"I guess this is why I hate governments, all governments.

It is always the rule, the fine print, carried out by fine-print men.

There's nothing to fight, no wall to hammer with frustrated fists."

John Steinbeck

After all that, Lily woke up on a Wednesday morning. It was not some grand awakening with a church choir hailing it. It was easy— as if she had been sleeping in the entire time. Sure, her muscles felt unmoved, stiff, as if she hadn't touched her toes in years, but it was lackluster compared to all the events that preceded it. There was no crowd hived around her. No Prime Minister or government official waited with a bouquet of flowers. There were no flowers at all, actually. She just woke up, that's it.

"Lily," Remus breathed out, the only one to witness it. Sirius was still sleeping, and James was at Potions with Mary and Marlene. Dorcas and Peter were in Care of Magical Creatures. So, it was just him that morning.

The first thing she did was run a hand through her hair, ignorant that she had been bald only a week ago. Pomfrey had made sure that it had grown back to at least her shoulders before letting anyone see her. Her eyelashes had returned, too. There were some faint red marks left behind from the scarring around her forehead line, but, and as the healer had come to learn, the fire had been magically induced with the simplest of pyro-charms. It was a blessing and a point of confusion— why had someone attacked Lily with such weak magic?

"Welcome back," Remus greeted, grinning. He refrained from throwing his arms around her, instead smiling while watching a weak smile flicker across her lips. Lily's eyes closed again, but her chest rose and fell evenly and steadily.

"Remus," Lily rasped as her eyes fluttered open. A week and a half of not hearing her voice; a week and a half of wondering whether he ever would again. It was scratched and dry from days of not speaking, but it was still nothing short of a miracle, at least, for him.

"Should I call for Pomfrey?" Remus asked, but Lily was unable to answer him just yet. He stood up to retrieve the healer's attention with a quick hand wave. She was by their side within minutes, rushing with a tray holding a single potion.

"Yes, she was ready," Pomfrey assured him, not the least bit surprised as she stepped to Lily's bedside. "Do not overwhelm her, please. Dumbledore'll want to speak with her as soon as possible. She'll need her strength for that." She uncapped the potion on the tray and brought it to Lily's lips. Lily gulped it down without thinking to ask what it was she was ingesting. "I'll make her a cup of tea— would you like a cup, as well?" Remus nodded, taking his seat once again. "Very well, talk lightly, okay?"

Remus knew what that meant— don't ask what happened; don't tell her anything at all. He nodded once, despite the ache for answers, and obliged. Pomfrey left as soon as she had collected the rest of the scattered bottles from the table, leaving behind only one. Lily's head turned on the pillow. Despite having been asleep for a week and a half, she still looked positively fatigued.

"Remus, what's happened?" The question made his stomach curl, but he assumed Lily was still in a daze from waking up after such a long sleep. He smiled tightly at her, keeping what little he knew to himself. Pomfrey returned with the tea and a collection of biscuits— smiling and humming the entire time.

"Should I send for Albus and Minerva, dear?" Pomfrey inquired as she set the platter down on the table, lifting the mug to Lily who passed it to Remus. He took it without question but eyed her cautiously. There was an emptiness to everything she did, a sort of robotic movement. She was awake, indeed, but still dreaming. "This one's been here every day, and the two Ravenclaw witches, Meadowes, Potter, as well."

"Potter?" Lily finally spoke, grimacing, and Remus was forced to recall the last words James had spoken to her before the attack. He blinked, looking down at the milky brown liquid in his mug— what did she remember? Would she bring it up? What should he say, if anything?

"Yes, he was quite worried. Wasn't he, Remus?" Pomfrey asked, mindless to what had transpired between the two Gryffindors that Saturday evening. He nodded, the same tight smile still etched on his face. "Came down as soon as he found out. Early morning, McGonagall had to drag him out of here by the collar of his neck. If I wasn't so busy with you, I reckon I would've laughed myself silly."

"Really?" Lily mumbled, most of the sound muffled by the sip she had taken at the same time. But her stare was still distant, untroubled, as if it had all been too long ago. To her, at that moment, James Potter was nothing more than a mere mirage. "That's nice, I suppose."

Remus had not turned from observing the light reflecting off of the watery top of his drink. There was an eery sort of paralysis that had overcome the Hospital Wing, one which began to numb the ends of his fingers. All that waiting, all that running, cursing— it summed up to just this?

Where was the party? The roar of excitement, the celebration, the champagne?

"And what about Albus, then? Shall I send for him, dear, or would you need a moment longer?"

"How're you feeling? Do you feel up to talking?" Remus recapitulated. He tilted his head so that he could search her face, but she didn't spend more than two seconds looking at him before taking another sip from her tea and staring off at nothing.

"Yes," Lily said slowly, her eyes narrowing as she began to feel her heart speed up underneath the hospital gown she wore. Pepperup Potion— that's what Pomfrey had fed her. With every moment that passed, she could feel her brain beginning to snap and crack back into place. Her grip tightened around the mug, and she took a longer, heartier sip than before.

"Very well, he won't be long. He's been waiting," Pomfrey informed her, taking off again towards her office.

"Are you sure? You know—"

"I don't have much to say," she cut him off. Remus' eyes narrowed on her face.

"What do you mean?"

Lily tried to piece together what was going on: how had she ended up in the Hospital Wing? How long had she been there? She looked out the window— the trees did not look as if the seasons had passed. It could have been a day, it could have been a month. She began to feel a heat erupt over her body— unsure if it was the tea, the potion, or her own conclusion that she did not know what was going on. Lily did not like not knowing. She liked to know things, she liked to be kept in the loop. This was as far out of the loop as she had ever been her entire life.

"Remus, what day is it?"

"It's Wednesday. Um, November 16th."

Lily blinked.

"1977?"

"Er, yes?"

"Hm, okay," was all she said, eyes thinning on the window. "10 days." She took another go at her drink, finishing it before Remus had so much as taken a second sip. Her hand reached out for a biscuit— a growl overcoming her stomach as the hunger registered. She chewed and chewed on it, trying to fill the empty spaces in her mind with vanilla crumbs.

"What am I doing here?"

Remus glanced up at the ceiling, gnawing on his inner cheek as he tried to think of how to answer that question without exposing too much. He wasn't supposed to do anything that could affect her own recall. In this case, it was not so much him dropping the two cents as much as it was damaging the entire machine.

"Well, we were sort of hoping you'd tell us," he finally put forth.

"Tell you what? It wasn't Potter, was it?"

Oh no, Remus thought to himself. There was a handful wrong with that line of inquiry— and he was unsure where to begin, or if he should begin. In terms of priorities, however, the slight sliver of intuition was pushed to the side for the sake of salvaging his best friend's name and reputation.

It would end up being a grave mistake.

"No, James was with me all night," Remus answered, shaking his head. "From six in the evening until, well, until the next day, really."

"Right," Lily murmured.

So, what was she doing in the Hospital Wing? She bit down on another biscuit, the crumbs freely falling all over her chest as she took to observe every corner of the room. Okay, it had not been James Potter. While that would have been a highly unfavorable turn of events, it would have been an easy explanation. Not that James Potter would have had any right or reason to have planted her there for ten days, but at least she would know what was going on. Partially.

James would never, a voice told her. She shoved it away, remembering all too well, now, the face and gestures he had made during their last run-in.

"Albus," Pomfrey's voice broke their silence as the Headmaster presented himself at the entrance. But he made headway for the Gryffindors, only briefly blinking at the healer. His gaze was firm on Lily's face, and he came to a halt at the end of her bed. Remus lifted his posture, placing his back against the chair, and nodded once to greet Dumbledore. Lily looked him up and down and then placed the mug to her side.

"Miss Evan," Dumbledore began. "How pleased I am to see you up and well."

