He had had two days to brew. Two days to sit and oscillate on how to size up the present state of affairs. He had wavered, admittedly. He had contemplated not going at all, ignoring it, having a third-party communicate on his behalf. Remus could have sent James, or he could have gone to McGonagall and expressed his concerns, but come 4:54, six minutes before their scheduled meeting, he had found it in himself to get up off the couch and out into the castle.

He was quick, nearly sprinting through the corridors from the Gryffindor tower to the classroom on the same floor. An urge, a need to deal with something once and for all. It drove him, at first, but as he came to approach the door, his steps slowed. Remus stood at an angled distance, allowing him to peer through the open door into the room. There was nothing unfamiliar about it, he had walked into that very classroom nearly ten times now to those same features. There should have been no reason to pause, and yet he remained, debating whether to enter or to turn around and leave, pretending as if he had never been there.

Fuck, Remus cursed as he took a seat on the thin window sill across from the open door. He bent forward, placing both his elbows on his thighs as he ran a hand over his face. It would be of the easiest of tasks to return to Gryffindor tower and ask James to handle the most basic part of it. Then, Remus could go on in life without so much as ever thinking of the witch sitting inside that classroom again. She would become nothing more than a blip in his own timeline.

"Remus," she greeted him, breaching his retreat. Remus lifted his eyes to Eve, who remained in the doorframe. "I heard shuffling, but it's only you." It was quiet, once more, in the corridor. A blink, a heartbeat, a sigh or two was exchanged. "You won't come in?"

"I've come to let you know that I won't be tutoring you anymore."

"Oh," Eve said, voice dropping. "Why?"

They remained on opposite sides of the hall. Remus stared off into the direction he had come from, but had not shifted to look at her since the initial greeting. Eve watched him, following his gaze momentarily before returning it on him. She pressed her lips together. He did not seem keen on leaving the confines of the arch anytime soon, so she approached. Remus could make out the advance just fine from the corner of his eye.

"You know why," he responded flatly.

There were many things Remus could have said. He could have offered any other excuse, and he knew that even if she protested, he would have the last say. He had been given explicit permission by McGonagall herself that he could end it at any point. He was not forced to be there right now, but he had come. He had come to do one thing, hadn't he? And he had done it. It was done. Remus did not owe Eve an explanation. He had done her a favor by even bothering to inform her as much, so that she did not spend the rest of her afternoon waiting for him. She didn't even deserve that, but he had done it.

Except, he was not walking away, and he had not offered up a lie.

Although he knew it would be pointless to do so because Eve, ultimately, would be found guilty and punished, Remus had subconsciously come to pick a bone. Maybe, if Lily had not declared to him and James that she blamed them for her attack, it would have been different. But the guilt, coupled with the indignation of seeing a loved one hurt, had been eating at him for the last two days, and he knew he had to do whatever he could to liberate himself from its clutches, or else he would never be able to look at Lily again.

"Maybe," she said, coming to stand by the wall to his right.

"Maybe?" Remus repeated, his eyes thinning.

"Maybe, but I could be wrong."

"Don't play dumb," he stated with an exasperated breath, settling his back against the glacial window to finally look at her. Eve watched with a stony expression, one side of her body slightly pressed against the wall. "I don't know what you think of me, but I'm not a fucking idiot. I know what you did, and you know perfectly well what you did, too. That's why I don't want to tutor you. I don't want anything to do with you."

It was not so much the accusation that made her want to slink away, but the last of it: I don't want anything to do with you. It was the second time he had implied it, but the first time he had chosen to say it. There was no indication of inability. If Remus had selected, instead, to say that he couldn't tutor her anymore, then maybe her body wouldn't have responded the way that it had.

Eve etched a fingernail into her own hand and carved it up and down in a small, indiscernible line.

"Does this have anything to do with Lily?"

"Don't say her name. Don't, just don't. You don't get to say her name," Remus returned immediately, shaking his head the entire time he spoke as if the words had been a wagging finger.

"So, it does?"

"Of course it does! How're you still going to pretend you're bloody innocent?"

"I didn't hurt her," Eve answered, her voice barely audible— a stark contrast to his own growing one.

Now, Remus was a quiet sort when it came to anger, and it rarely, if ever, overtook him the way it would others. He was not one to speak up when someone offended him, those sorts of affronts did little to ignite rage. Rather, he would just sulk and repress. At most, the witch's trickery and betrayal had only pushed him into a realm of frustration. Sure, Eve had taken complete advantage of him, but that was a slight against him. It was not enough to wreak havoc or cause trouble. If it had been him in the Hospital Wing, he would have shrugged it off and moved on with his life. But it had not been him.

"Lily saw you."

"She's no proof," she countered— the same line she repeated to anyone who asked her of it after learning that her name had been proclaimed.

They finally locked stares, and Eve attempted a brief, strained smile as she continued to knife away at her hand. Remus, however, had uncovered for himself that Eve was a master of manipulation, and though the sight before him would have made anyone doubt that she could ever set someone on fire, he knew it to be but a trick. He stood up, towering over her. Given everything, it was disturbing. Eve was already of the shorter stock, and Remus was obnoxiously long-legged. The sudden shift in dynamic, coupled with the context at hand, forced her a step back to level the field as best as she could.

"There's plenty of proof," Remus argued. "No one bloody believes you, and everyone knows you did it. You got off because of a nonsense detail. You're lucky, not innocent."

"Remus, I—"

"Besides, I don't have to tutor you. And I don't want to tutor you."

The first time he had said it, it had caused her chest to wince, but Eve was now unsure whether he expected her to beg on her knees or something. How many times would he say the same thing? It was as if he was trying to drive something home, as if he was trying to gather some other response from her. Eve had nothing else she could tell him. She had said what she knew to be true. If he did not want to tutor her anymore, then there was little she could or would do about it.

"Okay," Eve ceded, lifting from the wall and heading back into the classroom.

"What? Where're you going?" Remus questioned, impulsively following her. "Why're you walking away?"

"You said you don't want to tutor me anymore," Eve reminded him, collecting the stuff that she had laid out on the table to sort them into her bag. "That's fine."

"That's it!?" Remus blurted, coming to stand behind her. He held his hands out to the side and leaned forward. "That's it!? You have nothing to say? At all!? That's all you're going to say?"

"Like what, Remus?" Eve sighed, turning back around to face him. She looked up at him with a slight crease carved into her forehead. "I have nothing to say. I didn't do anything."

"But you did."

"If that's what you believe."

"I do! That is precisely what I believe! I believe Lily! She's my friend, and my friend was in the Hospital Wing because of you, because you set her on fire."

"I did not set anyone on fire—"

"YES, YOU DID," he shouted at her. Eve shrunk away so that the backs of her legs were met with the table. Her eyes dropped to his chest, glassy and blank, while her face paled slightly. The sudden loftiness of his speech brought everything inside her to a slow halt— breath, thoughts, movement.

This was not Remus Lupin. Eve thought. Or, at least, he was not supposed to be that.

"STOP LYING!" Remus continued, mindlessly stepping forward to close the distance that she had just attempted to put between them. "Why are you still lying? Everyone knows it was you. Just admit it!" Eve still said nothing. "Respond! Say something, anything! Why aren't you talking? Just talk!" It was only when his words began to be tinted with plea that she could find her voice.

"It wasn't me," she responded in a subdued tone. "It wasn't."

"How're you able to do that?"

"Do what?"

"LIE!" This time, Eve did not flinch. Remus was tormented with anguish. He was not there to play King and tyrannize her. "I mean, really, you don't see how fucked this all is?"

"This was hopeless," she said, her voice falling even lower. "I told you that it was."

"What? What's that have to do with anything?" Remus asked, his neck bending forward. "Don't change the subject, don't try and trick me again. Don't do that."

"No," Eve added quickly, shaking her head just as fast. "No, I told you to leave, but you didn't."

"When did you say that!?"

"In October, from the start."

"So, this is my fault?" Remus heightened, pointing to himself. "It's my fault because I helped you? It's my fault for trusting you?"

"You don't trust me. You never did."

"I did trust you!"

"No," Eve rebutted. "You trust your friends."

"I do."

"And you'll believe them before you ever believe me."

