Chapter Fourteen: Digging up the Dirt

It was with trembling knees and a pounding heart that Mandy not only committed social suicide but put herself in actual danger by throwing her arms around Lily in a hug, when the other girl materialised on Platform 9¾. She could feel the eyes boring into her back, could imagine Mary staring at her in slack jawed horror (at least Petra, who lived on the Antrim Coast, would be using floo powder to get back to school so wasn't here to see), and she knew there was no going back from this moment.

'I didn't sleep all last night,' she confessed to Lily, once they were safely stashed away in a compartment of their own (it was, perhaps, a mark of the times that Lily had cast a protection charm on the compartment door so they wouldn't be interrupted… or attacked). 'Everyone's going to hate me…'

'Not everyone ,' Lily squeezed her hand. 'We have each other now… and Potter , for some reason.'

Mandy smiled … but she still looked like she might be sick at any moment.

…

Mary must have got ahead of them in the carriages, and made it up to school before they did - as she had reached Petra before the two of them entered through the great, oak front doors. They caught the barest glimpse of their now erstwhile friends, walking away from them, before they were pushed along in the surge towards the Great Hall. When they reached the Gryffindor table they found Mary and Petra sitting at the furthest end, closest to the teacher's table, and decided it would be prudent to keep their distance.

But they could not keep their distance forever, and - once the feast was over - it was time to return to the dorm, where the reckoning was waiting for them. At first, all was quiet, in the dormitory, though the atmosphere was so thick it could be cut with a knife. The girls unpacked far more methodically than normal, with great concentration and without looking at each other.

Eventually, Mary snapped. 'I'd just like to know,' she said - addressing the socks she was currently balling and putting away in her drawer - 'what you said to Mandy to make her betray us like this?'

'She didn't say anything to me,' Mandy replied, flushing. 'I can think for myself, thank you - and I didn't like the way everyone was treating Lily.'

'The League stands for something important,' Petra said. 'It stands for something bigger than any of us. It's about taking action, fighting the Dark Lord. Lily signed up to all of that - and then she walked away from it. How she gets treated is something she brought on herself.'

'I only asked questions!' Lily retorted (she was also flushing - and absolutely furious). 'And I am in the room, and I'm not deaf - so don't talk about me like I'm not here. I thought I stood for what the League stands for, but the more I see of it the less sure I am.'

'You're not sure you stand against the Dark Lord?'

'Don't be ridiculous! That's a fight I will never back down from - not even if he's looming over me with his wand out. But that doesn't mean I have to sign up to any army looking to fight him, regardless of who they are. It is possible to agree with someone's aims but not their methods, you know? Or to agree with some of what they say but not all of it. Things aren't always as black and white as Malidictus is making them out to be. And he should know better, at his age! The word is "nuance" - you should look it up. You and the rest of The League.'

Petra looked outraged. Mary slammed her sock drawer shut and glared at Lily - who glared back.

'I'm not sure what I think about werewolves,' Mandy said hesitantly. All heads whipped around to stare at her. 'I don't know enough about who is right and who is wrong.' She lifted her chin defiantly. 'But I know I don't like the way The League is treating Lily. I know Lily is a good person and I know she hates the Dark Lord. And if being friends with her means I can't be in the League - well - then - I choose Lily. Every time. And you two should think carefully about why you're so willing to throw away our years of friendship for a middle aged man with a werewolf fixation!'

Mary and Petra were staggered. They exchanged a scandalised glance and then, as if they had read each other's minds, they both drew their bed curtains around themselves and disappeared from view. And just like that, the first awkward night was over.

…

The atmosphere was still frosty the next morning though, and they all dressed in silence and went down to breakfast as if they were strangers, before taking their seats at opposite ends of the table.

'How are you feeling?' Lily asked Mandy.

'Still terrified.'

'Everything will be OK, I promise.' And - as if to prove her point - an owl fluttered down next to her hand and deposited an envelope. She tore it open to find a short and hastily scribbled note:

I'm telling my friends I'm quitting The League. Thanks for your advice.

A Werewolf's Nephew.

'Look,' she showed the letter to Mandy, who began to smile tentatively. And, over the next few days, Lily received a few more notes just like the first - hasty, and written as if the person writing was afraid of being interrupted, but all bearing a similar message:

I'm not happy with the way we've kicked James Potter off the Quidditch team just because he doesn't attend League meetings.

A Worried Gryffindor

When I see the Slytherins gang up on you - and then The League members gang up on you, it makes me wonder if we're really any different.

Anxious and Alone

I told my mum about The League over Easter - about bystanders and apostates… She said it was funny, wizards having their own Salem Witch Trials. Now I don't know what to think.

A Mixed up Muggleborn

'See?' she said to Mandy. 'There's more of us out there than we think. If Malidictus doesn't look out, he might have a fully fledged revolution on his hands.' She folded the latest note into her pocket, and frowned. 'There's something you said that's been bothering me actually. Making me think, I mean.'

