Last Time (Because I Have Not Updated in Forever):

Marlene and Rosier agreed to investigate the murder of 3rd year Ravenclaw Christine Loughty on Hogwarts grounds. Currently, they know she was under the Imperius Curse, and according to Loughty's friend Amrita Sanghera, the curse was cast on Loughty the Friday before her death.

After receiving news that an attack on the auror office put some of the McKinnon family in danger, Marlene almost hooked up with Rosier in the broom cupboard. Marlene then ran away rather than confront the issue and stayed with the McKinnon family for two weeks during the holidays.


PART ONE: IN VITAM


Chapter XX: Nine of Cups Reversed

"The path you've walked until now has been filled with turmoil. Now, you have arrived at a time in your life where you appear satisfied. But deep down you know something is missing. What is it you still desire? Are you missing love, or are you missing confidence in yourself?"–Romance, Relationships, and the Tarot Deck by Amoria Boncoeur

Somehow, by some miracle, I survived the holidays without the McKinnon family suspecting that I wasn't their daughter.

Marlene's odd behavior prior to the switch was what saved me. One morning, over tea, June commented on how much better I was doing since the summer holidays. I smiled and said that spending time with my friends had helped.

As a result, the week following the new year was surprisingly relaxing. Collin and Owen managed to get a few days free from work, and we spent the afternoons hiking through the snowy highlands with Hamish floating beside us in a baby carrier. June snapped photographs of everyone, unable to hide the slight tears in the corners of her eyes after she took a picture of the whole family together.

Later in the week, Hartley and I visited Diagon Alley. As I stood amongst the enchanted shops, my inner Harry Potter fan felt overwhelmed. The books had helped me through countless nights of my parents' fights; while they'd screamed and shouted, I'd followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione on their adventures. And now, I walked through the cobblestone streets, visited the bookstores and cauldron shops, and had ice cream at Florean Fortesque's Parlor.

When the holidays came to an end, I felt regret twist in my chest.

On January 8th, June escorted Hartley and me back to Platform 9 through the Floo Network. The platform was crowded with teary-eyed parents, bustling students, heavy trunks, hooting owls, constant chatter, and shouts of farewell. One benefit of Hartley's and my heights was that people parted around us, and we managed to have some semblance of space and calm as we said goodbye to June.

"Now, remember," said June, as she pulled Hartley close for a hug. "Listen to your teachers. Work hard. Don't forget to take time for yourselves." She patted the top of Hartley's head, standing on tiptoe to reach. "Have fun with your friends. Write to us." She let go of Hartley and turned to me. A soft smile crossed her face, which I couldn't help but return as I stepped into her embrace. "Please let me know when you're having a hard time or starting to feel discouraged. Your da and I are always here for you. No matter what." Her arms slid from my shoulders, and June stepped back so she could get a proper look at my face. "Have a good semester. I love you both."

"Love you too," said Hartley. He glanced over his shoulder as if worried one of his friends might have overheard.

"I love you too." My voice was barely audible.

I took one last look down at the warm, kind face of June McKinnon, and then I followed Hartley to the Hogwarts Express.

Once we'd wrestled our way onboard, we dragged our trunks through the narrow outer corridor. I'd never missed having a cellphone as much as I did in that moment. Instead of texting our friends to ask where they were, Hartley and I had to check each and every compartment we passed.

A few members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team waved to us as we made our way down the corridor. Davey Gudgeon seemed almost embarrassed to see me, while Jon Dawlish and I exchanged polite greetings. A little further down, Persephone Rowle paused in the middle of a heated conversation with Ludo Bagman to ask about my holidays. A couple of fourth-year Gryffindor girls said hello to Hartley. Hartley and I also passed a compartment of seventh year Slytherins, but I didn't spot Rosier among them. Probably for the best. I wasn't ready to deal with the consequences of our last meeting just yet.

We were in the fourth or fifth car, still unable to find either Hartley's friends or mine, when Hartley accidentally bumped his elbow into the arm of a dark-haired girl.

