Chapter Twelve: Dangerous Ideas

Under the watchful and suspicious eye of Madam Pince, Lily claimed a desk near the back of the library, left her school bag on her chair, and wandered over to the "W" section to look up books on werewolves. The card catalogue told her there should be a sizeable selection, all with names like:

Werewolves: From Man to Monster

The Beast Within: Nature's Darkest Creatures

And

Howling at the Moon: The Madness of the Wolf

But these had all been taken out by various League members and not yet returned and so all that was left on the shelf was a small, and rather dusty book entitled:

Hairy Snout, Human Heart

Which purported to be the autobiography of an anonymous werewolf. Thinking that perhaps this was more in line with what she wanted anyway, Lily took it down and carried it across to her table, where she sat down and soon found herself engrossed in this moving tale of misfortune.

One cannot know what it is to stare into the yellow eyes of death.

She read

To see those fangs and drooling jaws and know that you are mere moments away from meeting your maker. Not until it happens to you. Nor, conversely, can one know what it is like to wake up a few days later - not in some heavenly afterlife - but in a sterile hospital ward, with curtains drawn around your bed and harsh lights glaring from overhead and a feeling of intense pain buried somewhere deep within your flesh.

But these are both experiences I can claim. To know both the dreadful fear and terrible clarity that comes with recognising this is the end, and the general bewilderment of waking up again.

Sweet Larrisa, my fiance whom I was to marry in three months time, was sitting by my bedside when I awoke; she was weeping gently and - on perceiving my regained consciousness - did not cease her tears but rather began to cry all the harder. This was my first introduction to my new life.

More was to follow. A St. Mungo's Healer - wearing a solemn expression and keeping his distance - informed me of my condition. I had survived a werewolf attack, he said, but not unscathed. The condition which afflicted my aggressor was now my own, and would be until I died. Larissa's tears seemed unstemmable and - I must confess - I shed more than a few of my own. I am sure the Healer was not a bad fellow, but his expression was not sympathetic and his manner was cold; he gave the impression of wanting to get as far away from me as he could, as quickly as possible.

And it seemed he was not the only one who eschewed my company - for, two days after I woke up, and when I was still in my hospital bed, I received an owl from the my office at the Ministry, congratulating me on my survival and informing me that, as a werewolf, I was no longer eligible to work in government. My desk would be cleared out, they informed me, and my belongings forwarded to my home address. I would receive one week's severance pay.

Lily actually gasped at this callous treatment, but then honesty forced her to remember all the things she had been told about werewolves, all the things she had believed, and made her reflect that perhaps she would have behaved the same. It just seemed different, seeing it from the other side, from the werewolf's perspective - unnecessarily cruel and deeply unfair. She wriggled uncomfortably in her chair, her conscience prickling at her and increasing the sense of unease she had felt since she had first read the letter.

They told me, once I was bitten, that I was no longer myself. That I was an animal - a beast. A creature without a soul. But in truth, I felt no difference - save for the headaches and the pains every full moon; day by day I felt much as I had always done. I certainly had no wish to harm anyone.

In those first few desperate, painful days and nights, after I was first bitten, I lay in my hospital bed and considered my very essence, probed the darkest recesses of my soul. I knew what everyone did about werewolves: that they were dirty, animal, filled with blood lust and no sense of remorse and yet - no matter how hard I searched - no matter how deeply I excavated my own inner feelings - I could find nothing but my ordinary self there.

I knew no dark motives, I held no dark desires nor wished to perform any dark deeds. I was just as I had always been. And I could not begin to understand it. But nevertheless I still felt it. I was still me.

Lily read on. The sun went down outside the window, but she did not notice, Madam Pince lit the lamps, and she did not look up, so engrossed was she in her book.

It had been with more pain than I can express with which I had broken off my engagement to Larissa. She would have still had me, she sobbed and pleaded with me to stay, but I could offer her no future and could not live with myself if I made her an outcast, as I was, or if any harm came to her by my own teeth.

