Dear Ellie,

I thought it best to tell you before news spread. Mr. Mulciber is to be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. He has made some troubling accusations. Be careful and cautious. Tell Ned the same.

Love,

Edward Selwyn

"It's a very dangerous time in the Wizarding World for muggleborns. They should have explained that to you before you came here, but I don't think anyone expected you to be sorted into Slytherin," admitted Ellis, arranging the food she nicked from the kitchen out in front of her. Michael Ainsley had a swollen eye and according to Professor Slughorn performed a fabulous jinx during his DADA class.

She cut her time in the second-floor lavatory short for the day to eat lunch with the first-year. The courtyard they were in was behind the greenhouses and rarely occupied unless someone wanted to be pulled into helping Professor Kettleburn or Professor Sprout for the afternoon. She didn't know what Michael liked, but the house elves of Hogwarts always knew. She expected a bit more of a sophisticated taste from the boy, but apparently sausage pasties were his favorite.

The food was a distraction from the subject matter, but it wasn't serving its purpose very well.

"Salazar Slytherin was of the idea that people with muggle parents didn't deserve entry into Hogwarts. He thought that they would…dirty…the blood of other wizarding children. He said that they'd never be able to learn magic in the same way. That they were simple and hard to teach. Slytherin believed that Hogwarts should be kept…pure."

"Pure?" asked Michael, brow furrowing. "Like…like pureblood. Someone called you that."

Ellis nodded, "My family is very old. We were wizards before the conquest of England all the way back to the Roman Empire. We've always been wizards and made sure to stay that way, so I'm no better than the rest of them, but…" Her body tensed with unease, feeling as if she were the wrong person to provide this explanation. "…there are families that are much more extreme than mine. Families that believe that no muggleborn should be allowed in the wizarding world or that muggles steal magic or that wizards should be the ones living above muggles and not hiding. People who follow Lord Voldemort have been targeting muggleborns and hurting them. Killing them."

Ellis looked down at Michael, leaning forward as she rested a light hand on his shoulder. "Mudblood is a very bad word for people who have muggle parents."

"They're saying that I'm dirty," he deduced, mouth twisting. He tore at the edge of his napkin, setting his lunch aside.

"Yes."

"And they want to hurt me because of that?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll kill them first," he said hotly, reminding Ellis of Ned for the briefest moment. "I'm not going to let some stupid jerks think they're better than me. Half of them don't even know how to hold their wands right."

There weren't a great many ways to be brave in Slytherin. Most of them were willing to step over one another if it meant saving their own neck, but she supposed that it took a great deal of pride and ambition to remain true to yourself and if that was what bravery was, then she didn't mind it at all.

"I'll only be here until next year," said Ellis, lightly, trying and failing at smiling. "But I suppose I could teach you how to put them in their place."

"Are you good at that? You seem too nice."

Her smile felt a little more real then. She leaned down, whispering so only he could hear, "Niceness and goodness aren't the same thing."

Following her lunch, Ellis tracked up to the Owlery to deliver a response to her father's letter. She didn't like how brief it was—he was usually a fantastic letter writer—but she assumed he was busy. He was always busy these days. Voldemort's followers were numerous, and Barty Crouch Sr. and the new Minister of Magic seemed intent on holding a trial every day for the lowest of henchmen to people like Mr. Mulciber, who were in Voldemort's inner circle. Mr. Mulciber was caught by accident, following an attack on a muggle village which burned several houses down and left at least a dozen people dead.

The Owlery carried the heavy, earthy scent that chicken coops shared. Ellis, despite being a witch, could not understand why they hadn't invented a better mailing system than birds. The muggles had figured it out, why couldn't they? With all their magic and genius? It was messy and required them to also keep mice and other small animals to feed the owls and, most of the time, the letters gained the scent of a menagerie.

Ned had an owl named Weedpicker. Ellis liked animals, but she wasn't very interested in caring for one. Sending off her letter, she decided to have a long overdue crying session. There wasn't much of a chance to cry in the dorms—if anyone caught her, the whole school would know by morning. It had only been about a week, but a week of constant anxiety, the terrifying fear that she'd wake up and find a boy dead, that she'd turn the corner and Mulciber would be there waiting with an Imperius Curse, had compounded to the point that she hadn't even found Regulus' usual brand of banter entertaining that morning.

She expected to shed a few tears, wipe them away, and continue with her day as usual.

Ellis was not so lucky.

The wind and the constant hooting masked the sound of approaching footsteps. Just as Ellis was about to let out a loud wail into the open archway—fueling the rumor that the Owlery was haunted—she was abruptly yanked back and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. Tears streaked her face but stopped instantly in shock.

"Are you crying?" asked James Potter, voice so loud she was sure the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest heard him. "Merlin's beard, you're not going to jump, are you?!"