'What?'

'About Malidictus - on the first night back, you said he had a "werewolf fixation".'

'Did I?'

'Yes - you did. And you're right. He was talking about werewolves long before Mrs. Enderby was attacked. He'll tell you himself, he's dedicated his whole life to them - even though he hates them… Why would you dedicate your whole life to something you hated? Don't you think that's strange?'

'I suppose.'

Lily dug her spoon into her porridge, and then paused with it halfway to her mouth. 'I just wonder what his story is. I might start looking it up.'

'How?'

'There are old copies of The Daily Prophet in the Library. Stacks of them going back decades. I'm going to comb through them for every werewolf attack and legislation there's been and see if I can't get to the bottom of the bee in Malidictus's bonnet.'

Mandy shrugged. 'Rather you than me.'

Lily pointed her spoon at her friend. ' You will be helping me.'

Mandy groaned.

…

But for all Lily knew that not all was well inside The League, and that more than her and Mandy were having misgivings, League business carried on as usual. And that meant patrols after curfew, hexing identified enemies and spying on anyone deemed untrustworthy.

Big Bertha in seventh year seemed to find this particularly enjoyable and would tail first one mark and then another, so that it was a wonder she ever got any of her schoolwork done as she was forever creeping around the castle, trailing after undesirables and making notes of their activities.

And though her enthusiasm for her work never dampened, her innate and insatiable nosiness did sometimes get her into trouble; more than once she found herself in over her head and facing more Slytherin wands than she could handle. She never learned though and - once Madam Pomfrey had reversed the ill effects of whichever hex she had been hit with lately - she would be back out and spying once again.

The first Thursday after they had returned, Bertha was lurking with intent behind a suit of armour in the hallway, when she saw Evan Rosier - a Slytherin sixth year who was well known as a leader among the Death Eaters in waiting - sneaking out through the front doors.

Her curiosity piqued (though she lived in a perpetual state of curiosity) she let him leave the castle and then crept out from her hiding place and began to follow him. He led her across the front lawn and towards the greenhouses. She hid behind a snargaluff plant and peeped out at him, he was checking his watch, like he was waiting for someone.

And then a girl came around the side of greenhouse 3 - a Ravenclaw bystander named Florence who (Bertha happened to know from having followed her before) was a muggleborn . But, despite her birth, it seemed that it was Florence Rosier was waiting for, as he smiled when he saw and then … the things they got up to almost made Bertha's quill explode with excitement as she scribbled it all down in her little book.

About a week later, she was tailing Remus and the others through the castle (much to their exasperation) when she caught sight of Rosier swaggering around with his friends. '...So I cursed the filthy, little mudblood,' he was saying to great roars of laughter from his cronies.

'You don't think all muggleborns are filthy, though, do you, Evan?' Bertha asked, before she could stop herself. (Realising they were no longer being followed, the four Gryffindor boys looked around to see what had become of Bertha and then - curious - trailed over to the group huddled in the corridor, wondering what was going on.)

'What's that supposed to mean?' Rosier asked, he wore an expression which made it look as if Bertha were something particularly unpleasant he had found stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

But Bertha was not deterred. 'Do your friends know? I bet they don't.' She was gleeful.

'Know what?'

'What you get up to. I saw you last Thursday, behind the Greenhouses. I saw you kissing Fl-'

'Levicorpus!' Rosier flourished his wand, Bertha gave a wild shriek and was suddenly dangling from her ankle, upside down in the air. She thrashed around and screamed. Her robes fell down over her head revealing a pair of voluminous, bright red bloomers. She screamed again and scrabbled to cover herself up while the Slytherins jeered and howled with laughter and even the four, snooping Gryffndors had to fight back their smiles.

'What is the meaning of this?' A grave voice asked.

Bertha screamed again, and the group of Slytherins scattered to the winds, as if they had never been there, as none other than Professor Dumbledore himself came around the corner and happened upon the scene.

' Finite,' With a wave of his wand, he undid the hex holding Bertha in place, and then - still pointing his wand at her - gently guided her down to the floor.

The boys stood there frozen. 'It wasn't us!' James blurted out.

Dumbledore looked at them over the rim of his golden spectacles. 'No - I did not suppose it was. Miss Jorkins, if you will be so good as to follow me, please.' And he swept away, with Bertha in his wake, leaving the boys alone in the corridor.

'I know it comes from the Slytherins…' Sirius said, after a long moment. '...But it is a pretty good spell.'

…

Dumbledore led Bertha all the way up to his office. He gave the password to the gargoyles ( "fudge flies" ), which leapt aside and allowed them passage to the circular staircase which moved upwards of its own accord. Once inside the round and very beautiful room which served as Dumbledore's office, he sat behind his desk and surveyed Bertha over the tips of his tented fingers.