"Headmaster."

"How're you faring?"

"Good, I think." Pomfrey came to Dumbledore's side. She gestured with her chin for Remus to leave, but Lily's hand immediately reached for his, holding him in place. The face she sent Dumbledore was as stern as her grip on Remus.

"No, he can stay. Right, can't he?" Lily petitioned brusquely while Remus slowly retook his seat.

"That is for you to decide," Dumbledore said.

"I want him to stay, he can stay," Lily stated, not once releasing his hand from her grasp.

"Very well," Pomfrey ceded, pursing her lips as she looked down at the witch. Unbeknownst to them, it was more Remus she worried for, but the witch had insisted. And while the two of them certainly still felt like children, they were, indeed, adults. Adults capable of making decisions for themselves. Who was she to say no?

"Could you tell us what happened, Miss Evans?" Dumbledore posed.

Dumbledore, even though he had waited as long as everyone else had with more information than most, he, too, had been awaiting the witch's recovery with great impatience. It had not evaded him that, among the Hogwarts population, there was someone lurking who was capable and bold enough to seize such an extreme. The uneasiness that they had all felt was felt by him, too. There was no reason for an attack to have happened on the fifth floor— such an accusation alone was one that would startle anyone. There were plenty of safety mechanisms, apart from the prefects, that decorated those halls, and that the perpetuator had been able to bypass them all was a point of major concern for him. What did it entail for Hogwarts' integrity?

"I don't remember," Lily admitted.

Of all the things she could have begun with— that should have been the last of them. Dumbledore almost wanted to walk away and return, but, and in front of Remus Lupin and Poppy Pomfrey, he would be forced to allow her words to flow freely.

A damnation at its finest.

"I don't know why," she continued slowly, almost without breath.

"You don't remember being burned?" Remus asked, his grip loosening on her hand.

"Mister Lupin—"

"I was burned?"

And it was in those words that flashes of a memory long forgotten somewhat came to life. She looked at all of their long, hanging faces. On one hand, both Remus and Pomfrey were relieved that Lily did not recall the pain, the searing pain that would have accompanied such a thing. Lily, however, was rattled that she could not remember what had happened to her. She foraged her brain for the memory— for the last memory she had, or of anything like it.

She had burned her hand on a tray of Christmas cookies, once. Another time, she almost set her house on fire when she mixed water and grease together in an attempt to prove to Petunia that she did know how to cook. But, no, these were childhood memories. They were not recent, not at all. Her face twisted.

"I— I don't know. I can't remember being burnt, at least. If that's what happened…"

"What is the last thing you remember, Miss Evans?" Dumbledore prompted.

"I was on the fifth floor. It was late."

The slight tightening of Remus' hand in hers encouraged her to move forward. He knew he would be reprimanded again if he opened his mouth, but there was so much he was being asked to retain that he felt as if he would explode at any second if Lily didn't beat him to it first.

"I was on patrol, and I was with Marjory, if I'm… I think."

"Miss Bones?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, but— but we… I don't think we were together," Lily continued. "We usually aren't, at least on the fifth floor. It's just faster that way. I don't remember her being there. I remember her being on the sixth floor with me."

"What do you remember from the fifth floor?" Dumbledore urged on.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It was so… dull and quiet. No one was hanging about. The Gryffindors, well, we were upset cause we lost the game that day. I remember thinking that was probably why it was so quiet on a Saturday night."

Remus frowned, realizing that their own penchant for pride had kept them locked inside their towers. They were sore losers, after all. Sure, no one was supposed to roam the castle past curfew, but there was always some couple or group that managed to host something or other in an alcove or two on a Saturday night. Had there really been nobody?

"We lost the game to Slytherin," Lily detailed, more to herself than to the others.

"Indeed, you did," Dumbledore said.

"Sykes was going to have a party." She turned to look at Remus who had been staring at her the entire time. "Did he?"

"He did," Remus answered as low as possible, but any talk of dungeon festivities seemed to be the least of the troubles troubling their Headmaster that morning.

"Where?" Lily questioned, the two of them now in their own world. Remus glimpsed at Pomfrey and then to Dumbledore, neither one of them seemed to be bothered by their spuriously private conversation.

"Why? Does it matter?"

"Was it on the fifth floor?"

"No," Remus replied. "Why?"

"I saw Slytherins on the fifth floor," Lily explained, her face scrunched. Dumbledore's brows lifted, but he remained quiet. "They were dressed up like they were going to a party."

"Yes, they'd been like that since the morning," Remus reminded her.

"Who was dressed up?" Dumbledore intervened, watching the witch's face.

"Well, all of them," Remus told him.

"Gamp."

"Melisende Gamp?" Dumbledore repeated as Lily nodded.

"Yeah, and Selwyn, I think…" She paused, combing through the memory. "Yeah, I remember asking Gamp what she was doing there. I thought they were coming from — or headed — to a party, but they looked to be running, so I was a bit worried that something had happened. Or, I don't know, maybe they were coming for me? Maybe, they were looking for me. Maybe, something did happen. I don't know. It just looked as if they were in a rush to go or be somewhere. And I," Lily scratched her brain, but for some reason her memory stopped there. Why could she not remember anything else? What had happened after? "I don't remember what happened after that. I thought they… I remember thinking, though, that they needed help."

"Why do you believe that they needed help?" Dumbledore continued to goad.

"Yeah, what made you think they needed help?" Remus added on.

"I remember… Ugh, I don't know. They were running, so that was one thing. But I saw Kavanagh, she — while the other two came towards me — sat in an alcove, and… Or no, she didn't sit. It was odd, she fell? Or maybe, she had sat. I don't know. She was a bit further back." Lily frowned as the last of the images formed in her head. Indeed, these were the last. "She didn't look well. I was going to, that's right— as they, Gamp and Selwyn, were coming towards me, I made my way to Kavanagh. I was quite worried for her."

One look at their Headmaster's face all but confirmed what the rest of the story would be. All the blood drained from the Gryffindor wizard, and he placed the mug of tea he had been holding in his free hand onto the ground as it had been ready to drop.

"I don't remember anything else, that's all. I just remember... I remember Gamp and Selwyn being there, and Kavanagh— but I don't remember what happened after that. I don't know why. I don't know if I managed to get to Kavanagh. I don't remember seeing her up close." Then, Lily's head spun in all directions of the Hospital Wing. "Is she here?"

"No, dear," Pomfrey replied solemnly, shaking her head. Dumbledore pursed his lips as it dawned on all of them. Pomfrey looked at him. They both knew what had occurred— they both knew what would make the witch not remember.

Melisende Gamp had succeeded in erasing the witch's memory, but she had forgotten to erase the part where Lily had seen them. Alas, the intricacies of dark magic and the failures of a lawless mind.

"I will try to reverse it," Pomfrey immediately proclaimed, but with an uncertainty in her words that did little to quell Remus' weighted chest, making it difficult to breathe or swallow.

Too much time had passed, and with all the healing she had been doing, she did not know if she would ever be able to fully recover the memory. Had she known — had they thought any of their students capable of such an endeavor — she would have done something sooner. Poppy Pomfrey, though, was not Albus Dumbledore. She was, for all intents and purposes, a healer. It was a Catch-22 of sorts— if she succeeded and Lily remembered, she could provide tangible and irrefutable proof of the assault. At the same time, however, all that pain and anguish would scar and shadow her for the rest of her life. Which would she pick?

"Send for Gamp, Selwyn, and Kavanagh," Dumbledore briskly told Pomfrey. "I'll wait for them in my office."

"What?" Lily gushed, her chin flinching back as the conversation came to a sudden halt. Remus bit down on the insides of his gums, his stare fixated on his own knuckles that were intertwined with Lily's fingers. He had little to say, beginning to spiral into a tunnel.