"I'll have you know— I did start to think we were friends, somewhere along the way," Remus admitted, but Eve could only think that their two definitions of friendship must be from entirely different dictionaries. The wizard before her had been more of a freelance advisor than he had been a friend. Surely, he had grasped as much, too.

"We were never friends."

"Yeah, cheers, I can see that now." Remus wove his hands into his hair and pulled, shaking his head for the millionth time. "Why'd you do it?"

"I didn't do anything."

"STOP LYING, EVE!" He took a sharp breath. "Please, just stop."

He scanned her face— but he could not see the things that could not be easily seen. What Remus could make out was a blank face and a person unable — unwilling — to speak. To Remus, it only read as someone who could not be bothered for a second longer to hear him out. The belief that Eve was ignoring him, ignoring Lily, only pushed him further to the edge.

"I'll also have you know, you're done. I don't know what you, Gamp, and Selwyn think's going to happen, but you're not walking from this. Not one of you. Celebrate all you want, but the aurors are coming, and you'll be tried by the Wizengamot. I'm sure when you're under veritaserum— we'll all know what you did. So, keep lying all you want. You only have so much time to keep doing it."

Now, sure, Eve had begun to disengage from everything around her. She knew how to play safely. So, she was silent, rooted to the spot without speech. She was not meant to waver or to fall out of line. Guilty or not, she was not meant to speak. Anything she said or did could be used against her, but there was an inch of her that remained anchored, hooking onto Remus' admission. It threw her over a bridge. This enduring inch — which had always been there, hidden from even her — was larger and grander than anything else. It came and would always come before anything and everything else. It could not be conquered. It could not be defeated, and it most certainly could not be destroyed.

"I do not talk to aurors," Eve responded sternly, her eyes narrowing on his chest.

"Well," Remus snorted dismissively. "You won't have the bloody choice. They'll make you talk whether you want to or not."

"How do you know that?"

"McKinnon's entire family's aurors. She's written a letter. They love Lily, so they'll see to it that you three get what you deserve."

McKinnon, Eve repeated in her head. M-c-K-i-n-n-o-n, she spelled out every syllable, every letter.

"I didn't do anything," she asserted as that one enduring inch took flight inside her. Eve finally lifted her stare to him. "I wasn't able to."

"No?"

"No, I was extremely drunk. I don't remember anything."

Why was she telling Remus? Because she would be made to recite much the same story, but without her own contingency measures in place to control what it was being said. She did not have any reason to fight or beg Remus when it had solely been a matter of him not wanting to tutor her. To that, she could surrender. But, no, this was an entirely different story. British aurors? British soldiers. They would come and they would get more than they had bargained for. They would find out things that they did not need to ever know of. Eve did not know how well Remus knew the McKinnon witch, but she could assume that he had to be somewhat close to her to be able to have information that no one else had. Not even her— and she was the one who was about to have her head on a chopping block.

"I don't remember anything. I'm telling the truth, Remus."

Remus opened then closed his mouth, struggling to find the right words. He crossed his arms over his chest, but his body still slumped. It was not a straight posture or as closed off as it should have been.

"Eve," he began in a somewhat strained voice. "If you had just told me the bloody truth. If you had come to me when it had happened, if you had just fucking owned up to it— I would have heard you out, you know?"

"You would still think I'm a terrible person."

"Maybe," he agreed. "Maybe, I would have, yeah. I guess we'll never know, though, because you continue on lying, manipulating, and tricking me, and that definitely makes me think you're a wretched person."

"I'm not," she insisted, her eyes bright with a fever that ripped through her. It was the most significant display of choked emotion he had seen from her since the panic before their journey to the lake. "I'm not doing any of that. Please, listen to me."

Except, her own control measures would do little to save her. The world of half truths only went so far and, to Remus, it sounded more like she was trying to stop him from abandoning her than it was a fight for survival. She knew that. She knew he could not grasp that, while Eve did need his help, she did not need him as desperately as she needed to keep a secret. Sure, he was nice to have around, and yeah, she wasn't particularly thrilled that he was knocking off, but she could understand why. She had been nothing more than the help, and him helping her had always been conditional. Except, now, it was no longer just him, and she would not passively sit by and allow them to send her to the gallows. She would crawl and climb her way out of whatever hole she had fallen into, and she would do it in front of all of Scotland if she had to.

"But I don't," Remus told her. "I don't believe you at all. You lied to me, you sat there," he pointed to the seat right behind Eve, "and pretended to care. Meanwhile, one of my best friends was in the Hospital Wing, and you were the one who put her there. You know this."

"But no, I didn't. I really didn't."

"I don't believe you. I don't believe a single word that comes out of your mouth. I don't."

"I did not hurt her. I was too drunk, I was— I blacked out!"

"You blacked out?" Remus repeated scornfully.

"Yes!"

"I don't believe you." An odd sound comprised of a laugh and an frustrated huff escaped him. "You expect me to believe that you, of all people, blacked out?"

Eve sighed. Then, her shoulders sank, and her heart dropped to her stomach. If she had a white flag to wave, she would have been waving it right then and there. But no matter what she said— Remus would not change his mind. It was hopeless. All of this had always been hopeless. Eve was not one to cry, but the tightness in her throat felt as if that's where she was headed. No, she wasn't sad— she was fenced in and clamoring. If Remus would not listen to her, who would?

"Okay."

"Why don't you just tell the truth?" Remus asked. "Just tell me the truth."

What does he want? Eve griped internally. What was he still doing there? He did not want to tutor her, he did not believe anything she said, and he had all but applauded that he could not wait for the day the aurors came for her. Remus Lupin had made his point.

"I am, but you don't believe me," she pointed out, returning the words he had just dealt her.

"Because you're fucking lying."

"I am not."

"You are!"

"Remus, just go."

He paused. The frenzied animation that had ping-ponged his gestures and words fizzled out. He began to pinch and rub at his bottom lip, openly staring at the witch in front of him. Eve had not relented her own stare, both of them meeting one another head-on.

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Merlin, Remus," Eve cursed under her breath.

"You could've killed her, you know? How can you live with yourself knowing you almost killed someone? Lily could've died. Do you not think about that? Or are you okay with killing someone?" Remus withstood, grappling with a reality that had been only inches from them at one point.

"No," Eve rushed. "I would've known. She wasn't going to die. Of cour—"

"WHAT!?" Remus spat out.

Eve paled, eyes protruding as she realized what she had just said. A sudden wave of nausea hit her. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it, frantically searching Remus' stare for an excuse. It had been an impulse. A ridiculous, reckless one. Eve had already felt constrained, as if the walls were coming down on her, but now everything around her begun to spin, too, at maximum speed. It was not the carnival she had asked to attend.

"How could you possibly know that?" He leaned back, his mouth left to hang open. This was as close as anyone had gotten. While she had not confessed that she had been there, she had clearly stated that she knew— she knew. It was not a thought or a guess, this was something she knew to be true. Eve had been there. "How could you know? You were involved— you were a part of this, weren't you? That's how you know."

But this is what he had truly been looking for: a confirmation. Any doubts were officially squashed. Any lingering conflicts were resolved. Now, Remus could walk away.

"Wait," she rasped.

"Go to hell, Kavanagh," he forced stiffly, turning and exiting the room before she could so much as attempt to squirm her way back into his good graces.

Eve's hand came down onto the table, her eyes on the floor as she tried to steady herself.

She had two options: run away or run right at it.

It took a decent moment to recollect herself, but the dimming light in the corridor told her she had to make haste. There was no guarantee she would see tomorrow. Not anymore.

She walked out of that room, but did not make way for the dungeons to collect her things. Perversely, she began to frantically look up and down, back and forth in a dizzying motion. Her nose was to the grindstone, but she would haul over the coals no matter how badly they burned her fingers. Something inside her wanted — needed — a way out. It did not want to hide, disappear. It wanted to be redeemed, absolved. She did not want this staining her, placated onto her back and name for the rest of history. When they remembered the Kavanaghs, it would not be because of this. Absolutely not. Whatever Melisende Gamp had done was hers to deal with, and hers alone. Eve Kavanagh would not put herself or her family in this position. They would not be peons of an English will.

And, also, fuck Melisende Gamp.

"I need Sykes," she said to everyone and anyone who passed her. "Has anyone seen Sykes? I'm looking for Sykes."

"Aoife?"

The sudden name shift caught her attention, forcing her to turn to it.

"Art."