Jump? Heavens, no. Ellis had yet to achieve the level of fame that could warrant suicide. Plus, who would spend her father's hard-earned money?

"I'm sad, not suicidal." She rubbed at her face, pinching her cheeks to try and bring some color back to them and make her swollen eyes less obvious.

"Why are you sad?" asked James, bewildered.

She was stressed and angry at some nameless thing and exhausted, which all made her sad. It was a destress-cry. Ellis knew from experience that boys didn't understand such things. Whenever her mother cried, her father would nearly self-destruct trying to figure out the source of her sadness. Sometimes one just needed to cry.

"All my classmates are joining a maniac on a quest towards self-annihilation, and I had to explain to an eleven-year-old that most of our House wants him dead. I think I'm warranted a few tears, Potter."

He opened his mouth, perhaps to dispute her statement, but thought better of it. "Ainsley, right?" asked James. He looked torn between leaving and staying but eventually came to settle down on the floor next to her. "Lily was worried about that too but, we're at Hogwarts. Dumbledore won't let anything happen."

"Potter, there are probably Death Eaters attending this school."

"Do you know who?" James hesitated, then started to ask, "Did Re—" He caught himself, cutting off the question.

"Regulus?"

James looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. His voice was tight with regret as if he'd revealed something meant to remain secret, "Sirius worries."

Ellis rolled her eyes, "Oh, I'm sure he does."

"He's still his brother," said James quietly. "He doesn't talk about it…not at all anymore…but he's always looking over there. It's not as easy for him to be like you. Not with his family."

"When did he start caring about what his family wanted?"

"He doesn't, but from what I've heard, Regulus does."

"I don't know," said Ellis, shaking her head. It was a half-truth. She could name a few Death Eaters right then and there, but she didn't want to think about what would happen to her family if she snitched about such things. If her father were asking, she would tell him in a heartbeat, but this was Potter. "I'd rather not know. It's hard enough having to hear them brag about what they'll do when they're out of here."

"And Snape…he's…he's in that group?"

"If Evans is smart, she'd forget she knew him."

James rubbed his face harshly, a flash of worry crossing his face. It was alarming to see careless, reckless Potter, worry about anything. He was trying to become an Auror, Ellis heard. He'd be on the frontlines of the war. It was a stupidly brave endeavor, but now she suspected that it was not simply about bravery, but about protecting someone he truly loved. She wondered if Lily Evans was aware that Potter's declarations of love weren't simply a grab for attention.

"I was… uh… here to send Lily a love letter, actually," James admitted, scratching the back of his head. "She's been fighting with her sister, and it's really upsetting her. Probably not the best idea right now, though, now that I think about it."

Ellis raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. All of Hogwarts seemed to be held hostage by the ongoing saga of James Potter and Lily Evans. In Ellis's opinion, Lily should just swallow her pride and put an end to the spectacle once and for all.

"Girls get jealous, you know? If you really want to get under her skin, stop flirting with her and flirt with someone else."

"I don't want to do that to her. I like her and I'd rather not play with her feelings like that."

Ellis laughed and maybe started crying again too. Who even was James Potter? And how on earth did Lily Evans manage to continue hating him when he was so stupidly honest? She didn't think she'd seen such a genuine show of heart in her life. Once, in her first year, she had burst into tears in the common room because she missed her mother and father and home. Rather than comfort her, for weeks after, she would face Barty's fake tears in the Great Hall. Having a weakness was frowned upon. No one took off their mask in the Slytherin common room.

But here was James Potter, baring his heart without hesitation or shame. It was baffling, endearing, and a little maddening all at once.

"Sorry, sorry," said Ellis, waving off James' worry. "It's just not how we do it."

"Yeah, I know."

"We're…we're really shitty people," admitted Ellis.

"Sirius is like that too sometimes. I love him, but Merlin, he drives me crazy. He's got all these things he's trying to fix inside himself, but he got out. I bet it's a lot worse on your side."

James patted her back gently. She'd hexed him a few dozen times over the last six years. There was a point where wearing green was enough to get you pranked by the Marauders and Ellis wasn't in the business of waking up bald. But…she thought…that James Potter had learned, matured, and maybe had even become somewhat tolerable ever since he took Sirius Black in. The responsibility of caring for someone forced him to look at the world with a wider gaze and perhaps realize that much of the problems Sirius faced with his family were exasperated in an endless cycle of violent tyranny within Slytherin.

"Yeah." She sniffled and rubbed her nose, "Evans is in the Slug Club, right?"

"Slughorn loves her."

"I have an invitation to his party on Saturday. You could use it, if you want." James Potter had been banned from Slughorn's gatherings after setting fire to his entire liquor supply in his third year. Professor Slughorn never quiet regained the goodwill he once had, despite being a big fan of Fleamont Potter.