"But I haven't fin— what else happened? What happened!?" Lily vented as Pomfrey and Dumbledore hurried on to their next task. It fell outside of their hearing ranges, it had been too frail. Neither one of them returned.

With that, Remus and Lily were left on their own to dig away at the cavity.

"Lily," he whispered, not being able to find his own voice. "I think they obliviated you."

"What? No!"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"No," Lily replied, shaking her head. "No, that— what… What did they do? Why am I here, Remus?"

"Lily," he said again, faltering, but the grip on his hand turned punishing, forcing him out of his tunnel vision. "Gamp, Selwyn, and…" Remus struggled to find his voice, but he managed. "Kavanagh set you on fire. You're here recovering from being set on fire. They erased your memory because, well, clearly because they had been planning on it. They knew what they were doing. That's why you think they were coming towards you, because they were."

"Kavanagh could barely stand," Lily was quick to strike back, but Remus had not seen what Lily had seen. And Lily had seen plenty of drunk people in her life, but the state she had seen the Slytherin witch in was not that. It surpassed being drunk, bordering a need for hospitalization. "That makes no sense."

"No, but it does, doesn't it?" Remus countered. "Gamp would've known where you were— she's a prefect. She knew the schedule. I reckon…" The mental numbness that had overwhelmed him transformed into fantasies of violence that dotted his own thoughts. The things he wanted to do formed the base of his own illustrations. His pulse sped up and everything was as clear as day. "She's been following you for weeks. She probably knew you and Marjory split up on the fifth floor— that's how she knew she'd get away with it. She waited until you were on the fifth floor alone. It was all planned, Lily. They planned it."

Well, when he laid it all out like that— yeah, it did make a lot of sense.

"Oh my god," she expelled in a pained breath. Lily's already tight grip strangled Remus, her knuckles going white. Her eyes darted every which way, but she was not looking for something. Remus remained undisturbed by the lack of blood flowing into his fingers, for it was the only thing keeping him from ripping a hole through the partition behind him.

Melisende Gamp, Rosalia Selwyn, and Eve Kavanagh set Lily on fire.

That one phrase discolored all his senses, and he would shuffle it over and over, rearranging the names in various ways. Rosalia Selwyn, Eve Kavanagh, Melisende Gamp. Or, Eve Kavanagh, Melisende Gamp, Rosalia Sewlyn. It didn't matter how he chose to assemble it, it would intoxicate him all the same.

Despite the impetuosity coursing through him at that moment, it had been only one of the multitude of sensations that had befallen him, and it would continue to evolve and morph over time. Nothing could be configured into something substantial. Though, he had been ready to break something, that need was now evaporating as everything scrambled in his head. Instead, he gleaned for information, attempting to reason it all.

Melisende Gamp's name had been thrown into the bucket for days now from those of all the Houses, Slytherin included. It would have almost been absurd had it been anyone else. Remus had not known the full extent of the witch's savagery, but he had been enlightened. Stories that had once been just noise turned into symphonies over the last ten days. As such, Melisende Gamp was someone that they could settle as being the instigator. Sure, that the Slytherin witch was barbaric did not diminish their ache to do to her what she had done to Lily, but the collective bond they had all formed based on the fact that she, indeed, was cruel managed to keep them still. There were many — not just James Potter and Remus Lupin — who would spring to Lily's side to support her, to retaliate, and to reinforce. It provided a comfort, a safe haven.

Yes, Remus was angry, but Melisende's hand in all this could, at least, be rationalized— although it was far from rational. So, when it came to her, Remus was more shocked that she had sustained all this for so long. As James had declared, someone should have said and done something earlier. Alexander Sykes, and what Remus could assume for many of the other Slytherins, had sat on the knowledge of her crimes, not uttering a word to anyone. If anything, he was more angry at them for pardoning her all this time. Besides that, he had long accepted it had been her. He was not angry at Melisende Gamp— he was withdrawn and repulsed.

At the same time, Rosalia Selwyn did displease him. It had been a curveball, but that's all it was. A rude awakening, at most. Once upon a time, he had thought of her as an independent witch just like the rest of them. She always seemed too preoccupied with herself to indulge in horseplay. Her hair and its perfectly charmed curls took first place, then her last name, and then her blood status. Yes, she was full of herself for a range of reasons— but that had been the extent of the maltreatment she imparted on others. Or so, he once thought.

Now, given a proper context, he could make out the hierarchy just fine. Rosalia Selwyn constantly stood behind Melisende Gamp, following her one way or the other like a dog chained to a leash. So, while he would have enjoyed lighting up Rosalia's pretty blonde hair with the end of his cigarette, he knew what would really relieve him was never having to look at her again. She was an insensitive bitch, but she was empty brained, too. It would almost be too easy to take her down, he knew that, so it would not satisfy him at all to do just that. In the end, what he felt for Rosalia Selwyn could have almost been pity, but really it was just displeasure and offense.

Taking all this into consideration, the anger that still ripped through him did not seem to stem from Melisende Gamp and Rosalia Selwyn. He did not have it in him to rise to the bait they dangled in front of him. All he wanted was for them to go— expelled, banished.

So, what was it that still had him grinding his teeth?

Eve Kavanagh.

Now, that was one person he was looking for a fight with.

The Slytherin witch who he had sat next to only days ago, helping, chatting, laughing with. The same person that had him briefly believing Lily's words when she had said, "It's like she cares." At the end, she had been exactly what he had always known her to be— not like them, but better. Better at the worst things to be good at. It had all been a game, a farce, a ploy. Just how good was she at manipulating the cards in her favor? Good enough to have fooled even him. Everything she had told him had been carefully selected to deceive him. Everything she had shared with him had been acutely chosen, cherry picked to mislead him. Day by day, she had driven him into a corner where he could only see what she let him see. He had been deluded into thinking it was because she had begun to trust him, but no, she had planned it. Hadn't she? He had felt sorry for her. Time and time again, he had worried for her— would Eve be okay? Did Eve eat? Are Eve and Evan sitting together? She had done this.

Did she? A small voice in his head tolled, but he swatted it away like a pesky fly. No, he would not be suckered into a debate. Lily's words had been loud and clear. He would write himself off as insane to believe the opposite, to question Lily's sincerity. Remus wouldn't dare.

Eve's cunning deceit would end there and then. No longer would he be roped into whatever game she was engaging him in. Clearly, she got off on it— didn't she? She must have enjoyed seeing him troubled and distracted— that's why she had goaded him into speaking. As he had let it all spill out, Eve had sat there, reveling sadistically in her own glory. She had gloated as he detailed not just his own trepidations but everyone's— Marjory Bones becoming a zombie, others frozen with fright. It's what she had wanted, and she had succeeded, too.

'No, believe me, she's worse than the rest of them,' Sirius' words infiltrated his thoughts. Ay, she was, he could see that now. Remus wanted to hit himself. Where and how had he missed this? How had he strayed so far?

So, what he felt for Eve Kavanagh did not come close to what he felt for Melisende Gamp or Rosalia Sewlyn.

Betrayal, disappointment, disgust, anger all mashed into mud.

He was shattered, crippled by the disarray and plethora of emotions.

And in the end, he hated her for it.

He hated her for this. Why had she done it? She had succeeded in making him believe she was safe. She could not be one of them, how could she? Why? Why fool him? Why take on such an enduring task in the first place? Why couldn't she have just been one of the good ones? It had all been a joke, always had been, laughing behind his back the moment he turned around. From the very beginning, from day one.

How cruel did someone have to be to be that?

As Remus slogged and toiled on both his emotions and the details of how he was going to approach the matter, another story unfurled in a different part of the castle.

"Kavanagh, Selwyn, and Gamp," Dumbledore greeted the three witches as they made their way up the stairwell and into his office.