The Ministry had sacked me and even casual work was hard to come by and soon I found myself unable to cover my rent and having to give up my neat little flat above Twilfit and Tattings, which I had lived in since I left Hogwarts. But where was I to go? For I had no friends, they had all abandoned me. I could no longer afford a roof over my head and had no one who would shelter me. I could not return to Larissa, though I missed her as a drowning man misses oxygen.

I lived an itinerant lifestyle for a while, begging for work from wizards who lived away from towns - chopping wood, degnoming gardens, and enchanting their pet hippogriffs to look like muggle ponies… But the work was scarce and did not pay much and more often than not I slept under bridges and in doorways, trying to eke out what sickles I had so I could eat. The longer I slept rough, the rougher I looked, and so the harder I found it to find work from respectable wizards. And soon I realised that my life would be safer and easier if I joined the wolfpacks.

Lily frowned and turned the page, totally lost in this one werewolf's struggle to survive. Around her, the library began to empty out as students finished their homework and left, yawning and stretching, for their common rooms and beds. Lily read on.

As harsh as my life with the packs was, as degrading and laced with criminality, there was one day which stands out as my darkest moment, my lowest ebb, and which even now - years later - I shudder to recall.

We had returned to Diagon Alley, or - more precisely - Knockturn Alley, and were intimidating passersby, frightening money from them with threats and leers. I am not proud of our behaviour - but it is what we were reduced to; cold and starving and clad in rags, denied entry to or employment in respectable establishments, what else could we do? Wizards would, no doubt, have us lie down in ditches and die, but the instinct for survival is greater than that - and so we hung on, and did things that would have made our mother's weep if they could see us.

One wizard, a smart looking man in well cut robes, walked past us and - with a sneer of condescension - flicked a knut onto the ground near my feet. One knut. But I was not the only wolf to see it, and - with a snarl reminiscent of the full moon - one of my pack fellows dove to the floor, scrabbling to pick it up.

And I was filled with rage, for that was myknut - the wizard had tossed it at me. And, snarling every bit as ferociously as my compatriot, I dove on him, scrabbled at him and we rolled over and over, fighting and biting and growling, until I landed on top, seized his head and smashed it into the cobbles beneath. At the time I did not know if he was dead or merely unconscious, all I knew was: I had won and - triumphant - I scurried, on all fours, back to where the knut lay, and seized my prize.

And as I squatted there, clutching it, I felt eyes upon me and I looked up and saw my own sweet Larissa, standing in a shop doorway, watching me. I was filthy, I was ragged, and I had possibly just killed a man for a knut, and my Larissa saw it all. Her eyes were dark, and desperate, and brimming with tears and, I fear, disappointment. I do not know if she would have spoken to me, or if she would have turned and sought safety in the shelter of the shop, pretended not to know me; I did not give her a chance to make a decision. For, on seeing her, I was filled with such shame and disgust for myself that I turned and fled, and did not dare look back.

That was the last time I ever saw Larissa. And, though my heart still aches for her and my arms are empty without her, I am glad of it. A man fallen as low as I have cannot live with himself when he sees himself reflected in the eyes of those who knew him before. Especially not those who loved him.

'The Library is closing.'

Lily jumped as Madam Pince's cross voice knifed into her thoughts. She had been lost in the book, her own eyes brimming with tears, her own stomach churning with the vicarious shame of this poor werewolf, and it was with a start that she found herself back in the familiar dustiness of the library, warm and safe with the low lamplight glowing around her.

'I - er - sorry. I'd like to check this out,' she showed the book to Madam Pince, who tutted but allowed her to borrow the book, and then she left the library and headed her lonely way back to Gryffindor tower.

…

'Where have you been?' Mary asked her when she arrived in the dorm.

'Library - I've been researching. Look.' She held the book out for her friends to look at. Petra took it, and frowned when she saw the title.