"You're not going?"

Ellis shook her head. It was bad manners to break a promise, but she wasn't up to partying. "I'm not one for parties."

"That's stupid," said James, face twisting with displeasure. "Everyone loves parties. Do…do you not know how to have fun? Ned talks about you sometimes and every time he does, it's like you're the biggest grinch on the planet."

"Grinch?"

"It's this green, furry thing from a muggle story. Hates Christmas. Tries to steal it to ruin everything for everyone, but then his heart grows three times—see!" James pointed at her scowl. "Exactly the kind of a face a grinch makes."

"I know how to have fun. I choose not to."

"Why?"

"I love misery."

"Alright, let's go together then."

"What?"

"You'll be miserable, and I'll teach you to have fun that way you don't take a purposeful fall off any high towers. Merlin's beard, it's a long way down, don't you think? Never noticed it before."

"I'm not suicidal," repeated Ellis.

"Not yet, but with the way things are going, I don't think there's going to be much to be happy about. Might as well make the most of it." James clutched his coat tightly and grinned down at her. "Come on, Selwyn, think about how absolutely stupid everyone will be about it."

People were absolutely stupid about it. James Potter took the chance to dress up a bit and slicked back his hair with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, which she was sure he had no problems acquiring. For a moment, he looked like the picture-perfect pureblood bachelor, until he opened his mouth, let out a loud, high-pitched whistle, and waved her over wildly.

"Whoa, Selwyn, you really are a girl."

She was regretting this already. A pained look crossed her face. She did like parties. Loved them. Was never one to turn down a dance. But she didn't like networking or meeting new people and those skills were necessary to survive a night with Professor Slughorn. It was a waste of a good dress to go back to the common room now when everyone had seen her leave.

"He's with me," said Ellis, blandly. Cresswell, who had been stationed at the door, blinked looking a bit stunned as James ducked his head into the threshold to look for Lily.

All the chatter stopped as soon as they stepped in the room. Professor Slughorn's quarters were decorated with velvet curtains and rich tapestries. It smelled like cloves and pine. There drinks were all poured into fine crystal flutes, carried on goblin-silver treys, a neat little touch that spoke of Professor Slughorn's hidden wealth. The house elves from the kitchen scurried between people's legs, avoiding their knees at every turn. She heard he'd done very well for himself after placing a neat bet on France beating England during the Quidditch World Cup that past summer.

The walrus-like man bumbled up to them, smile half frozen as James threw his hand out to greet Professor Slughorn emphatically. Professor Slughorn's eyes met hers, a despondent admission of defeat hiding within his gaze.You've won, now please take him.

Ellis, in a very un-Ellis-like fashion, took James' arm and gently guided him away to where she saw Lilly Evans looking fashionable in a muggle dress that was a deep shade of green, matching perfectly with her eyes. She watched her and James as if they were unsolvable puzzle. Though it wasn't jealously, it was close enough to make her less likely to deny every one of James' advances going forward. No one dated James Potter. He was strange, loud, and lanky. His idea of romance involved charming owls to hoot in harmony while he sang a rendition of "How Deep Is Your Love."

"We're just friends," announced James, loudly.

Lily Evans look of shock was rather stunning and…a bit insulting. Ellis wasn't the friendliest person, sure, but she was decent. And she regularly awarded points to members of other houses—sure, it was based on an entirely selfish code of ethics, but how many Slytherins had codes of ethics?

"Uh…Po—James," she swallowed the bile down at the familiarity. Next, she'd be calling him Jim. "James has been checking in on Ainsley. He didn't want you to worry."

Lily's eyes soften considerably. "Mary and I were thinking of making some sort of support group for muggleborn students. Do you think he would join?"

"What's a support group?"

James jumped in, eager to explain. "Muggles do it to share their feelings or when they're trying to overcome a problem like alcoholism or drug-use."

"Feelings," repeated Ellis, distastefully. She couldn't think of a worst way to waste time. "Right, well, I can ask. Why don't you two talk that out and I'll go…snog…the curtains?"

Ellis drifted around the room, effortlessly dodging any attempts at conversation. There were a few goblins at the party and even a man who looked to be half-troll, which she was sure Professor Slughorn would tell them about in class.

Ellis smoothed her dress robes absentmindedly, feeling out of place despite her carefully chosen attire. The robes were a rich navy blue, their fabric shimmering faintly with an enchantment that caught the light like the surface of a lake and fell in clean lines that accentuated her slender frame. Helena had tamed her hair into polished waves that brushed against her shoulders, softening her sharp features.

When the party grew too stifling, she slipped to the outer edges of the room. A table shimmered under a soft, glow, its surface covered with a rich, velvet cloth. Dozens of goblets, tumblers, and flutes made from goblin-wrought crystal caught and refracted the light. Ellis wrinkled her nose and picked one up at random.