'What happened to you, Bertha?'

'It was Evan Rosier, sir - from Slytherin.' Her arms were folded across her chest and she was scowling. 'He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir. I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday… At least, I tried to say that. He hexed me before I could.'

'No doubt it is my great age, and not the quality of your explanation, which leaves me befuddled. But perhaps you could give an old man some more context for this mischief?'

'Well - he's a Death Eater, isn't he, sir? At least he wants to be - Rosier. A big supporter of the Dark Lord. And Florence is muggleborn . And I saw them kissing. I'd followed him out of the castle to see what he was up to, and he met Florence in secret. Then today I heard him talking to his friends about muggleborns - he called them filthy - and I told him he didn't think they were all filthy and started to say about Florence… and then suddenly I was upside down.'

'It was noble of you to call out his hypocrisy-'

Bertha gave a little nod of her head. 'He didn't like that. Not in front of his Death Eater friends.'

'I am sure he did not. But I am afraid I must ask, Miss Jorkins, why did you need to follow him in the first place?'

Bertha stared at him incredulously, unable to believe that the Headmaster did not understand the importance of The League, or the work she did for it.

…

In the past week, Lily had managed to gather up a great many back issues of The Daily Prophet, and she and Mandy had staggered under the weight of them all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, where they sat in the common room (or up in their dorm when the eyes on them felt particularly hostile) and combed their way through the old papers, trying to get the measure of how frequent werewolf attacks really were or why Malidictus, in particular, might have such strong feelings about them.

'Here's an article about a new piece of legislation being passed about twenty years ago,' Lily said (she could feel Mary staring at her, but was ignoring her). 'There hadn't been a werewolf attack for the past five years at this point, it says so, but a werewolf had been sighted by an old witch, living alone - it gave her a nasty turn and she suffered a heart attack, or so she told the Healers at St. Mungos. That was enough for them to bring in harsher restrictions though - just someone seeing one. A werewolf now cannot be within half a mile of humans during their transformations, unless that human is of age and a close relation or a trained werewolf handler. It means - unless they live somewhere totally secluded - they're driven from their homes on the night they transform, but then it's up to them to find somewhere else safe and secure to become a wolf.' She sighed. 'Seems a bit of a counterproductive law to me… needlessly cruel. So many of these laws seem to be cruel just for the sake of it.'

'The number of attacks seemed to pick up after that law was passed in 1954,' Mandy said. 'And a lot of the victims are children… though none survived. But before that it was all pretty quiet since this one attack back in 1941 - look.' She showed Lily a paper she had already read through:

Howling Horror!

Fenrir Greyback, 24, is in critical condition in St. Mungos after being bitten by a werewolf.

Healers unsure as to whether or not he will survive.

'He did survive,' Mandy said. 'And that's when they passed a law that all employers - not just the Ministry - could fire people just for being werewolves.'

Lily took the paper from her and frowned, 'But there wasn't an immediate upsurge in attacks,' she said. (Across the room, Mary rolled her eyes and tutted very loudly, Lily ignored her.) 'Not for another fifteen years. The laws were becoming increasingly draconian for them, but something was holding them back - until the mid 1950s… What happened?'

'Oh for Merlin's sake!' Across the room, Mary slammed her book shut and glared at Lily and Mandy, before getting to her feet and stomping over to them. 'Look, I know you fancy yourself as some kind of magical Nancy Drew…'

( 'Who's Nancy Drew?' Mandy whispered to Lily)

'God knows, you're both ginger, but there really is no mystery here. Werewolves are animals. They're monsters. They're dangerous and dirty and they kill people. And that's the end of it.'

'You're wrong,' Lily said coldly. 'Nancy Drew is "strawberry blonde".' Mary tutted. 'And if you can't get a simple fact like that right,' Lily continued more loudly, 'why should we listen to you on the rest? If Werewolves are mindless killers, how do you explain how few deaths there have actually been over the decades?'

Mary did not have an answer.

'Up until quite recently there have hardly been any werewolf attacks at all.'

'So what changed?' Mary asked.

Lily smiled at her sweetly. 'Well, that's why I'm doing my Nancy Drew impression .'

With a snort of disgust, Mary turned on her heel and stormed off. Lily just shook her head and returned to perusing the papers without saying another word.

Mandy stared around helplessly for a moment - gazing after Mary, who was sulking, and then looking at Lily, working quietly, and then back again. 'So…Who is Nancy Drew?' she demanded.