Her cousin, Art, was with Lenna Skidd and Niger Seacole making their way up a staircase to the sixth floor. He paused on one of the last steps as Eve had just been set to make her way down in the opposite direction. She stepped forward, grabbing him by his forearm, forcing him to descend the stairs so that no one could hear them.

"Have you seen Sykes or Black, Regulus? Where's Sykes?" Eve questioned in Irish. Art blinked, listening intently, then threw his head back at his friends to indicate that he would be held back. They continued their hike without a second thought.

"Black's at the pitch, I think," he responded in English. "Manfred just left us for practice. Why? What's wrong?"

Of course, Eve Kavanagh had grown up in the world of half truths, but this was family, and with family there was a completely different rulebook.

"I got mixed up with something terrible," Eve replied hastily, keeping to Irish. "They're sending soldiers. I'll have to speak with British soldiers." Art scrunched his nose as a grimace pulled the corners of his mouth down.

"Tell them to fuck off," he said, continuing in English. "You can't be doing that. British aurors, Aoife?"

"I know," Eve assured him. "I know. I've to come up with something quick. Gamp dragged me into a mess that I shouldn't have been involved in the first place."

"Got messed up in English business, did you?" Eve only nodded once, scanning the students passing around them in search for the person she had really been looking for. "Can Uncle Duncan do something? I doubt he'll be thrilled to hear of the aurors. Nasty thing, that is. They don't treat us well, Aoife. Too dangerous, you can't be doing that."

"I'm well aware, Art," Eve acknowledged with a quick sigh. Didn't she know? She knew better than her cousin what awaited her. It would be her end. She would be chained to a rock and sent to die at the bottom of the Irish Sea alongside their ancestors. No, fuck that. "I would send word, but I don't think I have time. I don't know much..." She spun around to look at a group of students coming out of a corridor. Too young. "What if they're on their way right now?"

"Dumbledore," Art offered. "He'll put a foot in it."

"You think?"

"Make him."

They both knew what that meant, it didn't need any further explanation.

"Okay," Eve agreed, nodding. "How— I need to find someone in charge. I don't know how to get to the Headmaster. I know where his office is, but I don't remember the password. I wasn't paying attention last time I was there."

This time, it was Art who joined her in searching the spaces around them. He placed a hand on her shoulder, standing behind her as he bit down on his tongue and began to mull over who they could speak to— and where that person would be.

"Library's probably our best bet right now," Art suggested.

"Sawbridge said you were looking for Sykes."

The intruder's voice came from the exact direction Art had just been headed in. Both Slytherins turned to the Ravenclaw wizard standing a couple of steps above them.

"Maybe," Eve answered, eyeing him up and down.

"What do you need Sykes for?"

"None of your business," Art voiced for Eve. Mundungus Fletcher only spared him a brief glance before returning to Eve. He tilted his head and cocked a brow, requesting her to further articulate.

"Why? Do you know where Sykes is?" Eve asked.

Yes, Mundungus Fletcher knew exactly where Alexander Sykes was, and he was no where on school grounds. Not that the Slytherin wizard in question was doing anything of great importance, but Mundungus knew him to have a standing appointment at bar-stool number four at the Hog's Head every Friday evening. Eve Kavanagh would be running around the entire castle looking for a ghost. And, besides, he was a Ravenclaw. Curiosity was the name of the game.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"No," he lied. "What do you need him for?"

"I need his help."

"Help with what?"

"What's it to you?" Art butted in.

"I know it's hard for you Snakes to believe this, but I'm actually here to offer my help," the Ravenclaw fabricated easily.

"You wouldn't be able to—"

"Try me," Mundungus interrupted the Slytherin wizard. "Kavanagh, what do you need Sykes for?"

"I need — I think — to speak with the Headmaster."

Mundungus' eyes narrowed on the witch's lips. The unprecedented shift in her speech did not gloss over him, but he waved it off for now— it was the least of concerns how and why Eve Kavanagh flip-flopped between accents. Maybe, it had something to do with fledgling warden standing behind her. Besides, Mundungus himself wanted to ask her why— to interrogate her on other matters, but he also knew that if he was the one to escort her, he would come to find out exactly why in full detail. He could maneuver it just right so that he, too, was present in whatever it was that was blistering the witch.

"I can take you to Dumbledore."

"You can?"

"Yeah," he snorted. "Of course."

"Okay," Eve said, nodding once. She placed out a hand, indicating for him to lead.

"I'll be coming, too," Art informed them. Mundungus turned with the same lifted brow as before.

"Why?"

"Family matter," was all Art disclosed. "We look out for one another."

"Seriously? Why? Because I'm English?" Mundungus quizzed, his eyes narrowing on the Slytherin's apprehensive face. "This isn't the muggle world. You know that, right?"

"Don't mean you treat us right," Art bit back. "Don't treat anyone right."

"How old are you, again?"

"Can you take us or not?" Eve intervened.

"Fine, whatever," Mundungus exasperated.

The Ravenclaw paved their way through the castle. Any and all onlookers eyed them curiously— a Ravenclaw halfblood with two Slytherin purebloods. But only one of the three would ever realize, for the witch was completely divorced from her surroundings, engaged to a pursuit. Her cousin, who had as much information as Mundungus, would oversee the ceremony and ensure that no one stood, he would force them to forever hold their peace for as long as Eve needed that peace to be held.

The unquestioning yet blind love that came with sharing blood.

"Dumbledore," Mundungus greeted as he entered the Headmaster's office with the two Slytherins behind him. "I've come with company. Kavanagh said she needed to speak with you. And, well, MacMorough doesn't trust us English to do anything right, apparently."

The Headmaster peered up over that day's edition of the Daily Prophet. His eyes narrowed on the witch that stepped past Mundungus and, with zero reservation, nearly ran straight up to his desk. Within a blink of an eye, there was only a plank of wood that stood between them.

"Gamp and Selwyn attacked Evans— they did it!"

Eve never did see the point of sprinkling sugar on top of strawberries. If the strawberries were good, they did not need sugar. Behind her, Art's eyes widened and Mundungus choked on his own spit, quickly covering it up with a cough. The Slytherin wizard and the Ravenclaw both glanced at one another, sharing a look. A look that stated they both knew what was happening: another bloody coup.

Hogwarts was becoming rife with political uprisings.

"Don't treat nobody right," Art repeated pointedly to Mundungus, shrugging.

"Are you sure, Miss Kavanagh?" Dumbledore asked. "How do you know?"

"I just do. I don't remember anything, but they did it. They told me."

"Are you saying you were hexed, too, Miss Kavanagh?" Dumbledore examined, but Eve shook her head. She had said exactly what she had meant to say.

"Then, how are you so sure?"

"They congratulated me when we left, last time I was here," Eve explained.

Any empty promises she had once made to him took a rain-check. Yes, she should have gone back to him and told him right away, but she had held back because it had not been her business. She was supposed to have escaped blame, incarceration of any sort. Eve's original plan had been to wear a blindfold and pretend as if none of it was true, as if she hadn't a clue. Given the impending doom, though, that was no longer a possibility. It was time to lay out all the cards.

"I didn't know anything."

Dumbledore's chin lifted. So, he had been correct in his final assumption. Eve Kavanagh had been there, but, at the same time, she had not been. It was how she had made him question his own judgement with such craftiness. Remarkably, and despite common belief, it was possible for both Eve Kavanagh and Lily Evans to be telling the truth.

"And what made you come here today to tell me?"

"I refuse to speak with the aurors. I certainly can't be expected to do such a thing."

"Who said you would have to speak with the aurors?"

"Lupin told me," she answered quickly. "That McKinnon witch— her family."

"McKinnon?" Art replayed on his own lips, grimacing, but the Headmaster's attention was solely on the Slytherin witch bent over his table with both her palms planted on the desk.

Now, whatever trophy Marlene McKinnon had been hoping to win was nothing more than dust. The Kavanaghs knew. And not one, but two.

Bootlicker, Art thought to himself, his chin lowering into his neck as he watched his cousin and their Headmaster.

Dumbledore and Mundungus looked at one another, sharing a knowing glance. They stood on edge, debating whether the witch had been frightened into confessing. Fear would do nothing but invalidate a testimony. Except, there was a way to circumvent it, and Albus Dumbledore was in no position to let the fine print stop him from battering down this wall, again.