"Don't drink that." someone warned suddenly, stretching his legs out to tap her ankle. She looked down, surprised to see Regulus Black slumped against the wall. He looked as though he'd come from a different party altogether—or from no party at all. His navy and silver robes were rumpled, his collar undone, and a lock of dark hair fell across his face in a way that would have seemed charming if not for the storm cloud of emotion clinging to him.

His voice was hoarse, his gaze sharp despite the flush in his cheeks. "It's strong."

Ellis glanced at the goblet resting near him, untouched. "Already had a taste?"

His lips twisted into a sardonic smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. He didn't answer her question. "You came in with Potter."

"I did."

"Good," he muttered, nodding his head. "Good, that's great. Fucking amazing. Good for you. All the bloodtraitors should stick together."

Ellis sighed, crouching down to her knees beside him. The cold stone floor bit into her skin. Regulus's head hung low, buried between his arms as he leaned heavily on the wall. The sheen of sweat on his brow and neck was worrying.

"You're drunk, Black."

"Did you have to come with him?" His voice cracked, and he didn't lift his head. There was something raw in the way his words scraped the air.

"It's not like that."

"No?" he asked, voice low, full of bitter doubt. He finally lifted his head. His grey eyes burned with a wild intensity that seemed to sear right through her. Her heart crawled its way into her throat, pulse thrumming beneath her skin.

"No," she said firmly, but her voice was quieter than she intended.

Regulus stared at her, his gaze lingering too long, too intensely. His thoughts were heavy on his face,unspoken but suffocating. Ellis dared not sink below the surface to try and read them; she wasn't sure she could handle what she might find. She wanted to ask if he was alright. If something had happened that he could not voice. Asking would crack something fragile between them, something he wasn't ready to face, and she wasn't ready to hold. She was always the one caring and never the one who was cared for. All her efforts abandoned. All her friends—friends? No, she had none of those.

Slytherins only knew the worst ways of being alive. Living became surviving.

He scared her sometimes, when he looked at her. She was frightened by the thought that he could see her—see that she was easily hurt and held long grudges and wasn't half as mean as she pretended to be.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice rough, uneven, as though he wanted her to hear the words but hated himself for saying them

Ellis froze, her breath hitching as if the air had been knocked out of her. For a moment, she thought she'd misheard him. The space between them shrunk. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.

"Fuck," he muttered, his eyes widening as realization hit him. He dragged a hand down his face, a sharp, shaky laugh escaping his lips."I didn't—" He laughed again. "I am drunk. I'm drunk. I'm—" He looked at her with bright, wild eyes. "Why are you wasting your time with me?"

"Do you want me to take you back to the common room?"

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose as he released a harsh, shuddering breath. He was quiet for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice low and strained. "No, I don't want that." His hand dropped limply to his side.

"You're ruining your dress."

Ellis glanced down at herself, the delicate fabric pooling around her knees. "I bought it a long time ago," she said, her voice softer now, almost absent.

"It's nice."

"Beautiful?" Ellis asked, smiling to lighten the air, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Nice," he corrected, his tone sharper, more deliberate. "The semantics of it matters. A dress is nice. The one wearing it ought to be beautiful."

"Never skipped an etiquette lesson, Black?"

"Never."

"You were the good one, then?

"I can be good." His voice dipped low and sent a shiver racing down her spine. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin as his fingers slid to her wrist. Slowly, deliberately, his hand moved down, brushing against hers before intertwining their fingers in a way that felt dangerously intimate. "Do you want that?"

Her laughter came out brittle, caught between nerves and a simmering heat that she didn't want to name. "Oh, you're very drunk."

She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip tightened, gentle yet unyielding. "Help me up," he said, though he didn't need her help. He was taller than her by a good amount and stronger in a way that Ellis liked. Not that she would ever admit it.

She shifted to her feet, her hand still caught in his. She tugged lightly, and he rose with a fluid grace that seemed at odds with his earlier state. Even standing, he didn't release her hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in a way that sent an unbidden warmth spiraling through her chest.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know," he said, shrugging carelessly. A lopsided grin pulled at his mouth. "Don't you like holding my hand, Selwyn?"

Her grip slackened as though his words burned her skin, and she pulled away abruptly. The cold air rushed into the space between them, prickling like needles. "Go get a sobering potion," she snapped, her tone cutting like a blade. "And pull yourself together. You're disgracing the name of Slytherin."

"I'm sure Salazar's rolling about in his grave because of me," he drawled lazily, "not the mudblood sleeping in his halls."

"He might be. You never know—history is written by the victors and Godric's a swot, isn't he?"