…

The very next day, their girl detective credentials were to be tested, however, when they happened across the scene of a crime. It was actually Mary who found it first, when she rounded the corner on her way to Transfiguration. Three students had been attacked; one had had her feet frozen to the floor with the glacio jinx, so great cubes of ice has formed over her shoes and stuck her to the spot - which would have been enough for her to be howling in pain, but her hands had also been set on fire and she was frantically flapping them about and screaming in agony . A second had had a rope lashed around their waist and been hung from the rafters and then badly transfigured into a monstrous slug, which oozed and thrashed about in the air in distress. A third had simply and crudely been bludgeoned unconscious.

Mary gaped at the sight, she gripped her wand but didn't know what to do - her mind went blank of all spells - and so just stood, frozen and helpless and mesmerised by the flames.

'If we can just work out what was going on between 1941 and 1954…' Lily's voice floated around the corner, and Mary turned to look - desperate for help from any quarter, even an apostate.

Lily and Mandy appeared, and came to a dead stop. 'Oh my god!' Mandy squealed. But Lily, used to attacks from all sides, had whipped her wand out. 'Exstinguo,' she cried, and blue sparks flew from her wand, and extinguished the flames burning on the poor student's hands, and then just as quickly, 'Regelo, ' and red sparks flew, and the ice at their feet began to thaw.

Mandy caught the girl as she collapsed, sobbing, and lowered her to the floor - whispering soothing words, while Lily turned her wand on the thrashing slug. ' Dissuo, ' the transfiguration wore off, but the poor boy was no less anguished and he continued to struggle in the air. 'Get ready, Mary.'

'What?'

'Secaro.' With a wave of her wand, the rope was cut and the boy plummeted to the floor, Mary only just reacting in time to catch him from crashing to the ground. He landed on her heavily.

There came the sound of footsteps then, and laughing voices, and the four Gryffindor boys rounded the corner and - just as Lily and Mandy had done - came to a dead stop, blinking and astonished.

'Go get help,' Lily yelled at them, as she checked on the unconscious student. 'Get McGonagall - get Madam Pomfrey - go!'

The boys seemed to blink at her for what seemed like an age of stupidity in her impatient and adrenaline infused mind, but then they nodded and blundered off down the corridor, seeking a teacher, and Lily felt herself relax - a wave of relief washing over her now help was on the way, but which left her trembling with aftershock.

'This - this is why we need The League,' Mary said, once all was quiet again, save for the whimpers of the attacked students. 'This was sick. Dark magic. This is why we're needed. Come on, Lils, you must see. You have to join us again.'

But Lily shook her head, staring up at the blank, stone wall and taking in its emptiness and what that meant. 'There's no Dark Mark,' she said slowly.

'What?'

'When the mini- Knights, the Death Eater wannabes, attack someone they draw a Dark Mark on the wall - just like it's the real thing. To let us know they've been here.'

'Well… maybe we disturbed them…'

'No.' She looked down at the three students they had just saved. 'Look at them, Mary. You know every muggleborn in the school - we both do. These aren't muggleborns. They're Ravenclaws. Bystanders . It wasn't the Slytherins who did this… it was The League.'

Mary only stared at her in shock.

…

Transfiguration was cancelled, and the three girls - along with the three Ravenclaws - were taken to the Hospital Wing by Madam Pomfrey, when she arrived, and treated for shock. The boys found themselves in front of Big Macca (who was practically breathing flames, herself) being asked questions to which they did not know the answer.

'We just found them all like that, Evans was yelling - everyone was on the floor. She told us to get help and we did.'

'And not a moment too soon, Mr. Potter.'

'Er - Professor - the girl whose hands set on fire? Will she be alright?' Remus asked.

Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared to an alarming degree before she answered. 'Madam Pomfrey knows what she is doing,' she said - which Remus could not help but notice was not a "yes".

Mary sat on her bed in the hospital wing, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, biting into the block of chocolate Madam Pomfrey had given her. The three Ravenclaw students were hidden behind bed curtains. Across the ward, she could hear Lily already chatting about werewolves again (though Mandy was still very quiet). She felt numb, or sick, or both. Her brain was all foggy and her toes seemed very distant, as if they were not properly attached to the rest of her.

The door banged open, and Petra arrived - flushed and breathless. 'Mary, I've just heard - how are you? What happened?'

'Where were you?' Mary asked vaguely. 'I was at breakfast by myself.'

'Emergency Quidditch practice - you know what Beth's like. We're a player down, no one to replace Potter yet and the last match coming up…'

'Yes… Potter's not in The League.'

'No - and he's off the team. I'm sorry. I should have been there with you. Are you alright?'

'I… don't know.'

She was allowed to leave the Hospital Wing after break, but she remained quiet and confused for days (Lily, on the other hand, seemed to have bounced back appallingly quickly). Petra was caring and concerned and considerate whenever she was around but, between emergency Quidditch practises and late night League patrols, there was still an awful lot of time where Mary found herself by herself and with nothing but the attacks to dwell on. She could still hear the poor girl's screams in her head, and see the flames whenever she closed her eyes.