"I'm sorry," said Hartley with a quick glance in her direction.

"It's all right."

The girl stood in the doorway of an empty carriage, facing another female student. They must have been around thirteen or fourteen. The first girl was on the taller side with long, black hair and a circular face, while her friend had a short, blonde bob cut and bright features. I didn't recognize them at first, because they were both still in muggle clothing rather than their usual Ravenclaw robes.

The small, blonde girl's gaze drifted from her friend and followed Hartley as he walked by them in the narrow corridor. Her hands clasped together in front of her lilac blouse, and she suddenly didn't seem to know what to do with herself.

"Have you seen Amrita?" asked the dark-haired girl. The name triggered my memory.

The blonde girl barely registered her friend's question as she still watched the back of Hartley's head.

What luck.

I'd never interacted with Theresia Zhao or Jane Oakwood before, but I knew them by sight. They, along with Amrita Sanghera, had been Christine Loughty's closest friends. Rosier and I had both kept our distance from Zhao and Oakwood in our investigations, because we had no good excuses to talk to them without looking suspicious. But perhaps that had changed.

"Hello," I said.

Both girls jumped slightly at the sound of my voice. They looked up at me with wide, nervous eyes.

Hartley stopped in his tracks and stared back at me with confusion written plainly across his face.

"I'm sorry," I said, even as my mind raced, struggling to come up with a good way to approach the two girls. "I know this is a little abrupt, but I wanted to express my sympathies. About Loughty. I know she was your friend."

Oakwood moved her mouth soundlessly, her gaze darting between Hartley and me. It was Zhao who managed to respond with a trembling, "Thank you."

"You gave a lovely speech at her memorial." I tried to look like a fond older sister as I said, "My brother and I were very moved."

Hartley stared at me as if I'd grown an extra head, while Oakwood's ears turned pink. Zhao glanced at her friend with a slightly puzzled frown. It seemed Zhao didn't know who her friend fancied. Unfortunately for Oakwood, I knew. And I was going to take full advantage of that knowledge.

It made sense when I thought about it. Hartley was only a year older than them, and he'd just performed well in his first Quidditch match. When I'd been in secondary school, the boys who played football were always popular.

"Hartley and I hope you both had a good holiday," I said. I sent a meaningful glance in Hartley's direction, hoping he wouldn't ruin my plans with a thoughtless comment. "Merlin knows you both needed a break."

Like the dutiful brother he was, Hartley added, "It's good to spend time with family."

"Y-yes." Oakwood managed to stammer the word out.

"Did you do anything fun?" I asked.

With both Hartley's and my attention on her, Oakwood couldn't bring herself to look anywhere but the floor as she said, "We went to Ireland to visit my relatives."

"Oh, that's lovely!" I tried to look like a meddling older sister as I turned to Hartley and asked, pointedly, "What did we do over the holidays?"

Hartley glanced from me to Oakwood, and then something akin to annoyance and amusement flashed through his hazel eyes. Unable to be rude, he turned to Oakwood and said, "We stayed in Aberdeenshire. We met our nephew for the first time."

Oakwood's eyes lit up at that. "Oh, yes! My cousin just gave birth to her first child. A cute little girl."

Hartley smiled. "How old is she?"

"She's five months old." Oakwood no longer trembled but smiled brightly up at my brother. It seemed she had a rather lively personality when she wasn't panicking over the boy she fancied. "I got so nervous every time I held her."

Understanding colored Zhao's eyes. She glanced from her friend to Hartley and then gave a slight, knowing smile.

Some second-year student tried to push past me in the hallway. I stepped backwards against the outer wall of the compartment, allowing the student to pass. I now stood next to Zhao. When she looked up at me, I gave her a sheepish smile.

"So, um, did you other friend—Sanghera—go home for the holidays as well?" I asked. I tried to pass it off as a casual question.

"Yes," said Zhao. "I haven't seen her yet though."