His grin widened as he tilted his head, the firelight catching the strands of his dark hair. "Does it kill you to be wrong? Physically harm you in some way?"

"I'm never wrong. I was born right, actually. At exactly midnight; the Witching Hour."

He rolled his eyes, though the teasing glint softened into something gentler. His hand twitched at his side, as though fighting the urge to reach for hers again. "Shall I give you a reward then?"

"I could beat you in a duel, don't you think?"

He laughed—a rich, unrestrained sound that Ellis seldom heard. "What—genuinely—is wrong with you?"

As her lips parted to say respond, his expression shifted. A shadow passed over his face, and the warmth in his eyes dimmed. "I should go," he said suddenly, his voice clipped. He stepped back, his jaw tightening as he avoided her gaze. "It's late…and I am drunk."

She stepped closer and he flinched away, the movement slight but unmistakable. Ellis searched his face, trying to decipher the emotions flickering there—guilt, fear, and a shadow of despair. But before she could say anything else, he took another step back, his expression hardening.

"Have fun with Potter, Selwyn."

And then he swept away, leaving her alone by the drinks, before she could stop him.

Ellis stood there, her chest tight, her hand still tingling from his touch.

Regulus was part of a world that was dark and dangerous, and Ellis did not belong there, much as she valued learning the Dark Arts, much as she felt a thread of glee when she first used an Unforgivable Curse, she liked magic for magic, not power. She had no room within herself for the ideals Regulus held. But she hated the way he'd looked at her just before he left—like he wanted to stay but couldn't let himself.

And she hated that part of her wanted him to stay, too.

James Potter found her as she was trying to escape. He was absurdly tall and seemed to have no sense of personal boundaries, because he bounded up to her and threw an arm around her shoulder, ushering her out of the party before Slughorn could even raise his glass to acknowledge her goodbye and remind her that she always had a place in the Slug Club. James had apparently charmed Lily enough that she was waiting outside in the hall.

"I've got tickets to the Howling Hexes," he explained as he guided them down the dark corridors. He had a piece of parchment in his hands that he would jerk up high whenever Ellis attempted to glance at it. It was some sort of map. "It was supposed to me and the boys, but Pete's in detention and Moony's not feeling too well. Sirius will meet us in Hogsmeade."

"Howling Hexes?" asked Lily, curiously.

"Wizarding band—they're very good," responded Ellis. "Stubby Broadman, Ravenclaw in my year, swears they're going to win a Wizzie for Spellbinding Performance."

"You're a Howling Hexes fan?" asked James, staring at her in surprise. "I took you for an Irving Warble ultra."

Ellis scoffed, "I don't even know who that is."

"Celestina Warbeck married him!"

Celestina Warbeck? That was someone her parents listened to. Ellis despised ballads and thought the only good song she had was "Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here," which was the unofficial anthem for Puddlemere United. "How old are you?" asked Ellis.

James flushed, muttered something about his parents being old and that it wasn't his fault he was behind with the times.

"The Howling Hexes are basically Led Zeppelin. Celestina Warbeck is Billie Holiday," explained Ellis, as Lily looked a bit lost. She tacked on, "We had a unit on music and film in Muggle Studies. Don't know why since none of that was on the exam."

She rubbed her nose, an angry expression crossing her face. The entire exam had been on muggle history and the witch-trials. Ellis' essay on the necessity of the Statute of Secretary was not well-liked by her professor who thought muggles had a right to know about the wizarding world.

Lily tucked a lock of hair back in the complicated mess of bobby pins and curls, looking shyer than Ellis expected of the most popular girl in school, "I don't listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network much."

"The WWN is censored by the Ministry. You've got to go to the backways if you want real music."

"Backways?"

"Knockturn Alley. Raven's Roost. Those sorts of places. If you're lucky, you can usually catch a gig there too."

"Don't go to any of those places," whispered James to Lily. "Not unless you want a hag drinking your blood."

"I've been to Knockturn Alley. Sever—" Lily shut her mouth abruptly, a scowl crossing her face. Ellis wanted to ask her to continue, if only for the sake of carrying the gossip back to Helena, so they'd have something to talk about. Severus Snape and Lily Evans friendship had been a source of much contention within the Slytherin common room, up until he went and called her a mudblood and cleanly severed any hope of his unrequited love being returned.

Ellis coughed, kicking James lightly.

"Is there any muggle music you like, Lily? Maybe we could go see—"

"I don't think you'd know them, Potter."

Cold. Ellis pressed her lips together to stop from laughing, but it was hard when there was such a pathetic sight before her.

"We're not actually going to a concert, are we?" asked Ellis, doubtfully.

James stopped abruptly; his hazel eyes alight with mischief as he stood before the statue of a hunched, humpbacked witch. Her one eye glared balefully at them beneath a tangle of jagged hair, her twisted fingers clutching a gnarled walking stick as though she might spring to life and whack them with it. Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, recalled Ellis. She invented a cure to Dragon Pox.