When the next League meeting rolled around, Mary attended, the same as she always did, but as she stood there - waiting for it to start - she couldn't help overhearing snippets of conversation from her fellow members; snippets of conversation she found she did not much like the sound of.

'I transfigured a bystander into a chicken and left them to wander off into the forest,' she heard Ellis Stebbins boasting to his friends, 'I got the idea from that nutter, Black, turning me into a canary - bet he wishes he hadn't done it now; now one of his cowardly friends has probably been cooked and eaten by the centaurs.' There was a roar of approving laughter.

'A portrait told me that there's a mirror that opens up on the fourth floor,' Lucien Riffkind of Hufflepuff was saying. 'So I lured a filthy little apostate there, the one that just announced they were quitting The League to their friends, and I trapped him behind it. I sealed the mirror shut with a spell. Merlin knows how he'll get out.'

'I hope there's enough oxygen,' his friend said, but Riffkind only shrugged.

'He should have thought of that before he turned his back on what matters.'

She turned her head slightly and could see Petra, with the rest of the Gryffindor team, discussing what to do about still being a player down. 'Maybe we should just play without anyone,' Belvedere Johnson said. 'Make a stand - we'd rather play with thin air than a craven bystander, we'd rather lose the cup than associate with someone like Potter…'

Everywhere she turned she could hear groups of friends talking, boasting, about bystanders they had hexed, apostates they had cursed, laughing about how they were chasing down and torturing any dissenters they could find in the castle. And it was suddenly like she could see them for the first time. Their words rang in her ears, she felt like she was peering through a thick fog and she felt as distant from them as if they were on another planet. And then it hit her: she wasn't one of them any more.

Without even waiting for Malidictus to arrive and begin his speech, she turned and slipped out of the Great Hall. She walked alone through the empty corridors of the castle, her footsteps echoing eerily on the flagstones. Her heart was pounding in her chest at the thought of what she had just done - but she kept on walking, one foot in front of the other, until she reached Gryffindor Tower.

The common room was empty except for Lily and Mandy (everyone else being at the meeting) and they were still combing through the old newspapers for clues about werewolf history. They looked up in surprise as she came inside; she gave them a nervous smile and then - without saying a word - sat at their table, picked up an old copy of The Daily Prophet and started to read.

…

The next day was Wednesday, and that meant Defence Against the Dark Arts as the very first lesson. 'Don't worry too much, Mary,' Lily said as they headed towards the classroom. 'Between the three of us and the boys, there's so many apostates and bystanders in the room that Malidictus won't really have time to pick on you specifically. And if he does - well - it just shows what an idiot he is. Honestly, a grown man picking on children…' she shook her head.

'I just wish Petra would join us,' Mandy sighed, looking ahead to where Petra was stalking away from them, all alone. 'If we could all just be together again, then everything would be alright… And she looks so lonely.'

'I think it's harder for Petra to walk away,' Mary told the others. 'The Dark Lord killed her uncle, and they never found him. You know she has nightmares about him having been turned into an inferius?'

The others made concerned and sympathetic noises.

Mary nodded. 'That's why her boggart is one. I think she thinks, if she leaves The League, it's like she's turning her back on him, saying his death doesn't matter any more. Besides - she's on the Quidditch team.'

'What's that got to do with it?' Lily asked incredulously.

'Well - after they kicked off Potter for being a bystander, she isn't going to go against them and lose her place as well. I mean Potter's Potter , isn't he? He's a prodigy. Whether he plays for Gryffindor or not, he's still going to play for England. But Petra - she's good enough, but she isn't under any illusions about going pro one day. School Quidditch is all she'll get - she doesn't want to give it up.'

Lily wrinkled her nose. 'Is Potter really that good? That he'll be international one day?'

'Well I don't know enough about it,' Mary said with a shrug, 'but that's what Petra reckons. She's just annoyed he's not Irish, because any team with him on will win for sure, she says.'

Lily felt something in her chest - a small kernel of being deeply impressed, but she very quickly pushed it down. What did it matter if Potter was play-for-England good at Quidditch? It was a stupid, pointless thing to be good at anyway, and he would still be an insufferable arse.

She was relieved when Mandy, apparently uninterested in Potter's prowess, turned the conversation back to Petra - yes… Petra, that was who she should be thinking about.

…

They arrived at Defence and took their seats. Malidictus raked his eyes over the three of them coldly, and then did the same to the four boys sitting in the back. 'Settle down everyone,' he said, in his snappish and irritable voice. Once the class was settled he took a silver knife out of his desk drawer and held it up so the sunlight glittered on its sharp and cruel blade.

Without meaning to, and though he was the entire classroom away, Remus shrank back. If Malidictus noticed, he did not say anything.

'Can anyone tell me why I have brought this implement into our lesson today?' he asked the class.