"We would need proof if we wish to continue," Dumbledore informed her, hesitant yet confident. "It seems you have been threatened into coming here. Your words alone will not suffice."

So, how far was she willing to go?

A fuck ton, all the way, straight to the wolves— as the Headmaster and everyone else in that office would come to learn.

"What kind of proof?" Eve inquired, lifting herself off the desk to straighten her posture. Dumbledore sat back in his seat and combed a hand over his bearded chin.

"A memory would do."

"But I remember nothing."

"If memory was only remembering," Dumbledore riddled. "The pensieve would be able to deduce what it is that you saw, at the very least. And, Miss Kavanagh, that is only if you did see something."

"I must have," Eve said.

"For it to be of any use, you would have to permit me to see it," he warned her, standing up and making his way around the desk to approach her.

Eve paused, ravaging her thoughts. Would she be willing to let one person in? Could she take the risk? How big of a risk was it? She did a once over of the wizard before her. Who was he? She realized she knew nothing of their Headmaster, not really. He was more of a legend than a real person— at least, to her.

Make him, her cousin's words sung back at her.

"And, seeing as you don't remember, you could very well be implicit in the events," he continued, observing every inch of her speculative expression.

Yeah, right, Eve wanted to roll her eyes. There was a number of harrowing details about that night and what followed, but if there was one thing she did know, it was that the fire had not come from her wand. She had been under the influence of Dawdle Draught— it was the one fact she had. She knew that she could not perform a spell to save her life while inebriated with the sedative. It shut down all and any of her magical capabilities— it's how it kept the static sound out of her head. The real point of concern was what had she been doing there, then, if she hadn't even been able to lift a wand.

"Swear to me, whatever you see, whatever it is, it will never reach another's ears. No one will know what they do not need to know," Eve demanded, biting the bullet. They stared at one another, and Art's chin lifted up. All of them remained with halted breaths, not making a sound as they waited for their Headmaster to either laugh in her face or drop to his knees. But Albus Dumbledore, as he scavenged the witch's eyes, did not laugh nor drop to his knees. He did, however, cock his head ever so slightly.

"You have my word."

"Swear it," Eve repeated. Dumbledore knew better than to accept such a demand, but he also knew he was so close to being somewhere. If he wanted to pass the border, if he wanted to cross, he would have to give in.

"I swear it."

"No, swear it," Eve adjusted her tone to accent the word, jutting her hand out into a straight line towards him.

Did — should, could — a student possess enough power to demand not only a Headmaster but Albus Dumbledore to undergo an Unbreakable Vow? No, of course not. It would threaten his reputation, his standing. At the same time, however, he could not say that it was the first time he was hearing those exact words come out of a Kavanagh's mouth. Matter of fact, it had not just been the Kavanaghs. The O'Neills and their children loved to do just the same. Had it been anyone else, Dumbledore would have had a word or two to say about it, but he was not the least bit surprised that this was the only condition put forth by the witch. He knew better than any other in that castle that the Irish had their secrets, and they did not go about sharing them with just anyone.

And they loved their secrets because they were worth hiding.

A glimmer twinkled in his eyes.

It was no longer a question of what had happened to Lily Evans. Albus Dumbledore wanted to know what else it was that Eve Kavanagh knew that had her brazenly writing an eternal contract. He would be permitted into her head as long as he swore his fealty and infinite silence. Why?

He knew there had to be a reason. A damn good one, too.

Dumbledore held out his hand, wrapping it around the witch's wrist.

"Fletcher, if you would be so kind," Dumbledore requested, Eve's grip tightening around his wrist.

"You can't be serious," Mundungus said.

"What else would he be?" Art flung at him. "Well, go on— do it."

"Merlin," the Ravenclaw muttered under his breath.

He stepped forward, standing between the two of them. It did not happen immediately, his eyes darted between the two of them. Albus Dumbledore wore a small smile that twisted a corner of his mouth upward, and Eve Kavanagh was staring straight at their Headmaster's chest. She was miniature compared to him, but the power she managed to uphold was unprecedented. This was not the same witch he had found collapsed on the bathroom floor. Mundungus blinked, his lips slightly ajar. It took him a second to understand the scope of what he had just been asked to do. Who the fuck was Eve Kavanagh, exactly? But he shook his head and pushed his wand forward from the confines of his robes.

Mundungus placed the tip of his wand onto their intertwined hands and issued the spell. A bright white light drew out from its end, wrapping around their skin and disappearing into their sleeves. It slowly began to fade, and, as if they had been slapped by a searing metal wire, it left behind a scar that was much the same color as the light had been.

Despite his own reservations, the Ravenclaw had performed the spell perfectly. He released a breath he had not realized he'd been keeping, taking a step back.

What the fuck had he just done?

But no one, not a single soul in that room thought to question it— any of it.

"Now what?" Eve asked the Headmaster.

"Now, we look for the memory."

The two of them walked over to the pensieve, leaving the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw wizard behind them. It was them and no one else sent on a quest to reach forth and procure what had remained hidden for too long.

What did happen that night, the night of the greatest party that Hogwarts had ever had?

It turned out that the only person who would ever know in its entirety — who would ever know its full glory — was Albus Dumbledore.

"How was it?" Art asked, finally taking to conversing in Irish despite his penchant for the English tongue. Eve collapsed into a chair, washed-out and weary as she watched Dumbledore pour the contents of her brain into the bowl. "Did you find it?"

"I think so," Eve responded in Irish.

"Seriously?" Mundungus questioned. He had taken to standing against a wall, eyeing the side of the witch's face suspiciously. But only Art turned to look at him, scowling briefly before returning his attention to his cousin.

"It's good you made him swear," Art continued in Irish. "Good for all of us— Uncle Duncan'll be happy to know that."

"If he ever finds out," Eve mumbled.

"What makes you think he won't?"

"We don't need to involve him in this, Art."

"No, but the McKinnons—"

"The McKinnons are British soldiers," Eve cut him off, staring him straight in the eye. "They tricked us." Art nodded once to convey that he understood.

They sat and stood in silence, all three of them, watching and eyeing Dumbledore's bent body— face disappeared into the liquid of what had once been hers.

"So?" Eve posed when Dumbledore lifted up and straightened his body, but he did not turn to look at them right away. His eyes were firm on the pensieve.

Albus Dumbledore, as it turned out, had not undergone an Unbreakable Vow for nothing. The ink that would forever stain his hand was not for nothing. What he had just discovered, what he had just seen, what he had just learned, was worth every and any kind of concession. Finally, he stepped towards the center of the office to look at the witch— no, to look at the banshee.

Yes, Albus Dumbledore found the Kavanagh banshee.

And he could not tell anyone. He could do absolutely nothing.

Clever, Miss Kavanagh.

Even he would admit that he could have never put this one together on his own. Eve Kavanagh had done a remarkable job of hiding her condition. A severe one, too. For a banshee was not a werewolf, they were not kelpies, or veelas. Apart from lethal, they were impulsive, sporadic, elusive. A ticking time bomb of which very little was truly known.

Except, Albus Dumbledore had, in his office, a real banshee sitting only mere feet away from him.

Incredible.

"You were rather inebriated, dear," Dumbledore began, holding back any and all hints of amazement. "You were at the wrong place at the wrong time."

...

"What is she doing here?" Melisende shrieked as she pulled back the curtains of Eve's bed. Eve's head was leaning against her pillow, her knees pulled to her chest as she tried to close her eyes and count her breaths. The Dawdle Draught she had just taken was making its way through her body, countering the effects of the crystal, dancing with that of the liquor. It would only be a matter of time before the night ended.

"Has she been here the whole time?" Rosalia asked, looking at Melisende with wide eyes. Melisende's teeth bared as she put her hands on Eve's face, forcing it up to look at her.

"What do you know? What did you hear!?" But Eve hadn't heard much of anything at all, so she just blinked, forcing a weak smile.

"We can't go, Meli—"

"What did you hear, Kavanagh!?" Melisende spat into Eve's face.

"Hear what?" Eve breathed heavily, a sluggish hand attempting to remove Melisende's grip on her.

"What do we do?" Rosalia rushed, looking at Melisende, who pursed her lips. Her eyes squinted, eyeing Eve.

"You want to come with us? Huh, Eve?" Melisende asked, a beguiling tone replacing the accusative one.