"What I'm about to reveal to you is a secret, but under a majority vote and a few threats, I was given permission." He raised his wand and, with a theatrical flourish, tapped it against the witch's stony figure. "Dissendium."

The response was immediate. A deep rumble vibrated through the corridor as the witch's statue began to shift, grinding against the stone floor. As she slowly slid aside, a narrow, gaping hole stretched into blackness. The faint scent of damp earth wafted up, mingling with a chilly draft that made Ellis shiver.

Her stomach dropped. "I'm going back to the dungeons," Ellis declared firmly, taking a step back. She turned to Lily, her gaze sharp and decisive. "Good luck, Evans. Try not to die."

Before she could make good on her escape, James reached out and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her back with an infuriatingly confident grin. "I promised you a night of fun, Selwyn, remember?"

Ellis glared at him, jerking her arm free. "I don't know what your idea of fun is, Potter, but mine doesn't involve creepy, bottomless holes. I have survival instincts."

"Does this lead to Hogsmeade?" Lily was peering over the edge of the passageway, her emerald eyes wide with curiosity. "Is that how Sirius got there?"

James grinned, clearly impressed by her quick deduction. "Yeah, it does."

Ellis scoffed, "Another reason not to—"

But before she could finish her sentence, Lily made her move. With a determined look, she straightened her shoulders and jumped into the darkness. The sound of her startled shout echoed up for a moment before fading into silence.

Ellis froze, horror etched on her face. "She's dead. She's definitely dead. Have we found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets? There's a reason it's a secret—"

"It's safe!" Lily's voice called back, faint but undeniably cheerful.

Ellis crossed her arms tightly. "I don't care. I'm not—"

James, apparently tired of her protests, didn't wait for her to finish. With a swift move, he grabbed her around the waist and unceremoniously shoved her down the hole. Ellis' indignant yell echoed through the tunnel as she disappeared.

An hour later, Ellis was still grumbling as the trio made their way through the winding tunnel. James and Lily paid her no mind, engrossed in an animated discussion about some intricate theory from their transfiguration class. Gryffindors engaged in romance so oddly, Ellis noticed. Ned was the same, loud, boisterous, and very fucking obvious about his crush. James was no better. He mentioned future dates as if it were a sure thing that Lily would be there. Lily pushed back, challenging him on it, but thus far hadn't said no.

Maybe it was because they were used to jabbing each other with knives in Slytherin, but confessing so outwardly, so publicly, felt like walking around naked and asking someone to twist the knife in your gut. She would rather suffer the Cruciatus Curse.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, its uneven floor occasionally catching the toe of Ellis' slippers. The flickering light from their wands cast eerie shadows on the walls, making the whole experience feel like something out of a nightmare. She muttered under her breath about reckless Gryffindors and their lack of self-preservation.

When they finally emerged into the cellar of Honeydukes, the sweet, sugary aroma was almost overwhelming after the earthy scent of the tunnel. Ellis glanced around, her irritation melting into reluctant awe at the rows of colorful sweets stacked neatly in jars. For a moment, she allowed herself a small smile, but only for a moment.

"You're lucky this place has sugar quills," she muttered, shooting James a dark look. "Otherwise, you'd be dead to me."

James just laughed, clapping her on the shoulder. "That's the Christmas spirit, Selwyn."

"It's not Christmas," pointed out Lily.

"Oh, you know that Grinch-guy? Doesn't Selwyn—"

"Can you shut up?"

They met Sirius Black at the Hog's Head Inn. The Hog's Head Inn tucked away in a shadowy corner of Hogsmeade. The inn's weathered sign creaked faintly in the wind, depicting a severed boar's head dripping with blood. The building itself was squat and dark, its stone walls streaked with years of grime and soot. Ivy crept up one side, partially obscuring the small, grimy windows that barely let in the faintest bit of light. A heavy wooden door with iron studs stood slightly ajar.

Ellis supposed that after being thrown out on the streets to a life of squalor and poverty, it was exactly the sort of place that Sirius Black belonged in. Neither was happy to see the other. The bubble of roses and unicorns emitting from James and Lily only served to worsen Ellis' mood.

Inside, the inn was dimly lit by a few sputtering oil lamps and a low-burning fire in a cracked stone hearth. The air was thick with the scent of stale ale, damp wood, and something faintly metallic, like old coins. The floor was scattered with sawdust that did little to disguise the occasional sticky patch or unidentified stain.