"I hope she had a good rest." I let concern fill my tone. "I heard she had a rough time of it at the end of the semester when, you know, she realized…about when the Imperius Curse was cast."

It was shameless of me. Anyone with half a sense of decency would have avoided the topic with Loughty' friends. Especially Sanghera's meltdown. However, I wanted answers, and sometimes, shamelessness was needed.

"Um." Zhao's gaze dropped to the floor. "Uh, yes."

My eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"

Zhao's head jerked up, and she tried to smile at me. "Yes, um." She sent a frantic glance in her friend's direction, but Oakwood was still talking excitedly with Hartley.

Hartley sent a questioning look in my direction, probably wanting to leave, but I ignored him. Instead, I asked, "Is something wrong with Sanghera?"

Zhao shook her head automatically. She still wouldn't look at me.

"Did something else happen? I tried again. "When Loughty was in the sixth-floor corridor?"

Oakwood overheard my question. She broke off her conversation with Hartley to say, "No. Nothing happened."

"What?" asked Hartley.

Oakwood glanced up at him. Even as her ears turned pink with embarrassment, she was surprisingly calm as she said, "We don't know why she said that."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Said what?" asked Hartley.

"Nothing," said Zhao.

"That Christine had been acting odd after lunch Friday," said Oakwood. "I don't know why Amrita said that."

"Amrita may have noticed something we didn't," said Zhao quickly.

"That's what I thought at first." The words tumbled out of Oakwood as if she'd been holding onto them for a long time. "I thought it was odd when I first heard she'd said that. Theresia and I both thought it was odd. Why would Amrita say that? Christine never acted out of sorts on Friday. She did well in classes, we had dinner, we played gobstones in the common room, and then we all went to bed early because of the match. She was never 'spaced out' like Amrita said. It wasn't until the morning of the Quidditch match that anything odd happened. That morning, Christine told us she wasn't feeling well and that she was going to sleep in the dorm instead of going to breakfast. But even then, she wasn't acting 'spaced out' or anything like that."

"Maybe we missed something," said Zhao.

"You don't think she was under the Imperius Curse on Saturday morning?" I asked, ignoring Zhao.

"I don't know," said Oakwood. "She wasn't odd on Friday, though. You think so too, Theresia. You agreed with me when we heard what Amrita had said."

Zhao shook her head.

"Did you say anything to the professors?" I asked. "About how you disagreed with Sanghera?"

"No," said Oakwood. "We talked about it—"

"Amrita may have seen something we didn't," said Zhao again.

"But Christine wasn't odd," Oakwood insisted. "If anything, Amrita was the one who was odd…" She trailed off.

Oakwood's blue eyes became very wide. Zhao had opened her mouth to protest again, but now she froze and slowly began to turn pale.

My heart hammered in my chest. What? What was this?

A sixth year Slytherin shoved his way past me, and I almost lost my footing. Hartley reached out a hand to catch me. His gaze asked a silent question, but I ignored him and instead stepped past the two Ravenclaw girls into the empty compartment. The girls exchanged glances, but one hard look from me was enough to cause them and Hartley to follow me.

Once the compartment door was closed, I asked, "Did you tell the professors Sanghera was acting odd?"

"I don't know," said Zhao. "There were so many questions. Everyone wanted to know every detail about that week. I don't remember what I said."

"No, we didn't tell anyone," said Oakwood firmly. "We talked about it with each other when we heard…what Amrita had said. But Theresia…we thought that we'd just missed something." She glanced at her friend. "But over the holidays, I replayed those last two days…Christine's last…over and over again in my head. I don't think we missed anything."

"No." Zhao shook her head in stubborn denial. I doubt she knew what she was saying "no" to anymore.

"Do you know when Sanghera started acting odd?" I asked.

"No," said Zhao again.

"I think…" Oakwood frowned. "When did it start?"

"We were all distracted…" But even Zhao didn't seem convinced by her words. She hesitated and then said, "No, Thursday morning. She almost walked past us at breakfast."

"That's right," said Oakwood. "I remember. I thought she was just tired."

