLEPUFF TAKE THE CUP!'

And across the stadium, the Hufflepuffs started screaming and cheering and waving their scarves, the team made their way down to the pitch to collect the cup from Dumbledore, while the players from today's match made their way back to earth, feeling cheated and rather bitter.

And the whole time, Regulus hovered in the sky … wondering exactly what had gone wrong.

…

The mood in the Gryffindor common room was rather subdued that evening (apart from Sirius, who was jubilant: 'Just goes to show - you can buy your way onto a team but you can't buy talent!', and Remus and Peter, who were torn between being disappointed for James and laughing at Sirius's delight).

The team themselves were particularly gloomy. They had come in third, which they did not think reflected on how well they had played this season. 'That stupid git!' James said for the hundredth time. 'What was he doing catching the snitch that early? He gave it to Hufflepuff on a plate!'

'There's always next year', Belvedere Johnson said, looking worriedly at Beth, who had not said anything all night and seemed to be sinking into a form of quiet despair. 'We're the best team - we're bound to have better luck next year.'

'And maybe by then Slytherin will have got themselves a seeker who can do simple addition,' Jenny added darkly.

…

But if things were glum in Gryffindor Tower, then down in the Slytherin Dungeon they were positively stony.

Nobody had spoken to Reg all evening, and in the end he went and hid in the dorms, read his scrapbook about the Dark Lord, for comfort, and wondered whether he dared tell Walburga he was resigning from the team.

…

True to her word, Lily had gone much quieter on The Kneazles front. She had made up with Sev and was not getting into fights every two minutes. But she was also determined that she would use Sabrina13 as a platform to remind her schoolmates of the truth of the current situation they faced. She would make them think - even if they didn't want to.

So, when he woke up in the Hospital Wing after the next full moon, Remus found that, this month, the magazine was back to its regular self. There was an article on Pimple Popping Potions, a write up of the Quidditch final (Petra had gone all in on Reg's humiliation, she was - after all - still smarting from the loss of the cup) and a piece from Mandy about accessorising your school robes in a way that wouldn't land you in detention. Mary had written 15 Steps To Getting the Boy of Your Dreams to Ask You Out (which seemed like rather a lot of steps to Remus) and Lily had written a horoscope for the Geminis in the castle, telling them they could expect a run of good luck academic wise, but to look out for nasty burns on the 10th.

And then - on the next page - he found another poem sent in by the anonymous writer from before.

We Say We're Different

We say we're different, us magic kind

That our spells make us of sounder mind

We hide away, are hard to find

And laugh at them and call them blind.

We say we're different, we have a wand

That magic is a brother's bond

That those without we are beyond

We an ocean, them just a pond

We say we're different, with our charms

Our healing potions and our balms

Not like them, wizards can fix our harms

"Not like them" becomes our call to arms

We say we're different because we fly

Our broomsticks circling in the sky

But magic or no, mothers still cry

When their young men are sent to die.

We say we're different, our blood so pure

Of our higher place we are so sure

And yet just like them, we now face war

A sameness even death can't cure.

-Anon

There was no commentary to go with it, not even any acknowledgement it was there. It just was. Published between the horoscopes and that issue's edition of Dear Dianella. It felt almost like you could blink and miss it, except - somehow - its quiet placement made the poem all the more deafening.

It served as a simple reminder among the fluff and boys and beauty products: This is still happening; we are still fighting - and so should you be.

And the poem, and the reminder of the war which was brewing, rattled around in Remus's mind long after he had left the Hospital Wing, abandoned the magazine and forgotten everything else he had read in it.

…

Shortly after the full moon had passed, the exam season started and the castle fell into an unnatural quiet, as students feverishly leafed through their textbooks for last minute revision, and tried to cudgel tired brains into remembering how to brew a Scintillating Potion or deflect an Ear Twitching Hex.

Sirius remained in high spirits (the memory of his brother making a prize wally of himself in front of the school was probably going to sustain him right the way through the summer hols) but the strain was starting to get to the other third years. Peter had chewed his fingernails to the quick, Muriel Gimlet of Slytherin had hexed Natasha Perell for "breathing too loudly" while she tried to work, and Dahlia Meadows had started pacing the halls at night, muttering to herself and practising wand work while her wand was safely left behind in the Hufflepuff common room.

Even Snape seemed to be more ruffled than usual. His normally wan face was even more bloodless and unhealthy looking than ever before. He hid behind his curtain of greasy hair, glowering at people, and he stormed through the corridors, pushing other students out of the way and snapping at them like a rottweiler with a sore head.

The boys ran into him as they left their Charms exam (feeling generally well, and contented with the world, as they had been doing Cheering Charms - though Peter had rather overdone his and so Remus was just on the cusp of hysteria). Snape was reading through his Potions notes as he walked through the corridors, his large nose barely an inch away from the parchment.

'He'll be leaving great big grease spots on it,' James giggled - overly loud, because the Cheering Charm made him too mellow to whisper. Snape frowned and came to a stop - and Peter bumped into him.

'Oops - sorry, Snivelly.'

'Watch where you're going, you fat, little oaf!' He cuffed Peter around the ear. Peter blinked at him in surprise.

Sirius began to snigger, starting small and then losing control as he was still a bit punch drunk. 'Tell you what, Pete - you were worried about Transfiguration, right? Watch, it's easy.' He levelled his wand at Snape. 'Mutatio!'