"Melisende!" Rosalia hissed.

"Go where?" Eve asked, not knowing who of the two was speaking. It was all just a jumble— the words, the faces, the voices.

"For a walk, do you want to go for a walk with us?"

"But we're not—"

"Sh," Melisende cut off Rosalia. "Hm, Eve?"

"Sure," Eve conceded, shrugging. For Eve had done a lot of a lot, and all she could think was how lovely these two witches were for inviting her to join them for a walk. They had barely spoken since the beginning of term— it would be nice to catch up. Why not?

...

"But did I do anything?" Eve asked. She was sure that under the effects of Dawdle Draught, she would not be so much as capable of floating a feather, but she had to know, she had to confirm just how well she knew herself.

"While that should be a crime in and of itself," Dumbledore replied solemnly. "No, you did nothing."

Eve nodded once. She did not care if Albus Dumbledore thought her an incapable scum, nothing but a drunk bystander. The point remained— she had done nothing. Eve had become accustomed to allowing bad things to happen to good people. If she didn't, she'd be utterly guilt-ridden all the time. Again, survival. So, it was not beyond her to conclude that she was innocent of this, too. No matter what anyone else thought, Eve could and would absolve herself of it all. Her hands were clean enough.

"I'm afraid, however, I have no choice but to expel Miss Gamp."

"WHAT!?" Mundungus bursted out, looking at Eve. "What!?"

Had Eve Kavanagh singlehandedly succeeded in expelling Melisende Gamp? Mundungus Fletcher knew the stories and the horrors better than anyone. He had brought them to Albus Dumbledore, who had only sighed and said nothing could be done unless the victims themselves stepped forward. Except, Melisende Gamp had terrorized everyone into keeping their mouths shut. No one spoke up, no one had, and no one ever would.

Well, until now.

His jaw dropped open.

"And Selwyn?" Eve inquired.

"It seems Selwyn, too, was kept in the dark about what would occur, truly occur." Albus Dumbledore's eyes lifted to the ceiling, recalling what he had just seen. "She will, however, serve a a month of detention with Professor McGonagall. You, too, Miss Kavanagh will serve two detentions— one for consumption of prohibited substances, another for evading curfew."

"Fine," Eve agreed easily.

"How was Selwyn left in the dark?" Mundungus asked, his face twisted.

...

"Are you sure she's going to be there?" Rosalia squeaked as she jumped up and down while they made their way around the castle.

Eve had somehow been led up all the way to the fifth floor, trailing behind the other two witches who were running through the halls. The cocktail in her veins was reaching a peak, and her limbs had begun to shiver and shake. A nausea had settled everywhere from her head down to her stomach. It was cold, too cold. She could not feel her heart, her skin, her feet on the ground. Every step was complete misery, she felt as if her legs were simultaneously made of concrete and jelly. It was impossible to go on.

"Could we sit?" Eve asked, but her words were no more than a pin drop. The other two were enmeshed in their own frolic.

"Positive," Melisende told Rosalia.

"I really need to sit," Eve rasped.

"I can't wait to pimple-jinx her pretty little face," Rosalia cooed, grinning. "I'm sure Potter'll love to wake up to that in the morning."

"Oh, won't he?" Melisende drawled, smirking. "He'll be burning up, for sure."

Rosalia laughed and swatted playfully at the witch.

...

"Gamp organized a hunt by herself?" Mundungus sounded out, glancing carefully at the Headmaster. Both knew that there had to be something else, something bigger that would have driven Melisende Gamp to the absolute edge of power. To almost kill, to taste death.

And how many others were there that would do, or attempt, the same before the end of the year?

"Do you wish to see the memory, Miss Kavanagh?"

"No," Eve answered promptly. She had what she wanted, she did not need the nitty-gritty, too.

"Very well, if that's all, then I will move forward with Melisende Gamp's immediate expulsion."

"And what of this business with the aurors?" Art asked as Eve stood up, standing by his side. His chest was puffed out, and his chin was held too high for someone who was no taller than 5'7". At least, Mundungus found it a tad too much.

"There'll be no need for that. I'll see to it personally," Dumbledore promised the witch, the banshee, who had turned to await his response. Eve nodded curtly and then exited the office.

In the office, Dumbledore remained with Mundungus. The Ravenclaw wizard was still shellshocked into place, looking between the pensieve and the Headmaster over and over again.

"You were there," Dumbledore broke their silence.

"What?"

"You found Miss Kavanagh in the corridor that morning," Dumbledore filled him in as if he, too, had forgotten. Mundungus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Miss Gamp fired a simple pyro-charm on Miss Evans— after that it seems Miss Kavanagh became unconscious. The next memory of hers is of you. If I recall correctly, it was still dark when you found one another."

Mundungus grimaced as he realized that Eve had given Dumbledore far more than she needed to. Of course, no one should have expected the witch who survived on sedative to be a master of memory recollection, either. He closed his eyes.

"I—"

"What happened, Mundungus?"

"I heard Bones screaming for help while I was on my way back from… I had been with Gideon at the Hog's Head, as you'd told me— it was you who sent me, if you remember." Dumbledore did not make a motion, but his silence indicated that he knew very well what he had made Mundungus do. "I was making my way back to Ravenclaw tower, and I heard Bones screaming, but when I— I got to the corridor and the first thing I saw… I saw Bones over a body at the other end, but I also found Kavanagh on the ground, too, in an alcove."

"You did not think to wait for me?" Dumbledore questioned.

"I didn't— I had to help Kavanagh," Mundungus stated. "She didn't... With this thing, waiting is dangerous. I took her to a bathroom. I knew what to do. If I needed help, if she needed help— I would've said something, but I knew I could handle it. I didn't want anyone to find out about it, about her."

"You were protecting the witch."

"Well, no—"

"She could have very well been at fault for what happened to Miss Evans, you did not think of that?" Dumbledore probed, but Mundungus only snorted in response. They both knew that Eve Kavanagh could not so much as walk on her own two legs, much less perform a spell. Even if she had been able to conjure anything, Lily Evans had been sober— a simple shield or any counterattack would have been enough to stop Eve. It would have been the most pathetic duel in the history of duels. "You know, Miss Kavanagh has her reasons for partaking in such activity, as disturbing as it may be."

"She's going to get herself killed."

"Maybe," Dumbledore hummed. "Maybe, but she may also be doing us a great favor."

"What fu—"

"It's curious, though, how much you care for her."

"I don't care about Kavanagh," he answered easily and honestly. "I saw what that thing — that poison — did to my family. I have no family because of it. I won't… I can't sit back and let it take someone else. I hate whoever invented it. You know that!"

"Hm," Dumbledore continued, plucking at the hairs of his peppered brows.

"I see her, and I see my mum, my sister," he added with a depleted sigh. "I would do it for anyone, not just her."

"Apart from her habits, what are your opinions of Miss Kavanagh?" Mundungus was, once again, left with an open mouth. It slowly came to close, and he bent his neck forward, staring wickedly at his Headmaster.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head slowly.

"No?"

"Any opinion I have of Miss Kavanagh is not a good one," Mundungus clarified disdainfully. "You can't possibly be thinking of—"

"Do you think she would?"

"No," Mundungus spat out. "She just chopped off Gamp's and Sewlyn's heads to save her own sorry arse— what makes you think she'll fight for us? She's a bloody addict, too! You can't trust an addict— you know that, I know that! Bloody hell. An addict is the last thing we need." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Sykes is already one too many."

"She has her reasons," Dumbledore repeated under his breath, but he knew those reasons could never reach another's ears. No one would ever understand just why and how Eve Kavanagh had, all of a sudden, become an acute interest to Albus Dumbledore. "Keep a close eye on her, will you, Fletcher?"

"It seems that I already bloody do," he huffed.

Albus Dumbledore had a banshee, and he had been asked to sit on his own two hands despite it.

Maybe.

"Miss Melisende Gamp, you are hereby immediately expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

A random school elf appeared out of thin air as the Slytherin witch made her way from the library to the Great Hall for dinner. Melisende's face scrunched, but she brushed off the intrusion and marched forward. It continued to trail her, reaching out to grab her by the wrist.

"YOU VERMIN! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME!" Melisende bellowed, ripping her hand away from the elf and then throwing the same hand back down to strike it across its face. The school elf stumbled to the side, clasping its hands to its own cheek.