Melisende Gamp headed the company to the center of the room, right in front of his desk. Her cheeks were sucked in, a fixed stare on Dumbledore as she stood with all her weight placed on one leg. The moment his eyes met hers, she crossed her arms over her chest but kept her chin high. Rosalia Selwyn stood in the center of the three. Her vision did not extend beyond the edges of her polished Mary Janes, and her hair covered most of her face as she toyed with its ends. Eve Kavanagh stood next to her, a blank expression lining her features. Only her eyes moved, glancing around the room as if in search for answers.

Odd.

"Morning," Melisende droned.

"Do you know why I've called you in here today?"

"No," she answered shortly. The other two remained quiet, only a head shake which resulted in nothing more than a toss of curls came from Rosalia.

"Someone attacked Miss Evans, two Sundays ago," he clarified.

His eye narrowed on all of them one by one. Eve Kavanagh remained without action or response, only the briefest of frowns could be detected. It was not strong enough to convey anything more than what he had already deduced. Rosalia continued to be seemingly unable to meet his gaze, but her fingers took flight between the strands of her hair, and Melisende's once fixed stare turned into a squint. If it had been anyone else, these small alterations would have been easily overlooked, but Dumbledore knew that the truth was often nothing more than a detail.

"And?" Melisende urged him to continue.

"And she has identified you three as the perpetuators of the attack."

Though he had expected an immediate response from Melisende, as noted by his firm gaze on her, it was not she who spoke next.

"Why?" Eve exclaimed, head flinching back slightly.

"Well, her last memory is of you three, Miss Kavanagh."

"Her last memory?" Melisende repeated, raising a brow.

"Indeed, Miss Gamp," Dumbledore answered, but a shy smirk began to mushroom on her lips. He would not entertain it, he would press forward for as long as he could.

"She's awake?" This time, Rosalia spoke up. Her voice was a chime, not a call, but she succeeded in looking at the Headmaster's face, though still avoiding his gaze. "When'd she wake up?"

"This morning, Miss Selwyn."

Eve turned away to gather her thoughts, left to scorch her own memory of when and what had happened to Lily Evans. Why had the Gryffindor witch, who she had not said so much as a word to in six years, pointed her finger at her?

"Are you sure?" Eve questioned.

"According to Miss Evans," Dumbledore answered.

"No, are you sure she meant me?"

"Quite."

Huh? Eve thought to herself. It did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore the minute squish of the witch's eyebrows.

"She claims that she saw you on the fifth floor at midnight on Sunday, November 6th," Dumbledore continued, refusing to be deterred by any of it. "What reason did you have to be on the fifth floor past curfew?"

"You expect me, us, to remember where we were two Sundays ago?" Melisende chuckled forcibly. "That's ridiculous."

"I don't even remember where I was last night," Rosalia tacked on with a forced grin.

"November 6th?" Eve repeated. "The weekend of the match? We won it, no?" Dumbledore nodded once in response. "We were all in the common room," she continued to verbalize her own untainted memory. She knew exactly where she had been. It was a day worth remembering, what were the other two on about? And, mostly, what was the Gryffindor witch playing at? Eve hadn't seen her once that entire day.

"All of you?" Dumbledore questioned. All of them nodded at various speeds. "There are others who can vouch for this?"

"Yes," Eve responded easily. "We were all together."

"We had a party for the Quidditch match," Melisende filled him in. She had succeeded in beating back the smirk that had been threatening to flourish across her lips, instead maintaining a severity that could cut ice, if needed. It was calculated, every breath, every word.

"Did you?" Dumbledore mused out loud, except, and while he had made every effort not to, he was beginning to see that the image in front of him was much blurrier than he had initially expected. Eve Kavanagh's certainty coupled with confusion began to itch at him, wondering whether he would truly ever know what had happened that lethal night. He pursed his lips, taking to observing the three of them again.

"And you are certain that there are others who would be able to account for your presence during the time that the events took place?"

"Yes," Melisende responded.

"Of course," Eve added. Why wouldn't they be able to? "What is it that Evans is accusing us of?"

"Of attacking her, Miss Kavanagh."

"Yes, but how? Wasn't she burnt?"

This had been the inclination that had worried him from the start of their interrogation, and it was that he was now left in the peculiar position where he believed both Eve Kavanagh and Lily Evans. How could that be possible? He did not respond right away, but remained with a still breath to wonder how it was that both witches could recount the same story but with different endings?

"Unfortunately, she doesn't remember. Didn't you hear, Eve? " Melisende all but chirped. The two of them shared a glance— Eve's slack and Melisende's teasing.

"But he said her last memory is of us," Eve reminded her.

"Oh," Rosalia broke out when the phrasing of the words finally demystified in her own head. She lifted her eyes to meet the Headmaster's. "And so, she's just blamed the three of us coincidentally? Uncanny."

Dumbledore wanted to inform her that he did not think it a coincidence in the slightest, but it would be his take on the matter, and, unfortunately, his take on the matter would be less than welcome. If the witches in front of him perceived or accused him of any bias, with proof to show, their testimonies would be null. Good for nothing. These were not muggleborns— each of them was a pureblood, coming from families that held considerable strength in various dimensions. It would take a letter and nothing more to have his own reputability brought into question, and they would walk away without so much as a slap.

Except, Lily's testimony was already hanging on by a thread. A single thread.

"If she can't remember, surely, there's no good reason to believe her," Rosalia continued, glimpsing at Melisende.

"I did not say that Miss Evans does not remember," Dumbledore defended.

"Rubbish," Melisende snorted in a dismissive laugh. "Rubbish, and you know it— where's the memory, then, so we can all see it? I'd like— I'd love to see it."

"Unfortunately, Miss Evans was unable to contribute a memory regarding her attack."

"Right, so she's lying," Melisende concluded.

"She could, however, prove with a memory that you three were on the fifth floor that night."

Melisende paused, pulling her stare from their Headmaster. Now, that was not something she had expected to hear. She had been certain of her own charm work. An emptiness filled her stomach, but Melisende Gamp was not one to take to regret. No, she would not fall to her knees and begin crying in front of the Headmaster. She would spit on him before doing such a thing. It was not almost being caught that ached her, but her very own blunder. Of course, she had forgotten to erase that part of the memory. How could she do something like that? She was supposed to be better than that. She had to be better than that. There were no excuses.

"How?" Eve whispered.

"That doesn't mean we attacked her," Melisende quickly intervened before anyone consoled Eve. "It could've been anyone. You know that just as well as I do. There's no proof we attacked her, even if she claims whatever it is she's claiming."

"Unless, of course, she's been obliviated."

"Did she say that or did you?" Melisende spat back, and Dumbledore was, once again, in the grim position where he could not be biased against the three witches— no matter who he believed. Even then, he did not know anymore who or what he believed.

"That is what we are healing her for," Dumbledore simply put, but Melisende knew the terms and quirks of the wizarding world. So, all she did was roll her eyes and straighten her back. Whatever else had been tinting her comportment disappeared, sinking into nothing more than blatant smugness.

"If Miss Evans," she began in a sickly sweet voice, "did not say she was obliviated, then there is no reason to believe that she was."

Melisende had, in essence, told Dumbledore he had lost. Except, he knew he had. He knew that it would be close to impossible the moment that Lily Evans, a muggleborn witch, had failed to mention in her own testimony that she had been hexed. All she had been able to recite was that she could not remember. The simple yet damning phrasing of the matters would be — would have always been — not an impediment but a cage. Unfair, unjust? Of course, and Dumbledore knew that, which is why he had wanted to flee and return at a later point. But, in their world, justice and law did not favor those who came from the outside. It never had. It favored those like the three witches standing before him, for this knowledge passed down only in two ways: education or experience, of which, they had both and those like Lily Evans had neither, nor had she any reason to inform herself of Wizarding Law in the past.