"But she was fine when she went to bed Wednesday night?" I asked.

Hartley sent a curious glance in my direction.

"She went straight to bed on Wednesday night," said Oakwood. "Right after Dueling Club."

The world tilted out of place for a second. My hand flew to the top of my trunk to steady myself. A shrill noise filled my ears, and it took me a second to realize it was the whistle of the train as it prepared to depart.

"Does she usually go straight to bed after Dueling Club?" I asked when I found my voice again.

"Occasionally," said Oakwood. "That's why we thought nothing of it."

"And she wasn't acting odd any time before that?"

Oakwood and Zhao exchanged glances before shaking their heads.

As the Hogwarts Express left the station and started the long journey to Hogwarts, I asked the two girls every question I could think of.

From what Oakwood and Zhao could recall, Sanghera had returned to the Ravenclaw dorm from Dueling Club and had gone to bed without speaking to anyone. It wasn't that she was oblivious to everything. She made jokes and acted like normal, but every so often, she would appear distracted, her eyes focused on something in the distance. The signs were small, but they matched up with what I'd read of the Imperius Curse.

"You have to tell Dumbledore all this," said Hartley when my questioning finally came to an end.

This problem had already crossed my mind: there was no way Oakwood and Zhao could explain all this to Dumbledore without mentioning Hartley and me. Additionally, this new information would shake up the professors' investigation and potentially put the focus on Dueling Club and Rosier. However, the real Marlene would do the responsible thing here, and if I advised otherwise, it would make Hartley suspicious of me.

"Tonight," I said to the two girls. "As soon as we get to Hogwarts, speak to your head of house about talking to Professor Dumbledore. If—"

Three hard knocks came on the compartment door, and we all twisted around to see the grinning face of James Potter. When he caught my eye, he waved. Beside him stood a puzzled Lily. She looked from me to Zhao to Oakwood and then back to me, her brows narrowed in confusion.

James opened the compartment door and poked his head in. "We were worried you missed the train, Marle. What's, uh, what's going on in here?" He noticed Oakwood's watery eyes and added, "Are you all right?"

Oakwood quickly wiped the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. Then, she glanced at me.

I surveyed the two girls for a long moment, and then said, "You can tell our Head Boy and Girl."

"Tell us what?" asked Lily. She used a firm tone, one that she brought out whenever she had to slip into her Head Girl role.

James and Lily stepped inside the compartment, which was already crowded with our luggage. Hartley and I helped the two girls get their trunks into the racks above the seats. Once Oakwood and Zhao got settled, they began explaining everything again to Lily and James.

I felt bad for the girls, knowing how long they'd been questioned last semester after Loughty's death and knowing that they were about to go through the same process again. How painful it must be to relive the days before their friend's death, to see all the moments where they missed something, times when, if they'd noticed, maybe Loughty would still be alive.

"It's not your fault," said Lily gently once they'd finished. "Thank you for having the courage to come forward with this."

Zhao's lower lip trembled, while Oakwood's eyes were bright red. They both looked small and frail.

Then, the compartment door slid open, and we all turned to see the dark hair, oval face, and broad shoulders of Amrita Sanghera. She stood in the hallway with a brown trunk and a cage containing a small owl at her side. Her dark eyes looked at each of us in turn before she asked, in a Cockney accent, "What's going on here?"

"Where have you been?" asked Zhao, her voice slightly high-pitched. "Why are you late?"

I could hear the desperation in Zhao's voice. She wanted her suspicions to be false. She desperately wanted her friend to do something—anything—to remove all doubts.

"I was talking with the boys," said Amrita. "Gethin wanted to know if I was coming to Dueling Club this week."

We all winced at the mention of Dueling Club.

"Sanghera," said James, "Let me help you with your luggage."

"Why don't you sit down," said Lily, gestured to the red-cushioned seat beside her.

As James put her trunk up in the luggage rack, Sanghera tentatively lowered herself into the seat. Her gaze kept flitting around the compartment. She certainly didn't look like she was under the Imperius Curse.