"Miss Melisende Gamp, you are hereby immediately expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Witchery," the school elf repeated, coming back into formation. She and it were left to look at one another, and for a second, Melisende thought she would actually entertain it— except, it was a school elf, and one toss with the tip of her heels would have it flying out the window and into a grave.

"Fuck off, you swine," she scowled, shaking her head and turning back around. As she did, however, she spotted Professor McGonagall headed straight towards her. Any thoughts of a certain Gryffindor — cough, James Potter, cough — having hexed the school elf to prank her vanished. Melisende stood frozen in place, but before she could turn in the opposite direction and run, she had been seized. The exiled Slytherin was swooped up into McGonagall's clutches, the school elf to their side.

"What!? NO!" Melisende shrieked, eyes widening. "Have you gone mad!? I've done nothing! Professor, my father'll have your head for this!"

"I'd like to see him try, Gamp," McGonagall challenged coldly, eyes firmly placed ahead.

"What're you doing!? What's going on!? What's all this about!?"

"You're to leave the castle and the castle grounds at once," McGonagall asserted. "You are no longer welcome here." Melisende's eyes darted in every direction they could.

"On what terms?"

"You've been identified as the perpetrator of Miss Evans' attack."

"Says who!?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

"With what proof!?"

Enlightened with what exactly was happening, Melisende halted in place. She yanked away from her professor, pushing the older witch back as she took steps to put distance between them. Her wand was hidden in her palm, aligned perfectly with her middle finger. A dark, cloudy gaze erupted in her black, beady eyes, but Professor McGonagall remained staunch.

"A memory."

"Who's memory?" Melisende, with enough space between them, lifted the hand holding her wand and pointed it directly at her professor. It would be the first time in McGonagall's entire career that a student had dared to do such a thing. Even so, she would not relent. Professor McGongall was not and would never be scared of the likes of Melisende Gamp. "I want to see it. Let the accused point to its accuser, if so."

"It was not the accuser's."

Five words.

It had only been five words.

And yet, Melisende Gamp knew what she had always known. The same thing she had told Eoin Mulciber, the inkling that had never been just an inkling but a full truth. She knew it was not Lily Evans, and despite what anyone else thought, the only real fault to her plan had always been one thing and one thing only. No, it was not that she fucked up the memory loss hex. No, it was not that Poppy Pomfrey would actually prove herself useful as a healer and salvage Lily's memory. It was that her plan had fallen through the cracks at its very seams, for the seams had been weak from the very start.

Once upon a time, she had thought that she had been proven wrong— but Melisende was never wrong.

She should've known better.

Melisende breathed fire; she breathed bile. Her vision went as black as her eyes, and the next words out of her mouth were not words at all but a "STUPEFY!" sent at Professor McGonagall who, while keenly aware of the wand directed at her, had never once thought that something would come of it. Not under those circumstances, in that context. Before McGonagall could recover, Melisende had ripped and run through those halls in search of what — who — was now nothing more than her sworn enemy.

"KAVANAGH!"

The name blitzed through the whole castle. Melisende tore through those corridors, flying down the stairs, making way for the Great Hall with her wand pointed forward. She blindly hexed anyone and everyone who dared cross her path, all of them innocent, not having a clue that Melisende Gamp had just been expelled.

Now, this would be the greatest party Hogwarts had ever seen.

"KAVANGH!"

The name broke the Great Hall. It was not just a shout, it vibrated into the foundation, into the walls, and caused the ground beneath them to quiver. The acid that leaked out of Melisende's mouth dropped to the floor and burned right through the stone. There was not a single soul among them that had not heard. Before anyone could so much as blink, Melisende had located Eve. Her hand was in her hair. She clutched at the thin ponytail, pulling the witch up and out of her seat, and dragged her across the entire aisle until she was thrown to the ground just outside the Great Hall. Behind them, a number of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws — the two Houses seated directly in front of the entrance — had crowded behind the two witches.

But to Melisende and Eve— it was only the two of them now.

Everything had happened too quickly. By the time her surname had registered, the searing pain had already ripped through her skull, and she was being hauled out of the Great Hall's warmth into the corridor. She was now on the floor. The ache that had been in her head spread out from her tailbone and the elbow that had smashed into the ground. Melisende had her wand pointed directly at her, and Eve could not so much as move without being threatened with a bone breaking hex.

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Except, Eve, and despite being in a complete rush to do so, knew exactly what she had done. Not at any point would she ever regret doing any of it. Would she have done it if it had not been for the threat of the aurors? Would she have done it if she was not a banshee? Of course not, Eve was no martyr. Eve's loyalties lied precisely where they had been so clearly exhibited. Mundungus Fletcher, Albus Dumbledore, and Art MacMorough could all perfectly detail those exact loyalties, too. So, despite the haste in which it had all occurred, it had actually all gone according to plan. Everything fell into place exactly as it needed to, and Eve would come out the other end alive. Even if she did break a bone along the way, it would only be a minor glitch in the timeline.

As it goes, the Kavanaghs were always two steps ahead.

Since she had nothing to prove, she remained silent.

"BLOOD TRAITOR!" Melisende heaved, the wand that was pointed at Eve twitching with every word. "YOU CHOSE THAT MUDBLOOD OVER ONE OF YOUR OWN!? I'M EXPELLED BECAUSE OF YOU! YOU IRISH CUNT!"

"Sit down!" Moira Palancher sanctioned Alexander Sykes, pulling him back into his seat before he could rush to Eve's side.

"But—"

"But nothing, you want to get out of this in one piece, Sykes?"

"Moira—"

"You sit the fuck down! I don't know what this is— but it doesn't look good," Moira hissed warily, turning to eye the crowd covering Melisende and Eve from her view. It did not need an image, though, she winced all the same when she heard the words "BLOOD TRAITOR!" rip from the doors and into the Great Hall over and over again.

"My own?" Eve repeated, finally looking Melisende in the eye. "You just called me an Irish cunt."

"What the fuck?" James asked, he had taken to standing on one of the Hufflepuff benches as Professor Shacklebolt rushed through the crowd to the battling witches. But too many were too interested in the show unfolding than they were in letting him pass to put an end to it. So, he wasn't making great headway.

"What's happening?" Remus questioned, lifting himself onto the bench next to James.

Anyone who had not been quick enough to get front row had taken to the benches or the tabletops to watch. It was a sight to see, indeed. The only exception were the Slytherins, a mix of some standing, lingering by their tables, and others simply remaining seated while turned to look towards the crowd. Only Severus Snape had continued to eat after witnessing Eve Kavanagh being manhandled from her dinner.

"What the fuck's going on?" Edmund Nott exclaimed, his jaw tight. He was one of the Slytherins standing, trying to piece together what was happening.

"Did Gamp just say she was expelled?" Cedric Avery asked, looking at Edmund and then to Eoin.

"Kavanagh got her expelled?" Peter posed the same question, but on the other side of the Hall and to a much different assortment of faces. His mouth opened as he stood on the Hufflepuff table with his chin stretched as far forward as it could go. He was on the tips of his toes, barely able to make out much of anything.

"I think so, mate," Sirius answered, leaning to get a better look himself.

But it didn't matter, for whatever they couldn't see, they could hear.

"YOU PICKED THEIR SIDE!? YOU PICKED THEM!? YOU FUCKING BLOODTRAITOR. YOU'RE DONE! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Do it," Eve told her in a hushed tone that not even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs could make out. "Do it, I dare you."

And watch what happens, Eve wanted to almost add on. Not because Eve thought she was immortal, but because half a nation would rain down on Melisende's head if Eve fell at her hands. This was the last surviving inch that spoke. Melisende's shaking hand steadied as she held the wand tighter and stronger. Her body was positioned at a slight angle, her chin over her shoulder as her chest heaved up and down. The two witches stared at one another. Eve waited for the words, her fingers curling into her palms as she held her breath.

Eve Kavanagh was not afraid, and Melisende could see that.

Did Eve want to die?

Melisende's muscles slackened.

"Why, Eve?" she asked, her words as quiet as Eve's had been. "How could you do this to me?"