"She's saying it was us because she doesn't like us, obviously," Melisende drawled out.

"Possibly, Miss Gamp," Dumbledore said plainly. "If, however, Pomfrey is able to reverse the memory loss, then it will be a different matter."

"If," Melisende repeated, leaning back, at ease and in control. It was a stance of victory.

Though he had been left with less than what he had hoped— this is what Dumbledore knew: he knew that Melisende Gamp, if not the other two, had a hand in this. A strong, firm one, too. At the same time, he knew that she would get away with it. He had no irrefutable proof to counter her except for Lily's memory attesting to Melisende Gamp being the last person she saw. He knew that it would be harder without the proof of the actual attack or another witness, but he had hoped to trick his way through their words and behaviors, and he had. This is how he was certain Melisende Gamp was at fault. But, then, there was Eve Kavanagh— completely lost in the woods, and Rosalia Selwyn who seemed to be teetering on the edge of confessing to it all, holding back only because Melisende was standing beside her. Melisende had been holding the reins and directing the horse— without her, maybe Rosalia Selwyn would have said it all to him.

In light of this, he realized the real fault laid with himself. Dumbledore had made the grave mistake of calling them in all together. How had he not thought to call them in one by one? First, it was because Dumbledore did not think to question Lily Evans' words, he had wanted to believe them fully and truly. What reason had he to not? Except, Eve had been successful in convincing him that there was another story lurking behind the events of November 6th. Second, he had only just become conscious of the fact that Melisende's reign of terror coursed through Rosalia Sewlyn's blood, keeping her in line. She did not dare do anything to step out of it, not in her presence— at least.

"Very well, if you would provide me with a list of those who are able to vouch for your presence Sunday, November 6th at midnight, then that will be all," Dumbledore finished, defeated.

"Sure," Melisende conceded, turning to walk out of the office with Rosalia in toe. Eve stood still, peering from some unknown distance to the Headmaster.

"Will you let us know if she remembers anything?" Eve asked in a soft voice.

"Miss Kavanagh," he began, watching the last of Rosalia Selwyn's head disappear down the stairs. "Would you request a private audience?"

"I would, but I don't have much to offer," Eve admitted. "I wasn't there, Headmaster. I don't know why Evans thinks I was." The witch looked to be at a complete loss, mirroring precisely what Dumbledore felt himself at that moment.

"She said when she saw you, you looked quite unwell," Dumbledore explained. "So much so, that she was about to come to your aid." It was in repeating the words out loud that, somewhat, something came together. Eve Kavanagh had been there, but had she truly, completely been there? Mind, soul, and body? At the very least, Dumbledore could partially absolve the witch standing before him. "Do you remember feeling unwell?"

"Yes," Eve said truthfully. "But I went back to my dormitory. I was going to sleep it off."

"Sleep what off?"

"The liquor," she whispered, not meeting his gaze.

"I see," Dumbledore finished. Eve nodded once and turned to take her exit. "Miss Kavanagh?" She paused before taking the first step, looking back over her shoulder.

"If anything changes, would you inform me?"

"I think so," Eve said, for, at that moment, she could not understand what it was that could possibly change anything. She had not been there, she was as certain of it as she was of the most basic information— her name, her age, her birthplace. It was a fact, not a question, not an opinion.

"Thank you, Miss Kavanagh."

"Headmaster."

"There you are," Melisende hissed, grabbing Eve by her shoulder and dragging her down the hall. Eve's eyes darted between her and Rosalia, the latter beaming, giggling as Melisende breathed hot against her neck.

What the fuck? Eve thought to herself.

"What took you so long? What did you tell him?" Melisende snarled, shoving her forward into the wall. Eve's chin flinched back, her eyes widening.

"Nothing," Eve told her. "I was— I only wanted to know a bit more of what she saw."

"Of what she thinks she saw," Melisende corrected her.

"Yes."

Melisende leaned back, a hand anchored on her hip as she scanned Eve up and down. A foot tapped against the stone floor, but she relented— a smirk breaking across her face.

"Bloody idiots, all of them," Melisende jeered.

"They haven't a clue," Rosalia snickered. "We're going to get away with it!"

Eve froze, her face and stomach dropping.

"What do you mean get away with it?" Eve questioned as if she had misheard.

"Kavanagh," Melisende announced, putting a hand on both her shoulders. "You're bloody good at this, you know?"

"So good," Rosalia hummed in agreement.

"Keep doing what you're doing, and no one'll ever know the better," Melisende said, placing her lips to Eve's forehead. Eve would have flinched from the sudden touch, but she was too gone. It was difficult enough to even speak, much less move.

As the other two continued to cheer and giggle, Eve remained still. Her mouth went dry, propelled by the lump forming in the back of it. It stopped any and all liquid from going down her throat. All thoughts centered on everything from November 6th until right then and there. There had to be a logical explanation, there had to be something there.

Except, it seemed the Gryffindor witch was not the only one who could not remember. Why couldn't she remember, too? Had she been hexed with a memory loss charm and why? No, that wouldn't explain half of it, would it? It would be impossible— Melisende had all but patted her on the back for a job well done. She had just thrown Eve against a wall because she thought Eve had betrayed her. Betrayed her of what? What was there to betray? No, she was not hexed— she knew that, but it would mean that she did not remember because she did not remember. How?

Eve replayed all the events of that day. For the most part, and much to her dismay, she could not place the memories in a chronological order. It was not linear, far from it, actually. A lot of a lot had been done on November 6th, much of it only glimpses and nothing more. She could remember the highlights— the game, the party, but the details were a blur. She had taken a shot with Regulus Black. She had danced on a table with Alexander Sykes. She had begun to cry from laughter with Cedric Avery. But all of that had happened in the confines of their common room, far from the fifth floor, far from Melisende Gamp.

Eve continued to rush through the memory, forcing herself to remember every detail. It had been meant to be forgotten with time, but she had to now. She had to redeem it all. Indeed, she hadn't been lying to Dumbledore when she said she had begun to feel unwell and had retreated to her dormitory, but her thoughts turned off after that.

She had gone back to her dormitory, taken Dawdle Draught, and gone to sleep.

Eve had taken Dawdle Draught so that she would be able to fall asleep after intaking an excessive amount of the rock with Alexander Sykes throughout the day. Her heart had ended up coming out of her chest, and she thought, at one point, she was going to die. So, to avoid passing out in front of the entire House of Slytherin, she had decided to call it a night.

Except, Dawdle Draught wasn't meant for sleep.

'It'll sedate the taker without putting him or her to sleep, being asleep but awake at the same time, mind and body,' Lily Evans' words from that defining September potions class hurdled back into her.

And, surely, it wasn't meant to be mixed with Dingle Drown. Another sedative.

Now alone in the corridor, Eve collapsed onto the ground, her hands clutched into her hair.

"No," she cried in a whisper.

"Lily," Dorcas greeted as she stepped into the Hospital Wing half-way through the lunch hour. Mary and Marlene were behind her, making their way over to Lily's side. Lily wished they had walked into something merrier, lighter. She should have been jumping over the moon to see her friends for the first time since she woke, but she could not muster so much as a smile.

"Remus told us you woke up," Mary said, reaching down to squeeze a comforting hand on Lily's blanketed legs. A smile lined her lips, but it was faulty, too thin to reach the corners of her eyes.

"They're getting away with it," Lily informed them immediately. A silence ensued, one that told her this was not the first time they were thinking it. "You saw them at lunch, didn't you? They're still here."

"We did," Marlene answered steadily. Mary sighed, pursing her lips.

"How?" Dorcas asked, shaking her head. "How's it possible—"

"Because I, apparently, said that I don't remember," Lily laughed coldly, but every muscle in her body felt as heavy as one of the stones propping up the castle.