"I should go find my friends," said Hartley. "Before they come looking for me."

I nodded. I hadn't interacted much with Hartley's friends, but from what I'd seen in the Hufflepuff common room, the fourth-year boys seemed like an excitable group that couldn't keep their traps shut about anything.

"Mary and Dorcus have a compartment in car six," said Lily. She looked at me pointedly.

It was Head Boy and Girl business now.

But I desperately wanted to hear what Amrita Sanghera had to say.

"I can stay if you want," I said to Oakwood and Zhao. The softness in my voice surprised even me.

"It's all right," said Oakwood. "You should go see your friends."

"Thank you," added Zhao.

If everyone present wanted me to go, I couldn't force the issue. Hartley and I took our trunks and headed out into the corridor. James closed the compartment door behind me with an apologetic smile.

"Those poor girls," said Hartley as we dragged our trunks through the train car.

"Yeah," I mumbled.

We couldn't say any more on the topic while in a public space.

"What were you trying to do?" asked Hartley.

I glanced up to see him staring over his shoulder at me with narrowed eyes.

My throat felt tight. Had I messed up? Had all that discussion on the Imperius Curse caused him to suspect I wasn't the real Marlene?

"With Jane Oakwood," clarified Hartley, "Trying to get me to talk to her."

I blinked. I'd completely forgotten about my initial approach as the meddling, matchmaking big sister. Then, I gave Hartley a sheepish smile. "She fancies you. You don't think she's cute? I was helping you out."

Hartley scowled. "Please don't. She has enough on her plate, and I do not need your help."

"You're right," I said, lowing my head as if I was ashamed of my actions. "I regret it now. She's been through a rough time. I just got excited when I realized my little brother was popular."

"Popular?"

"Don't think I missed those Gryffindor girls giggling when we passed by them earlier," I said. "My little brother is becoming quite the player."

"What?" Hartley's face had turned bright red.

"Listen, being popular is fine, but if you date two girls at once, I will hex you into next week."

I was surprised to find that I was genuinely happy to hang out with my friends again. When I'd been with the McKinnons, my focus had been entirely on the family. Occasionally, I would think that Dorcas would find something funny, that James would have some quip, or that Lily would have known the right thing to say, but I wouldn't have said I missed their company during the holidays. However, when we all gathered at the Gryffindor table after the new semester announcements, a warm feeling crept into my chest.

Dorcas recounted her numerous fights with her little brother, who had been moody because he missed his girlfriend. Peter eagerly talked about his Christmas presents, but he grew a little rigid when mentioning his parents being busy with work. Sirius and Remus had enjoyed their holidays at Hogwarts, and they spent most of the time bothering Peeves and visiting Hogsmeade. Of course, they wouldn't say how they visited Hogsmeade despite trips being banned this year.

Mary gushed over her visit with her boyfriend in Sandbach before complaining about the endless list of letters she'd sent out for apprenticeships. When she'd asked me about my letters, I'd quickly changed the topic to my little nephew.

At breakfast the next morning, James and Lily appeared looking tired and stressed but happy to see us. As they took their seats as the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to sausage and eggs, they filled us in on what details they could. Unfortunately, they didn't say anything I didn't already know.

"The girls spent the evening with Dumbledore?" asked Remus.

"And the night in the Hospital Wing," said Lily. "Poor girls."

"They must be exhausted," said Dorcas. She stared down at the cup of tea clutched in her hands, a shadow hanging behind her gaze.

"This changes the whole hunt for the culprit," said Sirius.

James nodded. "The time frame is completely different now."

"You think she was cursed at Dueling Club?" asked Peter.

"Likely she was cursed on her way back from Dueling Club," I said.

Sirius tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. "There's so many Slytherins in Dueling Club. Rosier, Bulstrode, Crawley, Tanaka, Wilkes, Burke, Madler…"

"You think one of them could have done it?" asked Mary.

"I doubt the culprit would be that obvious," I said.