The bar itself was a heavy, battered slab of wood, pockmarked with gouges and darkened from decades of spilled drinks. Behind it, shelves sagged under the weight of dusty bottles filled with dubious-looking liquids. The innkeeper, a surly man with a perpetual scowl and a scraggly beard streaked with gray, leaned against the bar, polishing a glass with a rag that looked like it hadn't seen a wash in years. His piercing eyes were full of disapproval at the sight of them.

"You're gonna have to change," said Sirius, looking over their outfits with a surly expression. "I'm not going anywhere with you lot looking like posh twats."

"As opposed to an Azkaban escapee?" muttered Ellis, taking in his leather jacket, leather pants, and the loose tank-top with a picture of a muggle woman leaning over some sort of mechanical bicycle on the front.

"Sorry," said Sirius, grin sharp and cutting, "Did you want Reggie to come along? He'll be in there soon, so—"

James grabbed the bag that Sirius had brought with him and took a few items out of it and then offered it to Lily. "There's some stuff in there. We didn't really plan this part out," he said, sheepishly.

Ellis followed Lily silently down the dim hallway that led to the bathrooms. The air grew colder as they walked, and the faint, musty scent of mildew permeated the narrow corridor. Lily pushed open the creaky door to the women's bathroom, revealing a grimy sink with a cracked mirror above it, a single flickering bulb casting an unflattering yellow light across the room. The stalls looked like they hadn't been cleaned in years, and Ellis wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Charming," Ellis muttered, stepping inside and eyeing the surroundings with disdain. Ellis pulled out her wand, waving it at the floor. The grime retreated like water down a drain, leaving the tiles looking slightly less offensive. She glanced at Lily, who was rummaging through the bag.

Lily pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, holding them up for inspection. "Sirius bugged Dorcas for weeks about getting him some muggle clothes. Have you ever worn…"

"No."

But she took the remaining outfit and entered one of the stalls.

Ellis wrinkled her nose. Jeans. She'd seen muggles wearing them before and they never looked comfortable. Ellis was ashamed to say that when it came to fashion, she was very much a conservative and loathed anything but sweeping robes and cloaks. They added a flair of drama that she usually lacked in life.

She cast a few cleaning and shrinking charms, wondering if she'd gone mad in agreeing to go along with them. She was very clearly the odd one out, brought along because of James Potter's misguided pity.

She put the t-shirt on, feeling less like she was having fun and more like a fool. She should go back to the dungeons, slip beneath her covers, and sleep the weekend away. Going all the way to London? But she could always ditch them once they were there, and she was a bit intrigued by the whole thing.

Ellis slipped out of the stall, catching Lily's eye in the mirror as she redid her makeup. She seemed to have a thousand bottles in the small bag she'd been carrying with her. Even muggle makeup looked different from wizarding make-up. The tubes were made of something light and hard; the mascara was thick and sticky, but the lipstick, she could admit, was deeply pigmented.

Ellis caught her own reflection, finding it strange and unusual. The t-shirt was baggy and loose, stamped with a flaming bird that vaguely resembled a phoenix. The jeans felt a bit strange to walk in. Ellis transfigured her dress into a loose jacket, throwing it over her new clothes.

"Can you help take these out?" asked Lily, pulling at the pins.

Ellis waved her wand and then pins gently loosened from Lily's hair. A flick and her hair sat about her shoulders in tousled waves. Lily smiled warmly. "Did you already learn non-verbal spells? Karkaroff must be moving quick."

"Oh, no, it's just…magic."

"Just magic? Like accidental magic?"

"No."

Lily's brows furrowed and Ellis' did too. She couldn't explain it in words, but the innate intent one showed as a child remained beneath the surface. Spells and words and theory muddled it, but it was there, waiting to be used. Wands were just a tool to guide that magic. "It's like house elf magic. You snap your fingers and—" She demonstrated by doing just that and the pins began to arrange themselves in neat rows while the clothes she changed out of folded up and disappeared into the bag. "—things happen."

"There's so much still left to learn."

"Hogwarts does a good job at teaching you how to control magic, but they don't really teach youaboutmagic. My mother is an Unspeakable, so I get those lessons at home."

Lily looked at her and then gestured for her to come closer, holding a small pencil to her face. "Close your eyes."

Ellis hesitated, staring Lily like she was some kind of foreign artifact. "Why?"

Lily smiled patiently. "Just close your eyes. Trust me."

With a reluctant sigh, Ellis complied, closing her eyes and holding still as Lily leaned in. The pencil was cool against her skin as Lily carefully traced along her upper lash line. Ellis felt awkward, her hands twitching at her sides, unsure of what to do.

"Okay," Lily said, pulling back slightly. "Now, take your finger and smudge it a little. Like this." She demonstrated on herself, blending the line with a light, practiced touch.

Ellis opened one eye, peeking at Lily. "Doesn't that ruin it?"

"No, it makes it softer. Less precise," Lily explained. "Trust me, it'll look great."