"But you were hexed," Dorcas said quickly, almost as if it was a single word.

"What? Who told you that? How do you—"

"No, Remus— we sat with them during lunch. They— we sort of had to…" Dorcas mumbled, feeling her cheeks light up. They would never be conscious of the embarrassment mingling with her admission. The perks, she supposed, of having a dark complexion. She still felt a tad too warm, though.

"Had to?" Lily repeated.

"James was about to blow up the entire Slytherin table," Marlene clarified. "Lupin was doing little to help— took to playing with his food, pretending as if he wasn't there."

"Yeah, it needed Sirius, Peter and us," Mary gestured to the three of them, "to keep James from sending all three of them here."

"God," Lily muttered under her breath.

"Anyway," Dorcas quickly intervened. "Remus said that Pomfrey's treating you for it— the memory loss, that is."

"Right, great," Lily said, taking another deep inhale. "I thought maybe, I don't know, I thought maybe you had overheard something… One of them." More than anything, she was disappointed that they had learned from Remus. It had been, for a brief moment, a candlelight— lit up and extinguished just as fast. "I forgot to say it, and..." She faltered, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and looking up to the ceiling with gummy eyes. Lily fought back the hot, watery drops threatening to spill.

"Well, say it now," Marlene demanded.

"My testimony, believe it or not, has been given… I did not know, I didn't realize that that was my testimony. I did tell them, but it'll be a lot harder for anyone to believe me now because I didn't start with that. Or mention it at all. One of the first things I said, and kept saying, was that I don't remember," Lily explained, filling them in on everything she had just received notice of. "It was a technicality. They're getting away with it because of a fucking technicality."

The parts that had, until then, been missing to her, as well. She loved the world of magic, but, oh, did she hate it at the same time. With all of its fine print and loopholes that one would know of only if they had been privy to that knowledge from elsewhere. A girl who grew up in muggle, blue-collar England, she had not had access to such classified information. Obviously.

"That's bollocks!" Dorcas spewed, her mouth hanging open as she stared at Mary. But Marlene, the only one among them who knew — who could understand — only sighed. The soldier-like stance she had walking to and into the Hospital Wing fell to a slumped posture.

"So, it's your word against theirs, then?" Marlene asked. "That's it? It's over, then?"

"They might get a detention for being out past curfew, if I submit the memory to Dumbledore," Lily responded, lifting her fists up in a mock cheer. "Happy days."

"Bollocks."

"There's got to be more than that," Mary said, looking at all of them. "Surely, it's got to be more than that."

"What other proof is there?" Lily repeated the information that Pomfrey had just conveyed to her and turned them into questions, completely rhetorical and nothing else. "They've even managed a list of people who can vouch for them that night."

"What!?" Dorcas shouted.

"That list is shite," Marlene said. "There's no way it's true. They're all lying."

"Maybe, but there's over five people who can vouch for them each, and provide detailed accounts of what and where they were," Lily told them, the disbelief staining every single word.

"They just wrote up their mates! Of course they would, how is that proof?" Mary exclaimed.

"I don't know, but it's more than what I have." Lily's shoulders dropped, and she gave a small shrug. "Reckon I won't even submit the memory— a detention, really? It's pointless, desperate. And Gamp will find a way out of it— claiming some sort of prefect duty. Fuck do I know..."

"James took her off of rounds," Marlene informed her. Lily met her stare.

"She still has a badge, though."

"We won't let them get away with it," Marlene began, bending over and placing a hand on Lily's shoulder. "I promise, we'll find a way."

"How?" Lily asked. "We can't torture them into admitting the truth. It's my word against theirs. And they're three, I'm only one. I have no proof. None."

"Well, they're not the only ones who can play dirty," Dorcas stated.

"No, no, don't do that! Don't go after them, please," Lily began to beg as her heart quickened in her chest. As much as she wanted to see justice for herself, she did not want this to be the event that sparked off the exact war she had been rambling to Remus about weeks ago. She would not let that happen. Things were ugly, but they could get a lot uglier. And, yes, she would not let these people step over her. She would get her justice, one day she would, but that day was not then, it was not there. Not at Hogwarts. Lily could be bigger than herself.

"Dorcas, Marly— I'm being serious. Don't you dare."

"Okay, okay," Marlene promised hesitantly. "But we won't— there's no way we'll let them get away with it. We'll figure something out, yeah?"

But her words sounded as meek as Lily's had when she had handed them the final verdict.

"What's he want?" Lily groaned, throwing her head back and looking up at the ceiling. The three other witches before her turned to look back at the figure who had just disappeared into the corridor.

"Snape," Marlene growled under her breath, marching forward to chase after him. She was a jock, for crying out loud, and her legs could go much faster than Severus Snape would ever manage in a lifetime. Whatever escape he had thought he could accomplish was nothing to her. Within seconds, she was able to reach for the hood of his robes, yanking him back.

"Get off me McKinnon!" Severus yelped, ripping away from her grip. His back was pressed up as far as it could go into the wall behind him as if he would disappear right through it. He did not.

"What'd you want!?"

"I— nothing," he responded, shaking his head quickly.

"What're you doing here?"

"I— I needed something from Pomfrey, that's all," he stammered.

"Why don't you go get it, then?" Marlene challenged, placing her hands on her hips.

"You— I thought maybe she was busy. I'll come back later," he replied uneasily.

"Lying git," she spat, scrunching up her nose and looking down at him with nothing short of distaste. "Don't think for a second I don't know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything, McKinnon," Severus flung back, finding his footing. He lifted himself off the wall.

"You won't be coming near Lily! I won't let you, you fucking—"

"I saw Gamp at lunch."

"Yeah, you and your little gang of wannabe death eaters are getting away with it! Does that make you lot happy? Plenty to celebrate, I'm sure, Snivellus?"

But Severus was not thinking about the words sprawling out of the Ravenclaw's mouth. His thoughts were far from that corridor, tangled up together, unsure how to disentangle them. He had hoped for an audience with Lily, discreetly, privately, but every time he had tried that day— there had been someone around. Any and all discretion, now, had to be thrown out the window.

Severus knew — had known — that it was Melisende Gamp. He had not known of the plan, but once it had reached his ears that next day— it did not need a second guess as to who it had been. Everyone waited, though, for Lily to wake up to confirm it. Except, Severus had known they were all waiting for nothing— sitting ducks and nothing else. He knew that Melisende Gamp was too clever to do such a thing without ensuring her complete preservation. While the rest waited, Severus found the answers that they all sought. It would've been the perfect grounds to reverse the tables in his favor, to have Melisende Gamp hanging by his chain, but it was Lily. So, he would settle for just removing the thorn in his side. He could do without Melisende— it was good enough.

"They're seventeen," he stated steadily, holding Marlene's gaze for a second too long to ensure she heard him clearly.

"And?"

"Oy! Snape, that's not you— is it!?" James barked as he approached Severus and Marlene. Severus took one look at James Potter and Remus Lupin making their way towards him, and he jetted off, rushing in the opposite direction. Marlene watched as he scurried off, her brows still knit together.

"What'd he want?" James asked as he came to a stop in front of Marlene.

"I don't know— he didn't say much."

"Nothing?" James inquired, lifting his brows. "Merlin, Marlene, you could've—"

"I think he wanted to tell Lily something," she continued.

"Like what?" Remus prodded.

"I don't know," Marlene admitted, sighing. "All he said— before you two scared him off, mind you, was that they were seventeen."

"What?" Remus asked.

"Odd," James commented.

"Isn't it? What's he on about?"

"I don't know. I don't spend much time thinking about how Snivellus thinks," James snorted.

"What'd you think he meant?" Remus quizzed, looking at Marlene.