"I wouldn't put it past them," muttered Sirius. "Dumbledore should just shut down the whole Dueling Club for all the Slytherins it has."

"There's plenty of non-Slytherins in Dueling Club," said Remus. "Sanghera, for one."

"And look what happened to her," said Sirius with a sneer.

"They're going to be starting the Dueling Competition soon," said Peter. "They won't be happy if Dumbledore shuts down the club before then."

Remus shoved his half-eaten breakfast around his place with a fork. "Great. Rosier can win again."

"Pompous twat," said James. He threw a glare in the direction of the Slytherin table.

"He only wins because his competition is other Dueling Club members," said Sirius. "I could beat that git with my wand-arm tied behind my back."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You know, the Dueling Competition isn't limited club members. You could join and break Rosier's winning streak."

"I'll be busy with Quidditch," said James quickly. "And Head Boy duties. Rosier's lucky I'm so busy."

"Excellent point," said Remus. "Prefect duties are very demanding."

"Alas, my girlfriend takes up all of my time," added Sirius with a dramatic sigh. "I think Peter can take him though."

All eyes turned to Peter.

"Me?" Peter let out a high-pitched squeak. And then, with the upmost solemnity, he said, "No, I'd die."

The rest of us burst into laughter.

I grinned even as my gaze slid over to the Slytherin table where I spotted Rosier, with a bored expression on his face, flipping through the pages of the Daily Prophet. I'd never seen him duel, though obviously I'd heard about his dueling skills. How good was Rosier really? Surely, he wasn't better than James or Sirius; they were such important characters in the Harry Potter books, and Rosier was barely a footnote.

Rosier's dark eyes scanned the pages of the newspaper. A slight crease formed between his brows. Then, the memory flashed before me. My hands messing up that perfect hair. Burning fingertips, skin against skin, pulling, pushing, wanting. Heat filling the closed space of the broom cupboard. Kissing, biting, st—

I tore my eyes away.

Red-hot anger flooded my chest. I didn't know if I was mad at myself or Rosier.

"Marlene?" asked Lily. Her green eyes watched me from across the table. "Are you all right?"

I tried to smile. "Yeah. But we should get going or we'll be late for Potions."


I refused to look at Rosier for the rest of Monday. Which was easier said than done because he was in most of my classes…and I actually needed to update him on the Christine Loughty matter.

Of course, I could only prolong the inevitable for so long. Tuesday afternoon, I ruefully made my way up the ladder to join Rosier at our circular table in the Divination classroom.

"Hello, Marlene," said Rosier. I hated his smug tone. He knew exactly why I'd been ignoring him. "How was your family?"

"Good," I said. "My little nephew is the cutest."

A faint smile crossed Rosier's face. "That's good."

As I settled into my seat, I asked, "How were you holidays?"

His smile faded slightly. He leaned back in his seat, subtly throwing a glance in the direction of our classmates. I saw a slight movement of his hand as he cast the muffling spell. Then, Rosier said, "I learned something interesting."

"Me too."

"The usual place then?" asked Rosier. "Usual time."

"No." The word came out harsher than I intended. Still, I couldn't let Rosier trap me in that broom cupboard again. I knew how it would end. "We can talk here."

Rosier's eyes narrowed slightly. "We won't do anything you don't want."

"No," I said again.

Rosier looked ready to say more, but at that moment, Professor Vablatsky entered the classroom with a flourish of her magenta robes. Our conversation came to an end as she began the lecture on the techniques used by various seers to access the secrets of scrying crystals.

Despite taking diligent notes, I couldn't repeat a single word from Vablatsky's lecture. I was too aware of the boy sitting opposite me. Too aware of his broad shoulders. Too aware of his dark, heavy-set eyes. Too aware of those hands— I bit the inside of my cheeks to distract myself. Finally, after what felt like an age, Vablatsky ended the lecture and allowed us to begin peering into the crystal balls placed on our tables.

I squinted into the depths of the misty glass, unable to make out any shapes other than my own reflection.