It was then that Eve could see and hear the strain in Melisende's voice. The witch was not angry, she was startled. The Queen of Horrors was scared of what was to come. Eve knew, now, that nothing would come of her threats. They had been only empty, void. Disappointing. She lifted herself up onto her two feet. Her elbow, hips, and head hurt, but she fought through it. One glimpse at Melisende confirmed her suspicions. Though Melisende had not relinquished her wand, she did not make any move to fulfill her promise, either. Eve stepped to her, closing the gap between them.

"You made your own bed."

"I couldn't control it," Melisende caved in, her eyes beginning to water. "It was only meant to burn off her clothes— to leave her naked. I just wanted to embarrass her."

Eve blinked once, listening.

"It was a self-extinguishing spell," she continued to hurriedly explain. "It was supposed to stop when the cloth was burned. It doesn't— it wasn't supposed to burn skin." Eve's eyes narrowed. "But… I didn't… She wore her hair down, and she has really long, thick hair, you see? I didn't realize how long it was, and it caught onto it. Once it got to her hair— I lost control of it. It took on a life of its own. I didn't know what was happening or why. I didn't think it would burn her like that. It wasn't supposed to, Eve."

She was telling the truth while lying at the same time. Not only were there gaping holes in her story that made no sense, but she was lying to herself, too. Melisende Gamp had, indeed, attempted a self-extinguishing pyro-charm, declaring that she had not been skillful enough to tailor it to whatever material Lily Evans had been wearing that night. In her words, she had lost control. A pureblood witch like Melisende would never admit that she had lost control over magic, but that was precisely what she said had happened. It had been a failure. To Eve, it was sacrilege. It was one thing to respect the boundaries and limits of magic, it was another to lose control over it.

Which is why Eve knew better than to pull out a wand while and when tranquilized.

Wow, Eve said to herself. True or not. There was not an ounce of empathy to be found, all she could do was grimace as the two gazed upon one another. A handful of minutes ago, Melisende Gamp had been the Devil, and Eve had been certain she was going to meet the Gates of Heaven. But, as she looked at the trembling witch, all Eve could think was that Melisende Gamp was either full of shite or utterly incompetent.

"You didn't want to?"

"No," Melisende replied. "It was a mistake. I fucked up."

Pathetic.

"Take care, Melisende," was the last thing Eve said, placing a hand on the witch's shoulder. By then, the witch was being held back by both Professors Slughorn and Shacklebolt. The elf that had initially dealt her the blow hovered behind them, too. Melisende's chest quickened with shallow breaths as Eve walked past the four of them. She did not turn to play host to any of the onlookers, instead making every effort to put as much distance between her and the Great Hall as possible.

"NO!" Melisende shrilled as the two professors put her in a bounding hex and began to levitate her from the Great Hall's entrance. A burst of irate and terror-struck tears flowed freely from her eyes.

No one would ever see it, for that was the last day Melisende Gamp would ever decorate those halls.

"BLOOD TRAITOR! BLOOD TRAITOR! BLOODY TRAITOR! ALL OF YOU FILTHY BLOODTRAITORS, MUDBLOODS!" She spewed on repeat at the top of her lungs.

It did not stop— not when she was dragged out into the courtyard, not when she was put into a carriage with three professors — McGonagall had ensured to be present for the last of the spectacle — and an elf to accompany her. It did not stop even as she was tossed outside of the castle's walls, the charms that had restrained her lifting only when the gates closed.

It only stopped when the iron bars shut behind her, and she was left on the ground with muddied knees to stare at what had been her home for so long. She was no longer a child, so no one had to be informed of what had happened. She would have to face her family's onslaught on her own. The despair within her transformed into something vicious and vile. Into something uglier than whatever bully she had once been. For Melisende Gamp was no longer a bully, she was a monster.

And monsters were not born, they were made.

From behind her, she could hear Melisende Gamp screaming, howling.

"BLOOD TRAITOR! BLOOD TRAITOR! BLOODY TRAITOR!"

The words rang in Eve's head even as she drew further from anyone and everyone. It was then that the tears began to well, and she began to run. She jolted through those corridors as if someone was chasing her. She ran as faraway from the Great Hall she could manage without collapsing to the ground.

It was when she finally reached the opposite end of the ground floor that she stopped— and if it hadn't been for the simple fact that an owl had flown through at that very moment— she probably would have kept going, leaping over the windowless archway, and continued straight for the forest. Both her hands held each side of the archway, and she fell to the ground in the corridor, huddling into it. It was icy, glacial. She brought her knees to her chin and placed her forehead on their tops, heaving in and out as she closed her eyes.

She could still hear the words in her ears. She could still see the faces of Edmund Nott, Evan Rosier, and just about everyone else looking at her as she had been lifted and dragged away. She could still feel the pinching and stinging of Melisende grabbing all her hair into a fist and tossing her into the corridor. She could feel the tip of the witch's wand pointed at her heart. She could feel the loneliness, now, of her choices.

Except, life and the people who consumed it were hardly ever categorical.

And, sure, a Kavanagh could be two steps ahead, but that did not mean they never missed one.

Which was why the person who came next was nothing short of an unexpected gift.

"Eve?" A voice said quietly, softly. She blinked up at the wizard standing before her. Indeed, the desert surrounding her disappeared as someone stepped in to join her caravan. Eve was quick to wipe any straggling tears from her face. Her thoughts paused, and Melisende's voice was gone with the wind. He sat next to her on the floor, knees bent to his chest, copying her position. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Eve replied, buttoning up what she had just escaped from. It all seemed ridiculous, now. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry I didn't do something," he apologized, his nose scrunching up as he looked out to the distance. "That looked bloody awful."

"It wasn't yours to do something with," she reassured him.

"Yeah, still," he sighed, placing his hand on top of Eve's. "That was still shite." He held her hand, both of them looking with different but similar expressions out to the corridor. His full of sorrow, hers fatigued, both befuddled. "I thought we were all getting along, finally."

"Not with this bunch," Eve sighed.

"They went and fucked it up, didn't they?" He asked, looking down at her. Eve nodded. "Why'd they have to go and fuck it up? We were getting on just fine. Why don't people just want to have fun?"

"I don't know."

They sat, for a moment, in silence.

"Eve?"

"Yeah."

"You wouldn't want to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with me? You know, we'll drink and what not. I'll bring a flask. It'll be fun," he offered.

"Yeah, I'll go."

"Thanks, Eve."

"You're welcome, Alex."

He leaned his head against Eve's, still holding her hand.

Everyone returned to their seats at their Headmaster's demand. Though there was usually an even, steady buzzing of voices at meals— tonight, it was amplified. People spoke faster, louder, and heartier than they had in days. It was a mix of relief from Melisende Gamp being gone, and also jitters from the battle that had just happened in front of their very eyes.

"Did Kavanagh...?" Remus faltered, having taken his seat but not yet able to do much else.

"Just Gamp?" James questioned, both of them looking at one another.

"Maybe, she really didn't do anything?" Sirius suggested.

"Why'd she speak up now, then?" James asked, eyes squinting.

"Yeah, why wait until now?" Peter tacked on. "She could've said something on Wednesday, yeah?"

"Maybe one of them was about to squeal," James contemplated out loud.

"Eh, I don't know," Sirius said dubiously.

Remus paused, considering what exactly could have made Eve denounce Melisende Gamp then and there. What was different about that day from any other day? Why was Friday any different than Wednesday? He tapped his index finger against his lip, sight darting around the platters in front of him. No, he thought. To him, it seemed like a wild stretch, as if he was grasping for straws. Could he even dare say it out loud to the others? He glimpsed briefly at James. No, he couldn't, that's how bizarre it would come off. He would get mashed potatoes thrown at his face if he so much as questioned it, and yet, it would be the height of coincidence if it was anything else. For, exactly two hours ago, they had been together. And he had had a lot to say, and he had said it. Nothing had been held back. Come two hours later, Melisende Gamp was blacklisted and purged. Was that really just supposed to be a coincidence?

Or had Eve actually listened to him?

Remus turned to look over his shoulder at the now vacant entrance. He pressed the finger that had been at his lips to his temple, his eyes dropping to the goblet of pumpkin juice in front of Dorcas. The desire to retreat early for his post-dinner smoke sprung from the shadows.

"Lily," Remus announced without thinking, catching the witch's attention. She turned with still wide eyes, bent over the table to stare up at him from two bodies over. Lily had not been able to say so much as a word ever since she had heard Melisende Gamp announce to the entire student body that she was gone— gone for good. "What do you think?"