"Well, he's not wrong, yeah?"

"No," Remus agreed.

"And he also said he saw Gamp at lunch," Marlene repeated back to them the conversation she had just come from. "He came here to tell Lily they were seventeen after seeing Gamp at lunch?"

"Like I said— don't spend too much energy trying to figure Snape out, you'll break your brain trying to make sense of it," James said.

"Did you figure out why Gamp and them are still here, Marlene?" Remus asked. "Did Lily say—"

"They're getting away with it because... Well, fuck do I know? A bunch of stupid pureblood shite. Lily didn't say she was hexed during her initial testimony, she should have— but that's the gist of it," Marlene huffed.

"How would she've known?" Remus asked pointedly. "Only purebloods think like that— you know that, Marlene. She's never had to deal with something like this before. How'd she have known?"

"Listen, Lupin, Lily shouldn't have said she couldn't remember. That's a sure way to put a dagger into anything like this."

"A dagger?" Remus repeated while James' nostrils flared.

"It's just how things are. I know it's not fair, it's not," she continued.

"Dumbledore can't possibly believe that shite," James rushed. "There's no way, he has to know."

"What Dumbledore wants and what Dumbledore can do are two entirely different matters," Marlene told him.

"Bollocks," James spat out.

"I don't like it either, but he can't expel three students only because he believes Lily and not Gamp," Marlene argued.

"What!?" James scowled. "How can you not believe Lily? That's—"

"I'm not saying that's what I think," Marlene countered. "But that's what Dumbledore's thinking. He's—"

"So, it's one word against three?" Remus asked, staring with an exasperated face at James, as if James had all or any of the answers in the first place.

"If Lily can't remember— there's no proof," Marlene said, stomping a foot on the ground. "Bloody hell, you two, can you just stop it with the martyr act for one second? Please! I'm trying to bloody think!"

James ran a hand through his hair and Remus' shoulders sunk down.

"What the fuck can we do, then?" Remus sounded as if he was begging for an answer.

"Be there for her?" Marlene offered.

"Am I meant to put Gamp on rounds?" James was all but reminded that the witch, too, wore a gold badge. How was he supposed to rein in Melisende Gamp? "I kept her off for two weeks, am I meant to continue doing that? What about meetings, am I to play nice then, too?"

"No, don't put her on rounds," Remus told him, shaking his head.

"Don't," Marlene added as if the answer to that was obvious. "Keep her as far away as possible."

"I'll be one short—for two weeks, fine, but all year?"

"So, you take it, then— the fuck did they make you Head Boy for, James?" Marlene bit back. "You asked what we can do— there, that is one thing! Since you want to do something so badly." James let out a bout of air as he realized his options were to either patrol with Melisende Gamp or to take her off entirely and add yet another thing to his schedule. "Lily can't be left alone. I reckon none of the muggleborns can be."

"They wouldn't go after anyone during the day," Remus said.

"I don't know, you saw Snape crawling around just now," Marlene reminded him.

"But you said he came to tell Lily something."

"Yes, true," Marlene conceded. "I just don't know why."

"What if Pomfrey is able to fix it?" James interjected, lost in his own world.

"A week and a half after?" Marlene posed, even she knew they were reaching for the stars. Remus collapsed against the wall behind him, rubbing a hand over his face. There was nothing that they could do? Nothing?

"There's got to be something we can do," Remus muttered.

"There's plenty we can do," James assured him.

"That doesn't involve violence."

"Why not? If Dumbledore doesn't want to fucking do something about it, what other options are there?" James interrogated.

"Lily really doesn't want us going after them," Marlene informed him.

"Fuck that—"

"Fuck that?" Marlene challenged, daring him to continue. For Marlene, whatever followed would be in line with what made Lily comfortable. James, however, was taking it a step above and beyond, as if the crime had been dealt to him personally. It was dangerous territory to walk on, and Marlene would not stand idly by to watch it unfurl. James pushed a hand into his forehead as he leaned his shoulder against the wall and stared at the Ravenclaw. "No, we can't, Lily's the one in the Hospital Wing. We'll do as she wants, it's only right."

"I waited 10 days. I didn't put a finger on Gamp for ten fucking—"

"Good bloody job, James," Marlene hissed between bared teeth. "You and the rest of us— wow, yeah? Pats on the back all 'round. Good job team."

"Marly—"

"No, James, this isn't about you. Lily's the one in the Hospital Wing, Lily was the one attacked— we do as she says, and if you do anything else without speaking to her first, then I promise you, no one will have your back."

Speak for yourself, Remus thought to himself but kept it back. He doubted he would be in any position to go against Lily's wishes. If those were truly her wishes, that is. His eyes narrowed as he tried to place Severus Snape in all this. What had he been doing there?

"Well," Remus began, tilting his head back and forth. All eyes fell on him. "There's one option, give it to Snape to have thought of it first, though."

"I thought we said no violence, Lupin."

"No, not that," Remus reassured her with a lifted hand. His eyes were fixed on a stone brick lining the corridor.

"Then, what?" Marlene urged.

"Yeah, mate, speak, come on," James added.

"I know, it's just that, it's not that easy, so I'm not sure how much of an option it really is," Remus explained.

"Just spit it out, Lupin," Marlene commanded.

"Seeing as they're all of age, they could be tried by the Wizengamot," Remus stated simply, though each word had been measured and tried for accuracy. "Yeah?"

"Can they?" James asked, standing straight again.

"Technically," Remus told them. "They did attack another witch, but—"

"But at Hogwarts," Marlene finished for him.

"Yeah."

"So?" James quizzed.

"So, that means for the aurors to get involved, it'd have to be something really important…" Marlene's words trailed off as if there was more to it than just that. Remus knew that there was, and he grimaced at the thought of it.

"Or someone," Remus finally added.

"Not Lily, you're saying?" James asked for clarification.

"Well, no, it depends," Remus answered, eyes lifting to Marlene. "How much hold does your family have with the aurors?"

"My entire family, they're aurors," Marlene replied, a lightbulb going off in her head. "Oh, fuck."

"That's right," James breathed. "Merlin."

"Would they be willing…?" Remus continued.

"Of course," Marlene told him. And Remus felt like, finally, something had lit up inside him, too. "Of course they would, they love Lily."

"When?" James inquired. "How fast?"

"These things are hardly fast," Marlene told him. "It'll take some time. They'll all take testimonies under veritaserum. Proof will be given, whatever they can manage— barristers will be called, I'm sure, but, yeah, it can happen."

"Thank Merlin," James let out at the same time that a grin broke across Remus' face.

"Why didn't I think of it?" Marlene questioned, looking at Remus. "Good job."

"Well, thank Snape, believe it or not."

"No," James interjected, face falling. "Never."

"Right, yeah," Marlene agreed, nodding. So much time had been spent of what had happened and how to fix it that she had spent little time actually thinking in detail about the who.

"Does this mean they're going to Azkaban?" James cheered, placing a hand on Marlene's shoulder. Marlene smiled weakly, though, as she continued to think, in detail, about the who.

"We'll see what happens," is all she managed, unsure whether that would be the real outcome. At most, however, some sort of measure would be taken to ensure that they would not be able to continue attending Hogwarts. That, at least, was enough for Marlene. But she did not say anything else— realizing the full breadth of what it was that she would undertake, of what it was that she would ask her family to undertake on her behalf. She had almost wished she hadn't spoken.

"What? Are you having second thoughts?" Remus asked as soon as he saw the slightest indication of hesitancy cross her face.

"No," Marlene said all too quickly. "No, it's just… I don't know, I don't know what will happen."

"Get them the fuck out of Hogwarts, at least," James said.

"Yeah," Marlene agreed, but she would be lying to herself if she truly thought that was all it would amount to.

