Fragments of Hope Chapter 10: Eris, a harry potter fanfic

ERIS

Chaos

Kinglsey's statement two days later confirmed most of what Hope had been told, even if it went into less depth about The Crow's potential motives. By mid January, everyone in the wizarding world knew about the mysterious man who had appeared from nowhere and his deadly aims. News articles popped up every day discussing his identity, analysing his potential next moves and predicting the outcome of the Narcoviral Curse on wizards and muggle population. It quickly became impossible to tell the difference between genuine news and wild speculation, and Hope started avoiding the papers all together.

By late February, it was obvious to most that an avalanche was approaching, not a flurry of snow. The Crow's plan had proved effective and muggles were falling ill across the globe. Wizards, thus far, remained unharmed by the curse, but magi-medical experts estimated that up to twenty percent of them may already be carrying and spreading disease without realising. Quarantine measures had been put in place and wizards were being advised to stay away from muggles at all costs, but many were refusing to heed official advice.

By the end of March, there was no denying it. The world had descended into complete and utter chaos. Muggle authorities were in a state of grave panic, under pressure from their own kind to act in one way and from magical leaders to act in another. Aurors, as Hope knew from the sporadic news she received from her parents, had barely had any time off at all, overwhelmed as they were in their efforts to track down The Crow on top of their regular duties. Yet their quarry remained elusive, untraceable and unheard from since sending his original message to wizarding leaders. Staff at St Mungo's and other magical hospitals were equally overwhelmed, working away on possible counter curses and cures while preparing to aid the muggle world however they could.

Teddy wrote to Hope every few days with brief updates.

Hey Dopey,

Work's mental at the moment. Loads of us researchers have been taken off our regular projects to try and make some progress on the cure for the curse. It's pretty intense but I've been put in a team with Jessye and also Hestia, whose been transferred to magienetics too, and I'm sharing an office with them. They know far more about the subject than me, but I'm trying to help wherever I can.

Don't have much news other than that. Vic says hi. It's been a manic start to her healing placements but she's doing OK.

Love you always. Please stay safe.

Teddy xx

The atmosphere inside the castle remained as grim, as more and more students with muggle relatives became worried about friends and family back home. Professor Vector addressed the school at large before the holidays and requested that anyone with non-magical relatives stay at school for Easter.

"We will put measures in place to support you here," she informed them. "And we will address the situation in the summer when it comes. By then, we hope to have approved testing procedures that will determine whether it is safe for individuals to go home. You could already be carrying the curse - we believe many wizards already are. Please do not go back to your families if there is any chance of putting relatives at risk. If all your family are magical then you are free to do as you wish, and we will make arrangements for you to get home via the floo network, but let me make it plain that you must not mingle or loiter in muggle areas at any point over the holidays. Other people's lives depend on the actions we take today. You must be sensible."

Sensible was a word that Roxanne was choosing to be selective about. She was obediently following all safety measures when it came to the Narcoviral Curse, heeding the Hogsmeade ban, reading the new pieces of advice that came through weekly and persuading her friends to do the same. When it came to other areas of safety, she was taking serious liberties.

"Rox, you need to be careful," Dom said in frustration, as she filled them in on her latest night time escapade with Iain Logan, a seventh year Slytherin she had been dating on and off since Christmas. "Seriously, use something. Cast the charm. Anything, please."

Hope could only agree. The last thing Roxanne needed right now was an unwanted pregnancy.

"It's fine," Roxanne sighed. "Stop worrying about it."

"I can't stop worrying about it!" Dom exclaimed. "You should be. You aren't stupid. You know how sex works. I'm not going to stop going on about it, you know."

Roxanne rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. "Next time I'll tell him my cousin Dom wants me to be sensible so that she doesn't have to be my permanent babysitter in a year or so."

She was grinning, but Dom glared at her.

"Tell him whatever you like, just have a bit more common sense."