Ellis Stebbins raised his hand. 'It's silver, sir, deadly to werewolves.'

'Precisely. Werewolves are deathly allergic to silver, to touch it even for a moment can cause the most terrible - and distinctive - burns -' his eyes raked across Remus again. Remus stared determinedly at the desk in front of him, trying to ignore the ringing of blood in his ears as Malidictus continued talking. 'It is because silver is a pure metal, the dirtiness inherent in a werewolf's soul, cannot bear to come in contact with such purity.'

Remus clenched his fist, but otherwise did not react.

Lily stuck her hand in the air. 'If that is true, why are werewolves not allergic to other pure metals?'

Malidictus ignored her.

A little tremulously, Mary raised her own hand. 'My mum's allergic to silver,' she said. 'My dad bought her a fancy necklace once, and it turned her neck green. He had to take it back. It's not actually that uncommon… My mum's not a werewolf, though. She's a muggle.'

'Evil cannot bear purity,' Malidictus said, his teeth were clenched and eyes were flashing darkly, but other than that there was no sign he had been interrupted. 'And, while most lifeforms are deathly allergic to a blade through the heart, the safest and most foolproof way of killing a werewolf is to stab it with a blade of silver.'

Remus closed his eyes. Beside him, Sirius's hand went up so fast it was like he was punching the air. 'Sir, last year Dumbledore told us that - while he was Headmaster - no one in this school would be taught how to kill a werewolf,' he said, without waiting to be asked what he wanted.

Malidictus stared at him coldly. 'The situation has changed,' he said. 'It has worsened considerably in the last year, and our tactics must reflect that.'

'Has Dumbledore said he wants you to teach us this? Has he changed his mind?'

'Dumbledore does not have to approve my every lesson plan, Mr. Black.'

'He might want to know about this one.'

'I will take your opinion under consideration. Now - unless you want to lose ten points from Gryffindor, I suggest you allow me to continue teaching.'

Still glowering mutinously, Sirius went quiet. Remus took a deep breath - and opened his eyes again.

'Now, being pure silver, it is a very heavy knife - this is no kitchen blade, this is a righteous weapon and anyone hoping to wield one needs to be prepared for it - needs to know how to handle it. So, I am going to pass it around, I want everyone to hold it, feel the weight, get a sense of the balance - and then imagine plunging into the heart of a slavering beast.'

Remus closed his eyes again. His fists were clenched so tightly, his nails were digging into the palms of his hands.

Malidictus passed the knife to the Ravenclaw boys, who took it eagerly, passing it back and forth among them, exclaiming loudly and jabbing it through the air as if practising thrusting into the heart of a werewolf. They needed to be told by Malidictus to share it around, and - reluctantly - Stebbins passed it to Bettina Bagshot, who was no less interested in the artefact.

When it was handed back to Lily, she took it with a look of distaste on her face, bounced her hand up and down while holding it - as if feeling the weight - and then, as quickly as she could, handed it to Mandy. Mandy and Mary were no more enthusiastic, and - far quicker than the Ravenclaws had relinquished it - Mary gave the knife to James.

Like Lily, his expression was one bordering on disgust. He had barely held it for a moment before it passed it into Sirius's hands. Sirius turned it over. He didn't once look at the knife, but instead maintained eye contact with Malidictus, scowling as darkly as he could. And then - without breaking his gaze - he leaned right across Remus and handed the knife directly to Peter.

Up at the front, Malidctius saw what he did, and his eyes narrowed.

…

At the end of the lesson, the Gryffindors left to go to Potions, and the fourth years were replaced by a seventh year Defence class. At the end of second period, as he dismissed his NEWT students, Malidictus called Bertha Jorkins up to the front. 'You've been following those fourth year bystander boys, haven't you?' he asked her.

'Yes,' she said proudly.

'What do you make of them?'

'There's something not right about them - especially the sickly one, Lupin.'

'Agreed.' He smiled at her. 'You are a fine member of The League, Bertha, a credit to our cause. I need you to do me a favour. Stick close to those boys, watch what they do, follow them everywhere… especially the sickly one… Lupin.'

…

From then on out the boys found that they were living with an extremely annoying guard dog or extra shadow. Bertha went with them everywhere, whenever they turned around - there she was - notebook out and watching them avidly.

'This is ridiculous,' James said, when they had had to duck into a broom cupboard to shake her yet again. 'What is she up to?'

'When does she have time to go to her own lessons?' asked Peter, 'Doesn't she have her exams coming up?'

But Bertha seemed far less concerned with her passing her upcoming NEWTS than she did with dogging the boys' every step. It got to the point where they couldn't even go to the toilet without finding her waiting outside for them, and she even happened across them (much to their complete mortification) lurking outside by an empty stretch of wall holding one of their time honoured competitions (Remus won of course).