"I think it's going to be cloudy tonight," I muttered.

A faint smile crept across Rosier's face as he re-cast the muffliato charm.

As soon as I felt the family buzzing around me, I asked, "Can someone under the Imperius Curse then cast the Imperius Curse on another person?"

Rosier's head jerked slightly, the smile disappearing from his face. Then, his eyes narrowed as he considered my words and the meaning behind them. "You think the culprit used someone else to curse Loughty?"

"I had a lovely chat with Oakwood and Zhao on the Hogwarts Express," I said, before filling him on everything I'd learned.

Rosier's gaze grew hard with each new piece of information, and his mouth stretched into a thin line. "It's possible for someone under the Imperius Curse to cast the same spell on someone else. But it's very difficult. You're dealing not just with the initial caster's magical capabilities, but also the person under the Imperius Curse's capabilities."

"Would the person under the Imperius Curse have to already know the spell?" I highly doubted a third year Ravenclaw like Amrita Sanghera was an expert in Unforgivable Curses.

"Not exactly." Rosier frowned. "The Unforgivable Curses aren't like other spells."

"It's like a chain," I said. "One person casting the Imperius Curse on the next. How many people could it last?"

"I'm not sure," admitted Rosier. "It likely depends on the capabilities of the original caster as well as the abilities of the people whom the Imperius Curse is cast on. However, the original caster likely has to be very skilled in their own right. Even just Sanghera and Loughty is a difficult task. With someone like Dumbledore, for instance, who knows how many people he could place under the Imperius Curse."

I drummed my fingertips on the surface of the table, staring into the depths of the crystal ball. I wished the damned glass could tell me the identity of Loughty's killer. It'd make my life a whole lot easier. "How many people at this school are capable of that kind of magic?"

"Not many," said Rosier. "Dumbledore, the professors…"

"You?"

Rosier glanced at me. Amusement flickered in his gaze even as his expression remained solemn. "Perhaps. With a lot of preparation. I'd imagine Potter, Evans, Black, Vance, Rowle, and Severus all could. Maybe Cresswell if she ever bothered to try."

I ran through the list in my head. I could rule out most of those names with ease. Of course, I suspected none of those names belong to the culprit. The answer felt more obvious than that.

"Is our culprit a professor?" I asked.

Rosier nodded his head once in agreement. "More than likely. But before we discuss that further, I should give you my update—something interesting finally happened at one of my father's pretentious dinner parties."

"Someone didn't want to murder all muggles and muggleborns?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. As I promised, I did some investigating at the dinner parties. I threw out the topic of Loughty's death as well as some of the theories floating around Hogwarts to my father's acquaintances."

"Someone actually took the bait?" I was so surprised that I forgot about my rule and accidentally made eye-contact with Rosier. "Who?"

Rosier avoided my second question. He knew what I wanted, but of course he wouldn't give me the information. "They stayed quiet in front of me when I brought up Loughty and Dumbledore's search for the murderer, but they avoided looking at each other and had the telltale signs of guilt on their faces during our conversation. Then, all it took was a well-placed cloaking spell once I was out of their sight, and then I circled around to a spot behind them."

"What'd they say?" I asked.

"They were upset, talking about how Dumbledore is investigating everyone at Hogwarts and how Voldemort is unhappy. Apparently, 'he' went against 'his' assignment, and Voldemort did not want 'him' drawing attention to 'himself.'"

The pieces slid into place, and a little too loudly, I said, "'He'?"

Vablatsky's sharp gaze turned in our direction. Rosier quickly dropped the muffliato spell as she approached our table with a swish of her maroon robes. I could see Stebbins and Johnson leaning in their seats to watch as Vablatsky asked, "Do you see something of interest, Miss McKinnon?"

"Ah, yes." I squinted at the crystal ball. "I thought I saw a dark, mysterious stranger in the mist. But then he, uh, disappeared."

Vablatsky stared at me for a long moment, and then she turned to look at Rosier.