"Oh god," Lily muttered as she saw the sight before her. She laid the mug she had been holding onto her stomach, sighing as James and Remus walked through the doors.

"Dorcas, Mary," Remus greeted the departing witches.

"Where did Marly go, did you see her? She ran after—"

"She's just in the corridor," Remus told Mary.

"Thanks."

"Evans," James announced with a bright, toothy smile. Remus pressed his lips together, holding his hand on his bag strap as he lifted the other to Lily. The two of them came to stand at the foot of her bed, her eyes glancing between them.

"Remus."

"Lily," Remus returned, nodding. He was standing ever so slightly behind James, so she could make out just fine the way he glanced to the back of James' head. She held back a snort. At the same time, it was not lost on James that she had not acknowledged him, apart from a slight glance in his direction.

"Uh," James began, looking back at Remus, who was staring at the ground. "I just came to see— Remus told me you woke up this morning. So, I wanted to say hi."

"Well, hi," Lily said.

"How're you doing?" James asked, suddenly feeling as if he was intruding.

"I'm fine."

"That's good."

"Isn't it?"

It was almost as if Lily was ready to sputter out a million and trillion different things, as if she wanted to hex him into oblivion. James knew what that looked like— he had seen it and been the face of it a thousand times over. And Lily was doing very little to keep it under control, matter of fact, she wasn't at all.

"Did you... Marly's going to write to her family, um, see if they can get the aurors involved."

"Mhm."

"Yeah, it's because—"

"I'm sure Marlene will fill me in on all the details," Lily cut him off.

"Sure, yeah." James glanced around the wall above Lily. "Did something happen? Just now, with... Dorcas and?" he asked hesitantly. Remus lifted his brows and looked off to the side with a pinched expression.

"No, well, now that you ask— I don't know. Seems that I can't remember anything," she bit back coldly, shakily. "You should tell me, Potter, did something happen?"

James felt the same way he had felt only one other time in his life— but never with Lily. An inkling that he had done something wrong, terribly wrong. Remus, too, was eyeing her out of the corner of his eyes, wondering where the sudden coldness had been extracted from. Sure, she had reason enough to be upset with James, but it was unlike her to approach it this way. She never wove and wound around what perturbed her— she just spat it out.

"Lily, listen, if… I don't know if I did something—"

"James, maybe it's best you go," Remus whispered to him from his side, placing a hand on his arm. He looked down at it, his eyes narrowing on his friend's hand.

"What did I do?" James questioned, glancing between the two of them.

James could briefly remember Peter telling him, in his daze before marching through the entire castle to find Lily, that he had yelled at Lily— but that wasn't anything new. They were constantly yelling at one another, that's all they really ever did— shout at one another. Sure, it had been less frequent as of late, but it was still a common enough occurrence. He grimaced as he realized he did not remember, at all, what they had been fighting over. How bad had it been?

"Nothing, I'll explain later—"

"What did you do?" Lily repeated with a scowl, her nose scrunching as she looked over him with disgust. James almost wanted to put a hand over his heart at the sight of it. A complete offense. Remus swallowed, realizing he would never have the chance to explain. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"What?!" James shouted.

This time, a hand actually went to his heart. Remus, too, paused, unsure what Lily being in the Hospital Wing had to do with James. He had managed to stop James before anything like that had even come close to happening. He had watched James like a hawk, both him, Peter and Sirius, for the rest of the night. There was no way that James had anything to do with Lily's current state.

"Evans, there's a lot that I do — I've done — sure, but this," James gestured over the entire scene in front of him, "is not one of them. I'm quite certain."

"Oh, no?" Lily challenged, her eyes wide. "God, what kind of world do you live in, Potter? It must be wonderful, seeing only yourself and nothing else."

"Come again?"

"You think this has nothing to do with you?" Lily continued, the anger firing up her loins, her teeth grinding one against the other. "You think you would really get away with what happened at Halloween? You really thought that?"

Both wizards froze, Remus fully turning to look at Lily. He felt his skin crawl, his blood drain from his face as her words fell on him. Lily did not seem to notice that he was there, had she— she would have requested a private audience with James. But she was angry, so angry, and she could not keep it in any longer. Not after everything she had been subjugated to. She had sat beside Remus that morning, and while she looked at him, all she could think about was the way Severus had looked at her.

They'll come for you, he had warned her without so much as a word.

And they had.

"You blame us?" Remus asked weakly, pointing to himself. His mouth remained open as he searched her face.

"Bollocks!" James exclaimed with a short laugh. "That's— you can't, are you… You don't possibly believe that?"

"But I do," Lily asserted. Remus was left speechless, and James was huffing away at the incredulity of the witch's take. "If you hadn't done what you did at Halloween, I don't think this would've happened, no."

Remus felt like throwing up, his eyes beginning to turn hot. He turned around, exiting the Hospital Wing without so much as a word to the rest of them. James looked at him, then to Lily and back at Remus. He was torn between the two of them. On one hand, he wanted to tell Lily off for ever uttering something as stupid as that, and on the second, it looked like Remus was about to have a meltdown in the corridor, middle of the day.

"Great, look what you did," James told her with a sigh.

"What I did?" Lily bit back. "Please, poor Remus— the shite he's had to put up with just to be friends with you lot."

"What do you know of it?" James retorted.

"Plenty, actually," Lily responded, pulling her eyes from him.

James' stomach dropped as it dawned on him what that could mean. Remus could not have possibly told Lily about that? There was no way he would have, they had sworn to one another that they wouldn't say anything to anyone. He froze, and then he began to make his own exit— realizing that maybe Lily did, indeed, know. If she did, well, he really didn't want her to, honestly, but if she did, he did not want to ever hear anything of it coming out of her mouth— ever.

"Mate," James said when he reached Remus, who was standing with his face to the wall, one hand pushed against it. He looked down to the ground as he tried to catch his breaths, hyperventilating. "Mate, listen, what she said… You know it's mad, yeah?"

"But it isn't, is it?" Remus said in a strained breath. "It makes plenty of sense."

"No, we didn't hurt anyone, no one ended up in the Hospital Wing for a whole week. It was harmless, this is… This is different," James assured him, because James, not for one second, could he or would he connect the events of Halloween with what had happened to Lily. How could he? That would be absolutely ridiculous, but James had also not been on the receiving end of it. Lily, who had seen what the other end looked like — she had seen what it had done to her childhood best friend — knew what it looked like to beat a dead horse. There was only so much they would have taken before taking back.

She had just worried, or thought, that it would've been one of them and not her. How ignorant she had been, an innocent little girl with rose colored glasses.

"We've got to fix this," Remus told him. "We've got to make—"

"Gamp, Selwyn, Kavanagh— they're all gone. Marlene is writing her family as we speak," James reminded him. "They're gone, and Lily stays. She'll still be here, and they won't."

For some reason, that was not enough for Remus to absolve him of his crimes, but he knew unless he retaliated— there was nothing else he could do but wait. Not unless, as Lily had said, they wanted to start a war within a war. Who the fuck would want that? He swallowed hard, feeling faint, counting his breaths. He reached into his pocket for his chocolate, placing the whole bar into his mouth and ripping off a chunk of it. He fell in a lump to the ground, and James, who had been privy to this before, sat next to him so that his friend could lean on him as he waited to regain his strength. It would take a moment, but he would recover. Remus had grown accustomed to it— often being able to catch it before the darkness overtook him.

Remus felt terrible in every way one could feel terrible.

Hello, yes, in this story things happen because they make sense to happen that way. I hope in the next chapter, you will realize what this part of the story is trying to show/teach, etc.

Also, thank you for all the reviews. You're all so lovely. I'm glad you like the OCs and the quirkiness of some of the content. The next chapter is almost done, as well, so I will have it posted soon. Much love, M. xx