'That's it!' Sirius said (once he had put his todger away), 'we're not putting up with this anymore.' And so they started on a mission of ducking, dodging, weaving and hexing Bertha at every turn.

On Monday, James hit her with a bat bogey hex, and Remus pushed her into a venomous tentacular plant (it wasn't teething at the time). On Tuesday, Peter attempted to freeze her, but his wand backfired and - dazed and a little bit charred - his friends had to drag him away, while Bertha walked off unscathed. On Wednesday, Sirius turned the full might of his aguamenti spell on her, and she was knocked over like a ten pin - gasping and choking as the water splooshed over her in a tidal wave.

Thursday was the day before the full moon, and Remus was feeling achy and fractious, and the four boys spent as much time as they could hiding up in their dorm. 'I don't believe it,' Peter said, peering out of the window, 'look - she's right beneath the tower!' James and Sirius peered out as well (Remus stayed lying on his bed, moaning feebly).

'Come on - let's get her,' and James picked up the wastepaper basket and tipped the contents out of the window, emptying it over Bertha's unsuspecting head.

'Nice one, James,' Sirius took the now empty bin, filled it with water and then dumped that over Bertha's head - they heard her squawk with indignation from down below.

'We could drop the puffskeins on her,' James said, picking them up.

'No!' Sirius snatched them out of his hands, shaking his head ('and they call me a nutter,') and then, with a flick of his wand, he created an army of paper darts which he sent zooming out of the window, bombarding Bertha like a swarm of angry birds. She shrieked.

'Let's just throw something heavy out,' James said. 'Pete-'

'You're not throwing me out!'

'No! Here, help me shift my nightstand.'

'You can't drop that on her,' Sirius said.

'Oh, it won't kill her!'

'No - but it's got our animagus potions in. Here - Pete's trunk, throw that.'

So Peter and James hefted Pete's trunk up and onto the windowsill. Sirius sat on the next windowsill and leaned out. 'Oi, Bertha!' he shouted. 'Look out!' She looked up, saw the trunk coming tumbling through the air towards her, screamed and made a run for it. The trunk smashed onto the ground below, right where she had been standing, it popped open on impact and all of Pete's belongings were thrown everywhere.

'Did we win?' Remus asked blearily, from his sick bed. 'Did she go?'

'We won,' Sirius hopped down from the sill and climbed onto the bed with Remus, giving his hand a squeeze. 'She's gone.'

Peter was still peering out of the window though. 'Er - who's going to help me pick all that up?'

…

Professor McGonagall gave them all a detention for throwing a trunk out of their window (and was deeply uninterested as to why they had done it). But, despite her near death experience, it seemed that their antics of the previous evening had done nothing to deter big Bertha, and she spent Friday - the day of the full moon - following them around just as determinedly as ever.

'What am I going to do?' Remus asked the others, at lunchtime. 'How am I going to shake her so I can go to the Hospital Wing?'

'Diversionary tactics,' James said solemnly. 'Men - we're going to have to distract her. Pete, I fear you may have to moon her.'

'I'm not mooning anyone!' Peter cried, horrified.

'It's for a good cause.'

'She's already seen your knob, mate,' Sirius said nonchalantly. 'What difference does it make if she sees your arse?'

But Peter remained adamant that his rear was remaining firmly beneath his robes, and so they needed a Plan B.

As it was April, and the days were getting longer, Remus did not need to go straight to the Hospital Wing after tea and so they went back to the common room for a game of gobstones. When it was time for him to leave, the other three went with him.

Sure enough, Bertha was lurking not far from the portrait of the Fat Lady. As soon as they spotted her, the boys scattered in various directions. James and Pete made a dash towards the direction of the owlery (despite James' advice, Peter kept all body parts covered). Sirius ran downwards, making his way towards the library and that left Remus free to head towards the Hospital Wing. Their thinking was she could not follow them all…

… Unfortunately, she chose to ignore the other three and follow Remus.

His bones felt like they were on fire, he was weary and achy and feverish and really not up to a rollercoaster race around the castle, trying to dodge nosy Bertha, but he still did his best - running as fast as he could, ducking around corners, taking secret passages, hiding behind tapestries. But she was implacable, and did not give up.

Eventually, about two floors down from the Hospital Wing, and while he was looking over his shoulder to see where she was, he bumped straight into her. 'Oof!'

'There you are!'

'Why are you here?'

She sniffed. 'I could ask the same of you.'

He shook his head, swore fluently under his breath and then barged past her and started running again.

'Oi - wait up! Where are you going?' She was taller than him, with longer legs, and he was so under the weather he felt ready to drop, and so it was no surprise she was gaining on him. 'I said - wait!' she reached out and grabbed hold of his shoulder.

Losing his temper (or perhaps his mind) he swung around, pointed his wand at her and yelled 'Levicorpus!' just like he had seen Evan Rosier do.