'What are you reading this for, Lils?'

'I got a letter - for the problem page - from the nephew of a werewolf…'

'Someone admitted to being related to a werewolf?' Mandy gasped in horror.

It was Lily's turn to frown. 'Well, it was anonymous, but why shouldn't they admit to it? They've done nothing wrong. And more to the point - neither has their uncle. He's never bitten anyone, he locks himself up at the full moon, he's the same person he always was…'

'You can't really believe that though, Lily,' Mary said with an incredulous smile. 'Not really.'

'Why not? Why would someone lie?'

Petra sighed, and gave her a look laced with exasperation, and Lily realised that her friends must be thinking her terribly naive. 'Why wouldn't they? Look - having a family member become a werewolf - well - it must be a terrible shock,' Petra said, trying to sound understanding. 'Worse than if they were just killed. And I should know - my uncle was killed by You Know Who, remember? It's perfectly understandable that someone might choose to lie to themselves - to fool themselves into thinking that the person they loved was still there but they're not. When you get bitten by a werewolf, the human dies and all that is left is a monster walking around in their skin.'

'But where's the proof of that?'

'Everyone knows it!'

'Like everyone knows that mudbloods have no place in wizarding society? Or that Bugnug killed Mable Grable?'

'Oh that's completely different,' Petra scoffed, struggling to maintain her understanding tone. 'You know lots of people - everyone in this room for a start - contests all of that. There's a difference between opinion and fact.'

'Without evidence how is your "fact" not an opinion?' Lily's cheeks were flushed by now, and she could hear the irritability and anger in her own voice as well . Her three friends glanced at each other - knowing sidelong glances that told each other Lily was being unreasonable, and that made her even more angry. 'Look, I'm the one who's read this book, I'm the one who's looked at things from more than one perspective.'

'There is only one perspective on this!' Petra told her, failing - at last - to keep her patience.

'Is that what you want me to write as an answer in my problem page?'

'You're not publishing that letter in our magazine!' Mandy said hotly.

'I-' Lily looked around at her friends, suddenly not sure what was happening, or if she really knew them at all. 'Alright, let's just forget about it, shall we?' And, quietly, Lily went to bed.

…

But she did not forget about it and - after her Defence lesson on Monday - she approached Professor Malidictus again, the copy of the book in her hands. 'I'm sorry to bother you, sir,' she said, 'but I did some research after our last conversation and - I wondered - have you ever read this book?'

Malidictus glanced at the cover, and his eyes darkened. 'That is a dangerous book you are holding, Miss Evans.'

'How can a book be dangerous?'

'Words are dangerous, Miss Evans - they spread ideas and I'm sure you can agree some ideas are dangerous.'

'Yes - but I'm starting to think you and I disagree as to which ones.'

Malidictus's eyes flashed in anger. 'I have read that book. It is filled with the most vile, disgusting propaganda intent on warping our world and letting the pernicious influence of dark creatures encroach on us. Don't you see? This is what I warned you about - they remember what it is to be human, how we think. They know how to pull on our heartstrings - this book was written purely to undermine our own instincts, to let werewolves creep back into society - so that they can make the rest of us like them.'

'But-'

'It is a trap! And I worked long and hard to stop this book getting published, and tried to ban it from Flourish and Blotts once it was done.'

'You tried to ban a book? That's not… I mean, traditionally… you know, the good guys don't…'

'Miss Evans, this is not some work of fiction on those moving picture boxes the muggles have - with "good guys" and "bad guys" and a strict moral code both will adhere to. This is real life, messy and complicated, where the dark arts will do whatever they can to infiltrate all that is good, and those who fight them must learn to think like them - even use their methods. I have spent my life hunting werewolves, I wrote the laws around them and made them my subject of expertise, though I despise them - and I did this to keep everybody else safe.'

'You didn't keep Mrs. Enderby safe!' Lily blurted out.