"Unfortunately," said Rosier, "I haven't seen any dark, mysterious strangers in the crystal."

"Gazing into the crystal ball," said Vablatsky, her deep voice filling the classroom, "is a form of scrying. Much like our previous ventures into scrying, seeing into the depths of the crystal ball requires calm and concentration. A distract mind does not lead to visions."

I nodded along with Vablatsky's words even as my heart thundered in my chest. 'He.' Rosier's acquaintances had used the word 'he.' Which meant our rat was a male.

"You may be excused for the day," said Vablatsky. "Remember to read the chapter on different types of crystals before next class."

I shoved my textbook into my bag, watching out of the corner of my eye as Rosier did the same on the other side of the table. Even with his quick movements, he remained outwardly calm. I got to my feet and darted towards the door. Rosier followed; he remained a few paces behind, so that it wouldn't appear that we were leaving together.

As soon as we reached the bottom of the ladder, I took a sharp turn and started down the corridor. Pure habit guided my path. I was halfway to that forsaken broom cupboard before I realized what I was doing.

I stopped mid-step and turned to look behind me. The corridor was empty except for the all too familiar Slytherin walking several strides behind me.

Rosier's head tilted slightly to the left and amusement flickered in his eyes as he asked, "Going somewhere?"

"Come here, you knobdobber." I grabbed him by the sleeve of his robes and dragged him into an alcove to my right. Once we were safely out of sight, I quickly released his sleeve. "You're telling me our spy is male?"

Rosier glanced down at my hand. For a moment, I thought he was going to comment on my obvious avoidance, but instead, he pulled out his wand and proceeded to place the usual protective spells around us. Rosier was nothing if not careful.

Finally, Rosier turned to survey me as he said, "Yes."

"But if casting multiple Imperius Curses is advanced magic, then we're left with only a few options. Especially if we limit it to just professors to begin with…"

"Chen, Kettleburn, Shafiq, Slughorn, Woodbridge." Rosier listed off the male professors. "I am excluded Binns, but if you think we should investigate the ghost…"

Considering Slughorn and Kettleburn were still teachers in the Harry Potter books, that only left Chen, Shafiq, and Woodbridge as possible culprits. Their faces swam before my eyes. I'd sat in their classes, I'd eaten dinner in the Great Hall with them, I'd watched them laugh with their students, I'd seen them shed tears at Loughty's memorial… How could he? Whoever it was… How could he murder a thirteen-year-old girl? Not on a whim or out of impulse, but a detailed, pre-meditated plan that involved her friend placing her under the Imperius Curse and having her strangle herself to death. What kind of sick bastard could do such a thing and then smile in these very halls?

"Marlene?"

"All because she's muggleborn?" My voice sounded as if from far away. "That's it?"

Gently, Rosier extended a hand. His warm fingers brushed against mine, a comforting touch, familiar.

I wrenched my hand away, out of his reach.

We stood there, in that tiny alcove, as silence descended upon us.

How much time had we spent together in small spaces? I knew his face so well now. His proud features, his strong jaw, his straight nose, his heavy-lidded eyes. I could pick him out of a crowded room with ease. And yet, I felt as though I didn't know anything about him. But I knew what the books said. I knew that one day he would join them. He would join the people who could do something like this.

"Why did you go along with it?" I asked.

Rosier blinked. "With what?"

"In the broom cupboard. Before we left for the holidays. Why did you go along with it?"

"Is it that hard to believe I fancy you?" asked Rosier.

I didn't even hesitate. "Yes."

Something flashed in his eyes, but as always, his expression was unreadable.

I almost laughed aloud. I shouldn't have expected anything different.

"I'll be late to Charms." I stepped out of the alcove and started down the empty corridor, back the way we came.

His voice came from behind me, but it lacked its usual arrogance and sounded as if from far away. "The usual time and place?"

"Of course."


Author's Note: Apologies for not updating in forever. It turns out when you write all day for your job, it makes writing when you get much less appealing. That being said, I love this story and I want to finish it.

Please leave a review!