Once again, she shrieked as she was hoisted upside down into the air by her ankle. Remus stared at her, slightly wide eyed, for a moment, as she dangled there, revolving slowly - and then, he seized his opportunity and made a run for it.

…

The other three boys had returned to the common room and met up in front of the fire. 'Did she go after you?' James asked Sirius eagerly.

'No - I thought she went after you.'

'No. Pete wouldn't show her his arse.'

'Well neither would anyone else!' objected Peter.

Sirius looked troubled. 'I hope Moony got away OK,' he said.

…

Across the room, Lily, Mandy and Mary were sitting quietly at a table still combing through old copies of The Daily Prophet. 'So this Fenrir was bitten in '41,' Mary was saying, 'but the increase in killings didn't happen until '54.'

'I found this,' Mandy said, rooting through her pile of papers. 'This came from 1954 as well - it's just a short piece, but it's about a werewolf called Torstan Burnblade who they think has left Britain and moved to continental Europe.'

'You know, I think I found something else about him,' Lily said absently, also shifting through the old newspapers. 'Something about a disagreement between him and Greyback…' She pulled loose one of the Prophets she had been looking through, but frowned when she saw it was dated 1965 - and thus was too late.

'There seems to have been a bit of a war,' Mary was saying. 'Between these two werewolves. Which is why not many people were bitten - because they were too busy biting each other.'

'But by the look of it Burnblade lost, and that's when Greyback starts killing in earnest,' Mandy agreed, nodding her head. 'And Malidictus would have been the head of the werewolf hunters at the Ministry this whole time.'

Lily was staring at the article in the newspaper from 1965. It reported that a little boy had been bitten at the February full moon, just before his fifth birthday. The boy had vanished and no one was sure if he had lived or died. She glanced out of the window, where the full moon was not yet fully risen, and then looked over at the fire - where the three boys were sitting, playing gobstones. Remus was not with them.

She frowned, and then hid the paper underneath all the others, so Mary and Mandy would not see it.

'I just still don't understand why Malidictus cares so much,' she heard Mary say. 'There's nothing here to explain why he would hate them more than anyone else.'

'Maybe we need to go further back,' Mandy suggested.

Lily looked up at that. 'Before '41, you mean? I've left all the newspapers even older than that up in the dorm. I'll go and get them.' She bundled up the mid 20th century newspapers and went upstairs to swap them for the early 20th century ones, trying not to read too much into Remus's absence. (Sev had always had his theories, but then Mrs. Lupin had died and Lily had sworn off snooping. That was three years ago now and she was sticking to it.)

She brought the ancient and yellowing Daily Prophets back down to the common room, divvied them up between her friends and, quietly, they sat and pored over them. It was about an hour later that Lily found an interesting reference to a werewolf killing in a muggle village - dating back to 1924.

…

Severus had had a detention with Flitwick that night, for casting a chirruping charm on some first year girls who had been annoying him as he studied - he had removed their voices and made them tweet like birds. They had sounded more intelligent that way, anyway. So now he was late heading back to the Slytherin dungeon.

He took a staircase down, rounded a corner and then came to a stop. Bertha Jorkins was in the corridor. Upside down. Dangling in mid air. Someone had been using his hexes again - and had left the evidence lying around (or hanging about, as it were).

Her face was a deep purple, from where all the blood had rushed to her head, and she was starting to look woozy. It seemed like she had been there a long time. Not wanting to be caught with her like this, and to take the blame for it, he waved his wand and uttered the counter curse (he had worked out what it was now) and - with a yelp - she tumbled downwards and crashed in a heap on the floor.

She didn't move. He nudged her with his toe. She seemed to be unconscious. Perhaps she had hit her head when she fell. He was just about to walk away and leave her when he caught sight of movement, outside in the grounds, out of the corner of his eye. He crossed to the window and peered out.

It was Madam Pomfrey, crossing the lawn. He could tell because of her headdress. And she wasn't alone, there was a boy with her - tall, with brown hair… Lupin. He was sure it was Lupin. There was something distinctive about the way Lupin walked, all gangling, awkward limbs - like a colt - and Pomfrey's companion walked exactly the same.

He had seen the two of them cross the grounds together once before, he remembered. Way back in the mists of first year, when he had been brand new to the castle. And here they were, taking another evening stroll.

He stood at the window and watched as they walked down the lawn and round the lake until they were just tiny dots in the distance. He stood on his tiptoes and craned his neck trying to see where they were headed. The dots came to a stop by the Whomping Willow. He couldn't clearly make out what was going on but then, after a short while, the dot that was Madam Pomfrey started walking back towards the castle, growing bigger every moment.

She was alone. Wherever she had taken Lupin, she had left him there.

Snape stood by the window, Bertha Jorkins still unconscious at his feet, and watched as the matron returned to the school, and the sky grew darker, and the full moon rose…