Malidictus flushed - skipping red and turning straight to purple. 'Detention!'

'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Of course Mrs. Enderby was not your fault, what happened to her was the fault of the Dark Lord, just like you warned us. But, when it comes to werewolves, I can't find any proof that what everyone says about them - when they are human - is true. No one gives any evidence, they just insist it is the way it is and act like that is enough, but Professor - how is that different to what the Ministry did with Bugnug? They believed what they wanted to believe and I can't find any reason not to think the same is true of the way people choose to treat werewolves.'

Malidictus looked truly furious by now, and he actually slapped the book from her hands (though it seemed like he would quite like to slap her ), it tumbled to the ground and thudded heavily by her feet. 'A week's detention,' he spat. 'And let that teach you not to be a hoity-toity silly, little girl who thinks she knows better than anyone else while spouting bleeding heart nonsense that will get people killed. Now get out .'

Lily scooped up the book and walked away, but she left with even more misgivings than she had started with.

…

As dispiriting as the vandalism of their dormitory door had been, the boys' were not so downhearted as to forget their triumph in finding another secret passageway which led - not only out of school, not only straight to Hogsmeade, but directly to Honeydukes itself - and they were eager to use it again.

Unfortunately this proved easier said than done as, when they returned to the statue of the one-eyed witch, they had no more luck prising her hump open than they had last Tuesday. And they tried everything they could think of: hauling at it with their brute strength, using "aperto", tapping secret codes onto it with their wands… nothing worked. But this did little to quell James' enthusiasm (who had decided to write home and ask to be sent some more Bertie Botts, Euphemia had come through, and so he was no longer bereft).

'Well, there's nothing for it, men,' he said to them after their latest failure to break into the hidden tunnel. 'We're going to have to go to the library and start researching.' He had the gleam of fanaticism in his eye, and there was no point in arguing with him when he got that. So, dutifully, they trooped off to the second floor and crept inside Madam Pince's domain.

It was as they were scanning the bookshelves - not quite sure what they were looking for - that James spotted Lily. She was by herself, sitting quietly at a table near the window, her head bent low over a book which appeared to be absorbing her completely.

James blushed, saw Sirius looking at him and blushed again, and then ostentatiously decided to ignore her by announcing as loudly as he could (which was very loudly, indeed, as James had a very carrying sort of voice) that it was a good job there was no one of any importance in the library, as they were men on a mission - a very important and top secret mission, no less - and could not possibly be disturbed, not even by their many admirers and well wishers.

Then he sneaked another peek at Lily, who had not looked up or even seemed to have noticed he was there.

His brow furrowed. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him - a very smug and knowing sort of eyebrow.

'I don't know what you're looking at,' James snapped and began to scrutinise the bookshelves with a sort of furious determination… But anyone watching closely might have noticed that - despite the ferocity of his scanning - he was slowly drifting ever closer to Lily's table.

After approximately seven minutes of staring at the books and casually side stepping left, James was less than five paces from Lily's table. It was at this point that his gaze lost the intensity of concentration he had been using to fool Sirius, and became rather more relaxed. He put his hands in his pockets and - rather nonchalantly - tore his eyes from the shelves and looked around. He even began to whistle.

And then he did an exaggerated double take, as his gaze fell on Lily, as if he was spotting her there for the first time. 'Evans!' he cried, sounding delighted. 'Fancy meeting you here.'

She looked up, frowning. He took this as encouragement and walked a few steps towards her. 'I'm on a top secret mission. No - no - don't ask me what it is, for I cannot tell you… So, what are you doing?' he asked, when she showed no signs of interest in his mission.

'Reading,' she said shortly.

'For homework? Perhaps I can help you.'

'No,' and then - when he didn't go away and just stood there looking at her like an eager puppy, she sighed and elaborated further. 'It's for my magazine.'