"What do you think?" Dorcas repeated, in case Remus' croaked voice hadn't been loud enough for her to hear. "How do you feel?"

Ever since Lily had been discharged from the Hospital Wing, their seating arrangement at dinner was, well, not to Remus' liking. Lily had decided to sit at the far side of the Gryffindor seventh year witch cluster at dinners, placing Dorcas Meadowes, Emmeline Vance, Marjory Bones and Chastity Proudmore between her and the Marauders. While Remus didn't mind Dorcas or Emmeline, it had just been a glaring display of where he currently stood in Lily's life. At breakfast and lunch, it was even worse. Lily had opted to sit at the far end of the Gryffindor table with Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas. Hence, the bending over and repetition taking place at that moment.

"I don't know," Lily admitted with a considerable breath. "But she must've given a memory."

"What makes you think that?" Sirius asked, the next to bend over.

"I— I don't know, but Dumbledore told me… Well, he said that it had to be irrefutable proof for him to be able to do anything. He was hoping it'd be my own memory, but I guess... I reckon Kavanagh did it for me. I'm only assuming, though."

"Doubt it," James scoffed. "Probably just weaseled her way out of it. Put Gamp in the gutter."

"Probably was a memory," Sirius agreed with Lily, nodding. "Doesn't look like they were willing to keep Gamp around for much longer— it'd have to be a memory. She was gone like that," he snapped his fingers, "didn't even have a chance to wipe her own arse."

"But doesn't that mean that Kavanagh was there?" Peter probed. A wrinkle of concern etched James' forehead. "And she's still here. Selwyn, too."

"Think Dumbledore would be okay with you seeing it?" Dorcas asked, turning to look at Lily.

Except, Lily would never see the memory. Of course, she was not allowed to, but she would never know that she was not allowed to. Under any other circumstance, she would be permitted to view the memory of her attack, but it would not be the Unbreakable Vow that would keep her from learning the truth. Lily would choose not to because she decided that, at least, she could live without that pain. The physical pain. Because there was already enough pain that she would carry with her forever. So, if she could spare herself that one extra detail, she would. She knew enough to be scarred for the rest of her life. And, besides, Lily trusted Dumbledore, she trusted that he had made the right decision.

"Why would she— why'd she do that?" Lily looked at all of their faces, all of them as lost as her. Except for one, one that seemed to be inclined to answer, but she did not ask Remus to speak, for she could piece it together without words. Despite Remus' reservations, no, it could not be a coincidence that it had been Eve Kavanagh and, say, not Rosalia Selwyn that had let the cat out of the bag. Remus was the only link between Lily and Eve. She knew he had stepped in, he had done it for her. But Lily also knew that Eve had not done it for her, Eve had done it for him. Someone might have asked Lily why, had she said it out loud, and she would answer very simply: because Eve Kavanagh listened to Remus Lupin. Done.

The untangling of the multitude of entanglements roping through Hogwarts.

Lily would've laughed if the severity of it all wasn't beating down on her at that moment.

"Dumbledore probably gave her a pass if she spilled," James reiterated.

"You know what I think, since you asked, Remus?" Lily turned to look at him, the wizard finally bringing himself to a place where he could look at her face-to-face, too. "I think if she was at fault, her and Selwyn would have been escorted out with Gamp."

Remus lifted his brows, but began to slowly nod. He, too, did not think that Eve Kavanagh would have gone to such an extent unless she knew she was innocent. At least, innocent enough. How she had been there to even be able to contribute a memory was still a matter of concern for him, but he also trusted their Headmaster enough to make the right decision. Matter of fact, Remus trusted Dumbledore, and had reason to trust him, more than any other student seated in the Great Hall. Albus Dumbledore had given him a second chance at life— of course, Remus trusted the wizard without and beyond doubt.

"What? No! Come on, she probably got her dad involved," James continued, but Sirius, too, was now looking at him as if he was shaking empty cans.

"I know none of you want to listen to me," Lily inserted. "But I know what I saw. Yes, Kavanagh was there, but she was not well. Not at all. I know you four are looking for a fight for whatever reason— but, truthfully, I never blamed her. I thought I did, but no, there's no way. Okay? So, just leave her alone. Anyway, it's because of her Gamp's gone. I owe her one."

"You don't owe her anything," Dorcas stated. Lily rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, seriously, Evans— owe?" James added.

"I am not looking for a fight," Sirius commented, ignoring the daggers James sent his way.

"Yeah, honestly," Peter added.

Me neither, Remus agreed silently. Even though, he had just done exactly that, hadn't he? Fuck. Remus bit down on the insides of his gums, pinching the corners of his eyes. It had been the single detail he had kept brushing over. Even Eve had gone as far as to tell him what Lily had been saying the entire time. She had been too drunk. She had blacked out. She had been unwell. She had been telling the truth, then. Fuck. He lifted his head back to look at the ceiling because looking at anyone's face was the last thing he wanted to do. Remus stifled an exasperated groan. Fuck, he thought. Fuck.

"Okay, so what?" James grilled, hunching his shoulders. "She was drunk, pissed— doesn't mean shite. People do fucked up things when they're drunk—"

"Yeah, you would know. Wouldn't you, Potter?" Lily flung at him.

"Likewise, Evans," James snapped just as fast, lifting his goblet to her in a salute.

"Okay so Kavanagh's pissed, Gamp's set you on fire— what about Selwyn?" Sirius rehashed, winning Lily's attention. She frowned, her shoulders falling as she turned to observe the blonde witch seated next to Aphrodite Flint.

"I don't know," Lily admitted. "She doesn't seem bothered?"

"You don't just want to see the memory for yourself?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know. Not really?"

"Fair enough," Sirius said, shrugging. "I wouldn't want to, either."

The silence that followed spoke louder than anything that could be said. Melisende had done Lily at least one favor, and none of them would fight her to relive what she did not even remember.

"Well, I wouldn't put it past Gamp to have recruited some foot soldiers along the way," Lily guessed. "Maybe, I don't know, Dumbledore must have thought she was innocent enough to not be expelled." She inhaled deeply and then exhaled it all with a loud breath. "You know what? I'm happy Gamp is gone. I just wanted it to end. I don't think Selwyn will do anything without Gamp being around. She's not the type."

"True," Sirius snorted, wholeheartedly agreeing.

"Why— why did, if Kavanagh's not at fault... Isn't it a bit suspicious? What if Selwyn and her get away with something—"

"James," Sirius pleaded. "Drop it, mate. Gamp's gone."

"But—"

"Let's move on."

While Remus still had a couple of points he would like clarified, he could not have agreed more with Sirius than he did at that moment. Remus, like Lily, had just wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted all of this to end, too. Tomorrow, he wanted to wake up and go to breakfast and talk about something that wasn't Melisende Gamp or Rosalia Selwyn or Eve Kavanagh. Tomorrow, fuck it, tomorrow he wanted to talk about Quidditch and tits. He did not care. Lily had made it more than clear that she was happy, and he could see it, too. Lily finally looked as if she could breathe again. She had filled her plate to its very brim, she was conversing freely with Dorcas, and she would smile at Remus every time they locked eyes.

Thank Merlin, he thought as Lily flung a chip onto his plate to grab his attention. They both broke out into a laugh.

And here we have it, the night of the greatest party Hogwarts ever had.

Okay, that scene between Melisende and Eve is chaotic as hell, but it's meant to be, because it was chaotic as hell (at least, that's how I felt when revising). I hope you all felt the urgency Eve must've felt when she thought she was kapoot. This and the next one are long chapters. They are both Eve-centric. Chapter 18 will dive back into the other storylines to further develop the story. If you could not tell by now, there is a lot of mention of Ireland because one of the points of this story is to explore it (severely lacking in canon).

Also, if anyone's curious, I write Remus as an ENFJ which is exactly what he is in canon (Rowling confirmed via twitter). So, his personality in this fanfic is pretty much canonical. Everyone else is kind of a free for all (lol jk).

Anyway, thank you for the lovely reviews from last chapter. I'm glad people actually like the story. Sometimes, I am just like ? with this story, but you're all so lovely. I hope you enjoy these two chapters, as well.

TRIGGER WARNINGS for the NEXT CHAPTER: substance abuse struggle (this whole story, really, but next chapter goes into detail); non-sexual violence/abuse