There was a moment of nothing and then - with a familiar springy sound - Snape's robes were transfigured into a sparkling turquoise ball gown, with a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps. His greasy hair was tied up in ribbons.

The four boys roared with laughter (even Remus was too cheerful to feel bad about what they had done). Snivellus burned bright red and stared down in horror at his glittering frock.

'Suits you,' Sirius laughed.

And then 'Oi!' a cry came down from the other end of the corridor.

'Bugger! Filch!'

'No magic in the corridors!'

'Come on!' Sirius grabbed his friends and, still chuckling and chortling as they went, he bundled them ahead of him and they took off down the hallway - tripping over their feet and their robes, pushing and shoving and howling with laughter. They fled down a secret passageway behind a tapestry, fell down a flight of steps, rounded a corner - looking over their shoulders to see where Filch was and then:

'Got You!' Filch grabbed hold of Sirius by the hair, as he rounded the corner out into the main hallway by the front doors.

'Bugger, gerroff!'

'Not likely!'

Snape was with Filch (back in his billowing robes) and his sallow face was flushed with victory. A door to the left opened and the second year Slytherins came barreling up from the dungeons, after taking their Potions exam. They came to a surprised stop when they saw the little tableau taking place outside the Great Hall.

'Come on it was just a laugh!'

'Detention - for all of you!'

The front doors opened, and a bunch of seventh years came in from their Herbology exam, followed by a fifth year Care of Magical Creatures class. There was quite a crowd gathered now.

Filch finally let go of Sirius, who stumbled away a few paces. 'Ow - I think you pulled some hair out at the root!'

'I'll do more than that, sonny, if I see you doing magic in the corridors again. Now let's see…' The purple vein in his forehead seemed to quiver in delight as he considered the prospect of punishment. 'Scrubbing the toilets. No magic.'

'Oh come on - it was no big deal. Look!' And - made more reckless than ever by the Cheering Charm - Sirius flicked his wand at Snape again. 'Mutatio!'

The same springy noise followed - and then the whole hallway erupted into peels of laughter, as all three classes (even the Slytherins) guffawed at Snape's ball gown and ribbons.

'You look better that way, Snivelly,' James hooted, wiping his eyes.

'TWO DETENTIONS!' Filch bawled over the sounds of the laughter. 'AND I'LL MAKE THE SECOND MORE FOUL THAN THE FIRST'.

Behind him, Snape waved his wand, and undid Sirius's spell (though his face was bright red and there were tears of shame in his eyes). He eyeballed Regulus, who seemed a bit too pleased that someone else had just been humiliated in front of the whole school.

'NOW EVERYONE SCRAM BEFORE YOU'RE ALL IN DETENTION!'

There was a sudden stampede of feet as everyone in the crowd made themselves scarce.

'NOT YOU!' Filch hauled the four boys back, as they tried to make their own escape. 'Now - report here, after tea - an evening of toilet scrubbing awaits.'

He turned and stamped away, flat footed. The boys watched him go, their Cheering Charms just starting to ebb.

'Wait…' James said, furrowing his brow as reality seemed to sink in on him, all at once. 'Did we just get detention?'

…

By the evening, the effects of the Cheering Charms seemed like a lifetime ago - and the boys were rather glum as they sat at the Gryffindor table and ate their tea. 'Just - eat slowly, OK?' James said to the others. 'The longer we stay in here, the less time Filch can have us scrubbing toilets.'

'Knowing Filch, he'll just keep us until past midnight,' Sirius said rather darkly. But they still hung around in the Hall as long as they could, dawdling over their pudding and staying until the summer sun had almost set, and the first of the stars were beginning to twinkle in the purpling sky of the enchanted ceiling.

They were almost the last students left at the tables. But finally, even Pete could not eat any more jam sponge and custard and - with heavy hearts - they scraped their benches back and went off to meet their doom.

They were surprised to find, when they pushed the Hall doors open, that the entranceway was not deserted (save for the waiting Filch) as they had expected it to be by this time. Instead, there was a large crowd of students - all gazing upwards and mostly sniggering.

'What the -?' The four of them looked up.

'Oh, bollocks! ' Sirius sighed.

Because it turned out that the entire student body was looking up at Filch, himself, who had been stunned and was now dangling, one legged, from the chandelier, and wearing a sparkling, turquoise ball gown.

Peeves was having an absolute field day, dive-bombing him and pelting him with chalk and blowing raspberries, as the hapless caretaker hung, dazed and defenceless and totally unwittingly, above the hallway.

He's the least snappy dresser

our caretaker Filch

When judging his clothes

You would score him a zilch

But today he branched out

In a gown of pure blue

And wore it in public

To give him his due

And the students did laugh

But Filch did not care

For Black knocked him out cold

And hung him midair

'PEEVES!' Professor McGonagall had arrived on the scene. She took it all in, and then her eyes landed on Sirius. Her lips were so thin they had almost vanished. 'I think, perhaps, Mr. Black, you had better come with me.'

Sirius felt the eyes of the whole school on him, as Big Macca put her hand on his shoulder and steered him through the crowd. As they climbed the stairs, he heard Peeves' voice float through the air, beginning to sing a new song now:

They say that he's barking, that little boy, Black!

They say he's the looniest one in the pack.

He's angry and violent and ever so mad

He's trouble and bother and always so bad

So watch out for his temper, for he'll surely attack!