'You do so much work for that magazine, and it really pays off. It truly is excellent. Far better than The Prophet for saying what's what.'

For just a moment, it seemed to work. Her vanity was flattered, her pride in her magazine stroked, and she almost - almost - smiled. And then she suddenly remembered who she was talking to, and her frown deepened. 'What are you doing?' she asked. 'Talking to me?'

'Well - I - er - I saw you and …'

'Well - I - er - why don't you unsee me and leave me to get on with my work?'

'Er… yes,' he flamed bright crimson and stumbled away, 'sorry to bother you.' Reluctantly he made his way back to where his friends were standing. They had been gawking at the whole unedifying display. 'What?' he asked them rather belligerently.

Peter shook his head sadly, Remus gave him a comforting pat on the arm and Sirius cuffed him around the back of his head. 'You're a total berk, you know that?'

…

The boys and Lily were not the only ones getting up to secret things in the library that day. Hidden in an alcove, where no one else could see him, Severus was poring over a large, dragon-hide bound tome and making hasty scribbles on a scrap of parchment. He had thought he was making headway at Christmas, in his plan to create a spell which would dangle someone upside down in the air, however - when the other students arrived back in January and he had a chance to try out "Wingardium Corpus" - it had achieved nothing. So it had been back to the drawing board.

He'd spent the last month refining and tweaking and studying every spell-crafting book he could get his hands on and now - now - he thought he had it. He dashed off one final word and then leaned back in his chair and looked at it.

Levicorpus

This was it, he was almost certain of it… he just needed someone to practise on. He slipped out of his alcove, skirted unnoticed around James Potter and his babbling band of buffoons, and left the library - heading down the corridors looking for some lone victim to use his new spell on.

He came across Callum Brown just coming out of the boys' toilets and - before Callum had any idea what was happening - yelled 'Levicorpus' and brandished his wand. With a shriek, Callum found himself pulled upwards by his ankle and then dangling in midair, his robes falling over his head. He started to rotate slowly.

Severus grinned and walked around the slowly spinning boy, keeping pace with him - so that his own yellowy teeth were always level with the unfortunate Callum's eyes. 'This has worked out rather well, hasn't it?'

Callum Brown made a small yelping noise.

'I'd help you down only… I don't know how yet. This will work very nicely on -'

He was cut off by the sound of a slow hand clap, and he looked around - a little flustered - and saw Evan Rosier, of sixth year, leaning against a pillar and leering at him. 'Good one, Snape.'

'Rosier-' Severus acknowledged him with a jerk of his head.

'Invent this yourself, did you?' Rosier pushed away from the pillar and, like Sev had done, started to circle the levitating Callum Brown (Callum's terrified eyes flicked between the two of them - not sure which one presented him with the most danger).

'Yes.'

'Nice. What was the incantation again?'

'Levicorpus.'

'Like this?' And - with a flourish of his wand - Evan Rosier uttered the spell out loud and suddenly it was Severus who found himself dangling mid air by the ankle, upside down and with his robes falling over his face.

'Works like a charm,' Rosier sneered and then walked away cackling. 'Thanks for that, Snape.'

'Hey!' Severus called after him, struggling impotently in the air, 'get me down.'

Rosier turned back to him and gave a half shrug. 'Don't know how,' and with that he disappeared around the corner.

Upside down, with all the blood rushing to his head and hoist on his own enchantment, Severus seethed to himself. From now on, he thought to himself, he would make all his spells non-verbal, and he would not try any out in a public place until he at least had an inkling of what the counterjinx might be.

…

Around the middle of February, the murky gloom and sleety skies which had characterised much of the weather for 1975 thus far, suddenly cleared up - and the days became brilliantly bright, blustery and cold. The morning of the Slytherin vs Gryffindor Quidditch match dawned with what Bethany Elshaw declared perfect Quidditch conditions and she told her team to make sure they got a good breakfast and she would see them out on the pitch.