With a skeptical frown, Ellis lifted a finger and gently rubbed along the edge of the line. The pencil smudged easily, leaving a smoky, uneven finish that surprised her. She leaned closer to the mirror, examining the effect. It was subtle, but it made her eyes stand out in a way she hadn't expected.

Ellis muttered. "It's... different."

"Good different?" Lily asked, stepping back and crossing her arms, a satisfied smile on her face.

Ellis hesitated, then gave a small nod.

"I'm not sure how James roped you into playing his wingman, but it's certainly a new tactic," said Lily, all matter-of-fact. A smile danced at the edge of her mouth, "Much as he's trying to behave himself, the marriage proposal is going to come out eventually."

"He really likes you."

"Does he? Or does he like the idea of me? No one ever tells him 'no' and I'm not sure if this…crush…he has is because I do."

"No," said Ellis, shaking her head. "I don't think it's any of that."

"I hope not. I know a few nasty curses too."

Ellis had never known why Lily Evans was popular or why Snape was obsessed with her, but she understood it a little better now. Like James Potter, there was an earnest air to her, as if the idea of lying never crossed her mind. Though Lily had every reason to hate Ellis on principle, she was kind. A meaningless, gentle kindness that one offered strangers expecting nothing back. Kind for the sake of kindness.

James Potter was the same and maybe she understood Sirius Black a little better because of it, because it must've been like seeing the sun for the first time when he met James Potter, but she thought she might have hated him a bit more too because of it. It was easy to chase the sun, wasn't it? It was much more difficult to stay put and bear the burden he was born into, so he had passed it along. Bought his freedom at the price of his brother.

They ran into another problem as they left the Hog's Head Inn and headed to the edge of the village, where the apparition wards no longer had any power.

"She's only sixteen," said Sirius, crunching the wrapper of an acid pop in his hand. Ellis was troubled that he knew her age. Who had told him? Why did he remember?

"I didn't think that far ahead."

"No shit, Prongs. You didn't think at all."

"When's your birthday? It's not tonight, is it?"

Again, Sirius responded, "July 7th."

Ellis' couldn't contain her horror and asked, "Why do you know that?"

"Regulus."

"Oh, yeah, he—" James looked at her, stopped speaking, and then smiled brightly. "Well, not a problem. We'll do a side-along. Not me, though. Splinched myself during lessons, so let's not risk it."

"I don't know, Prongs, she might look better without a head. What'd you think, Selwyn? Fancy loosing—"

"You're coming with me," said Lily, shaking her head.

"Oh, but Lily, I was going to—"

"Splinch me?" she asked, sharply. Lily took Ellis' hand forcibly, holding it tight, reminding Ellis of all the times she's done the same to Ned when driven to annoyance. She had a sister, Ellis recalled. A muggle one. "Where are we going?"

"Aldwych Theatre, Covent Gardens."

With a twist and sharp, ear-splitting crack, they were gone. Her body twisted and compressed in every direction, lungs turning to iron, and the sound around her felt as if it were being pushed directly into her brain with hammer and then—

A bus whizzed past, the wind of its passing brushing against the tip of her nose. The blaring horns of impatient drivers and the blinding headlights of cars left her disoriented. Ellis stumbled backward, her breath hitching as panic surged through her. Her arms flailed instinctively, searching for something—anything—to steady herself. She barely registered the warm hands that caught her until she felt herself pulled to safety.

They were in London. Muggle London. The relentless noise made her flinch. The towering double-decker buses, the speeding cars, and the sheer volume of it all was overwhelming. She glanced at Lily, who stood there calmly, as though the chaos of Muggle life were entirely unremarkable. She supposed for her, it was.

There was a fine mist hanging in the air, not rain. Not yet, at least. Ellis looked up at the sky, frowning at the heavy cover of cloud that blocked out the moon. Ellis recalled what her father had said about the dementors and the Minister. There must've been a few close by, because her breath escaped in a cold, puff of air.

"Sorry," said Lily, rubbing her arms lightly. "Misjudged that. I'm still getting used to being able to do that."

Ellis didn't like apparating. It made her stomach and chest ache. She breathed in deeply, trying to settle her spinning head. "It's fine. Portkeys are worse."

"Haven't used one yet, but Marlene's says they're hell too."

James and Sirius appeared and nearly rammed into a group of muggles, crawling about the pubs. They were pissed and didn't even blink at the fact that they had appeared out of thin air, but it seemed a great affront when Sirius accidentally rammed his shoulder into one of the other boys. James settled everything down quickly, even sharing a laugh, before rushing down to the street to meet her and Lily.

James was missing a bit of his eyebrow. Lily noticed it and threw Ellis a look that only another girl could understand, "Why do I like this idiot?"

Ellis couldn't help, but smile.