James ate a bowl of porridge and three slices of toast in a silence which was most unlike him.

'Are you alright, mate?' Sirius asked him - when James had not spoken for fifteen minutes (which must be some sort of a record).

'Fine - just … focusing. I can't afford to muck this game up.' (James had spent the entirety of their previous Quidditch match locked in a cupboard, and Gryffindor had been utterly trounced by Hufflepuff, they could not afford to lose this one.)

His friends went with him to the pitch, this time, to make sure no lurking Snivellus's could do their worst, and they left him at the changing rooms and went to find seats. 'He'll be fine,' Sirius said to the others. 'Reg is playing - stupid git - Jenny'll get the snitch in about five minutes.'

And his words proved to be true for, barely had Madam Hooch's whistle blown, than a little blur of gold was seen fluttering near the Slytherin goalposts and Jenny honed in on it, leaving Regulus in her dust.

But in the few moments between the whistle blasts signifying the beginning and end of the match, James had managed to seize the quaffle and score three times in quick succession - dodging bludgers and Slytherin chasers alike and lobbing his third goal in from all the way back on the halfway line. The final (and immediate) result was 180-0 to Gryffindor and - if the scarlet clad crowds felt cheated of a decent length match - you certainly couldn't tell over their wild cheering.

James was even more smug than usual when his feet touched the ground. Although he had not managed to claw back all the points they had lost to Hufflepuff, this result meant they were still in with a chance for the cup - especially if Ravenclaw beat the Badgers next weekend (although this was certainly not a given).

'Sometimes I just think I'm in a different class to everyone else, you know?' he said to his friends, as they walked back up the lawn towards the castle. 'Petra's good, Bethany knows what she's doing, but me… There's just that extra spark there, you know? Genius.'

'Not that you're big headed or anything,' Remus said to him.

'It isn't big headed if it's true! You saw me out there - I dominated the field of play. Henry Bell called me a prodigy back in second year - before I'd even started training with the team - and, you know, I think he was right. You agree with me, don't you, Pete?'

'You were the best player out there by a mile, ' Peter agreed eagerly.

'By several miles,' James corrected him.

'That's what I meant.'

'And that third goal of mine - right from the halfway line. That was just sheer perfec-'

'Aguamenti!'

James' rhapsodising over his own skills was suddenly cut off as a Tsunami of water exploded from the tip of Sirius's wand and bowled him over like a pin, knocking him straight off his feet and leaving him pressed to the ground. He lay there, in the grass, gasping and wheezing as Sirius's wand continued to hose him down for a few moments more. Finally, the geyser spluttered to a stop, and James spluttered his way into a sitting position.

'What was that for?'

'Because you deserved it, you absolute idiot, you've got a head the size of Hogwarts,' and - grinning - he stuck out his hand and helped the sopping wet James to his feet. 'It's called humility, mate - you need to learn some.'

'Geniuses don't need humility.'

'Don't make me hose you down again.'

And, with Sirius and Remus roaring with laughter, Peter smiling nervously and James squelching grumpily, they all made their way back to the common room.

…

The victory party was already in full swing when they got there, and James grabbed a butterbeer and then pushed his way to the fireside so he could dry off. It wasn't long before Bethany Ellshaw joined him. 'You played really well today, Potter,' she said.

'Thanks.'

'You've got a lot of talent… the thing is… there's no room for bystanders on the Gryffindor team.'

James goggled at her, not understanding.

'It's a shame to let someone of your skill go, but … well, none of us feel comfortable playing with you when you refuse to sign up to The League. They don't trust you - or understand you. We've all discussed it.' And she waved a hand over to the other side of the common room, where the rest of the team stood huddled in a group, pretending they weren't watching.

'But - I scored three unassisted goals in less than five minutes today. You can't let me go because you don't like what clubs I belong to.'

'Or don't belong to,' Bethany corrected him. 'Look at it this way - would you want to play Quidditch with a member of the Knights of Walpurgis?'

'No - of course not.'

'Right. And we don't want to be on a team with a craven bystander. It's not good for cohesion. We have to work as one and you're not one of us.'

'But -'

'I'm sorry - but we've got no room for cowards. You're off the team, Potter,' and she walked away, leaving him feeling as winded as if Sirius had just knocked him off his feet with Aguamenti once again.

…

James moped for the next couple of weeks and so, in the hope of cheering him up, the boys rebooted their plans to become animagi again. Peter stole three more mandrake leaves and they all took a trip into the forest armed with broomsticks and Sirius's silver teaspoon in order to collect dew from a place that had not seen sunshine or been trampled on by human feet.

The Moon rose, Remus howled away in the Shrieking Shack and - up in their dormitory - the boys placed a mandrake leaf each under their tongues and settled in for another extremely uncomfortable month.

The next morning, there was absolute quiet in the Great Hall as everyone flicked through the Daily Prophet, looking for news of another werewolf attack. Thankfully, the previous night seemed to have passed by without incident up and down the country, but the studious checking of the paper meant that this month's issue of Sabrina13 went unread until breakfast was over.

James sat in the back of A History of Magic, idly leafing through Lily's magazine (it was not like Professor Binns would notice, the man had failed to notice his own death last year, after all). With glazed eyes he flicked past Mandy's article on hem lengths for 1975 ( "Trailing robes are over , a more sensible and practical ankle length hemline is now in vogue - but shorter robes do mean you will have to up your shoe game!" ) and Lily's full horoscope for Pisces (" Neptune is in ascendance at the moment, which means now is a time to dream, to let your ideas run wild and follow those artistic passions but don't get carried away; plan carefully and watch out for burns and scrapes on Tuesday" ). With a bit more interest, he read Petra's recap of the Falmouth Falcons vs Pride of Portree Quidditch game from the previous weekend and, with a good deal of enthusiasm, he took Mary's quiz: Which member of hot band "Royston Idlewind and the Dissimulators" should you date? (Q1. What is your idea of the perfect romantic evening? A) A picnic at sunset followed by a moonlit stroll around the Black Lake? B) Dinner for two at the most exclusive restaurant in Diagon Alley followed by a display of Dr Fillibuster Fireworks? C) Staying in, cuddling on the couch with a Kneazle on your knee and "The Magic Unicorns" on the WWN? Or D) A wild party with a live band and flowing butterbeers?)

But it wasn't until he reached the very back page, and Dear Dianella that Sabrina13 really made him sit up and take notice (in fact, he sat up so suddenly he nearly fell off his chair). It was with a mounting sense of disbelief that he read the letter written by "A Werewolf's Nephew", nodding along at what was written there but still incredulous that the magazine would publish it. But it was the reply from Dianella herself that made him think that - perhaps - change was finally in the air.

Thank you so much for writing in

Dianella had written

And thank you for opening my eyes to the plight of your uncle and other werewolves like him. As with so many others in the Wizarding World, I have always just believed what I have been told about werewolves. I won't repeat those beliefs here, because you know them well enough. Your letter made me question everything I thought I knew and forced me to do my own research - and though everyone I spoke to about it told me I was wrong to question, no one could give me any satisfactory answers as to why they believed as they did. I have come to the conclusion they don't know why they believe it - they just do.

I wish I could give you some easy answers, some words of comfort or advice for how to get through school having to listen to these ugly beliefs about someone you love. But the truth is: we are living in ugly times, and there are no easy answers and so we must simply do our best to be brave and stand for truth.

There is a ray of hope, though. Your letter changed my mind - you showed me something I had never considered before and made me think for myself. That is the power of speaking the truth; you may not reach everybody but you can still make a difference, you can still change some minds and open some hearts. Perhaps I will not be the only person affected by your letter, the only person willing to question the prevailing narrative or to go and do my own research. Perhaps - in publishing this letter - we can reach a few more people.

And that is how the world is changed for the better. Drip by drip. Truth by truth. You did something really brave in writing in and - if nothing else - you now have one extra ally, in me. Together we can look for more. I believe you, and I believe your uncle is a good man who is treated unfairly by the world. Let's work together to make it a fairer world for him and those like him.

Yours in solidarity,

Dianella

Not quite daring to believe his eyes, James dug Sirius in the ribs and thrust the magazine under his nose. 'Look at this!', he hissed.

Sirius's eyes widened as he read, and he began to grin. 'Lily's woken up,' he whispered back. 'I can't wait to show this to Moony,' and - as Pete was pestering to know what they were whispering about - he handed the magazine across to Peter, who also began to grin.

But, if the boys were pleased by what they had read, they were the only ones. Mary, Mandy and Petra cornered Lily after class, their faces furious. 'We told you not to publish this letter!' Mandy said, 'you've made us all look ridiculous.'

'I told the truth - that's what our magazine does.'

' You printed pro-werewolf propaganda ,' Petra hissed. 'That's nothing to do with fighting the Dark Lord.'

'That's not -'

'You always do this, Lily,' Mary told her. 'You always act like you know best. Like last year, when the Kneazles died, and you acted like you were the only one who cared. You act like it's your magazine and we're just your helpers - the magazine was my idea! '

'We're supposed to be a team,' Mandy's voice was cold. 'We're supposed to agree on an editorial line. We don't want someone who acts like the boss, the only one whose ideas matter and yet who has been proven to get it wrong time and again.'

'What are you saying?' Lily asked, where Mandy was cold she was just getting heated up and ready for a fight.

'You're off the Magazine,' Petra told her. 'We're all agreed. You're not pulling any more stunts like this.' And the three of them walked away, without looking back - leaving Lily, stranded and friendless, in the hallway.

…

It was with a heavy heart that she made her lonely way to Potions. She knew she was in the right, but that didn't make being abandoned by her friends any easier, and she scowled and scuffled her feet along - kicking out at things that annoyed her, her hands clenched into fists in her pockets - as she stumped her way down to the dungeons.

She was so caught up in being angry with her friends and feeling sorry for herself and hard done to in general that she did not notice she was being followed, and did not realise she was surrounded until it was too late. But suddenly she found herself in the centre of a circle of very tall, very menacing looking sixth and seventh years, who had their wands drawn and sneers on their faces.

Immediately she whipped her own wand out and cast a hex before even giving them a chance to tell her why they were there (she knew why - she did not need to hear it - they were League members, and they did not like today's problem page.) 'Furnunculus!'

One of the boys roared in pain and stepped backwards clutching at his face, as massive boils and pimples broke out all over his skin, but for the rest of The League this just acted as a signal for them to start casting jinxes of their own, and red and white and purple sparks flew through the air, all in Lily's direction - and only a well placed protection charm stopped her from being cursed into an oozing blob on the floor. But her charm could not last forever and - though she fought and hexed and jinxed with all her might - she was very much in danger.

Coming down the stairs, into the dungeons, with Sirius and Peter, James caught sight of Lily - in the middle of the circle, battling older boys ten to one - and roared with anger before dashing down the last of the steps and hurrying towards her, wand drawn.

But, before he could reach her, there was a sudden cry of 'Levicorpus!'

With a startled yelp, the circle of older boys suddenly found themselves hoisted into the air and flipped upside down, and then a dark and awkward figure ducked under the head of one of the boys, grabbed hold of Lily's hand and pulled her away from her tormentors. Snape and Lily dashed hand in hand down the corridor and disappeared inside Slughorn's classroom.

James faltered to a stop, wand still drawn. He stared up at the floating boys, who had begun to revolve slowly even as they struggled to free themselves, and tried to feel glad that Evans was safe, and ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment that he had not been the one to rescue her.