"So, Adam," Roxanne said, changing the subject and turning to Hope. She hated arguing with Dom. "What's going on there?"

Hope gave her an unimpressed look. "Nothing, as you well know," she said. "He's still going out with Stella. You must have seen them kissing all over the place. I mean, can't they get a room?"

"I think she's getting bored of him," Dom said matter-of-factly. "She's always flirting with other guys. James told me the other day. I think James has finally cottoned on that you like him and wants to set you up, by the way, so you might get your wish sooner than you think."

"I don't want to wish a break up on him," Hope protested feebly. This was perfectly true. She didn't want Stella to break up with Adam, reducing her to a rebound option at best. If Adam were to break up with Stella and happened to decide Hope was a much better choice of girlfriend, that would be another matter.

"Don't you like anyone else?" Roxanne persisted. "There are loads of fit guys in our year."

Are there?

"Nah, not really," Hope yawned. "Don't you dare mention Cadmus," she added, as Roxanne's eyes glinted teasingly.

"Fine, I won't. But he still likes you, you know."

Hope mimed vomiting and turned away.

Not since The Surge in 2005 had the Auror office buzzed with the frenetic activity that could only be associated with darker times and unsolved, widespread threats to the population. Tempers were short, working hours long, and frustrations grew as leads hit dead end after dead end. Yet despite the grim outside world, optimism remained, largely aided by the fact that Harry Potter not Ralph Savage was now in charge, managing his team with patience, authority and the odd touch of humour to keep up morale. He was also insistent on his staff taking proper breaks every day, which was why the lunch room was so busy one Wednesday at midday when Auror Bentley strode in and slammed several papers down on top of the table.

"This is getting ridiculous," he declared. "Four supposed sightings of The Crow this week alone. One with a picture that's been sent in."

He held up the paper to show them. A lanky teenager dressed in muggle clothes with floppy brown hair stood waiting at a bus stop, engrossed in a mobile phone. He bore as much resemblance to The Crow as Bentley did.

"This happens with cases like this," Cragg reminded him, banishing her empty plate to the sink in the corner, picking up the pile of papers at her feet and making to leave the room. "And you know full well that to maximise the chances of real sightings, we have to put up with hysteria along the way."

"All bloody pointless when we know The Crow's in disguise." Bentley took his own food from his cubby hole and sunk down onto a recently vacated chair, still grumbling as his eyes scanned his newspaper.

Hughes and Tonks remained a little longer as most of their colleagues took this as a signal to end their lunch break. Bentley was an acquired taste. Yet, despite his frequent complaints and severe moods, Tonks had a lot of appreciation for the man she had worked with for fifteen years. Reliable as they came with a relentless commitment to duty, he pulled through when it mattered, and if you got him on a good day his clipped humour was thoroughly entertaining. Trainee Dan Gunnar, the only other colleague left in the room, now piped up.

"This is probably a really stupid question."

"No such thing as a stupid question," Tonks said.

"Only inquisitive idiots," Hughes quipped. "Isn't that what you'd say, Bentley?"

Even Bentley's lips twitched at this, although he didn't look up from his paper.

"I've been meaning to ask for ages," Dan pressed on, unperturbed. "Why are we so sure The Crow is in disguise? How do we know he's not just really good at hiding."

He cast an apprehensive glance at Bentley as he said it, as though worried a put down was coming, but Bentley showed no signs of hearing the question.

"It's not a stupid question," Tonks assured him. "The short answer is that we don't know. In fact, Harry still swears there's a familiarity about The Crow's face. But, as you know, wizarding tracking and surveillance systems all over the world are assessing the face that has been presented to us via the holographic charm. Every day thousands of civilians get scanned by widespread observance charms to try and pick out The Crow. And despite all the hysteria from the general population, not a single match has shown up yet from specialist agencies. They have that side covered far better than we could manage, so we have to assume the opposite, that he's in disguise and therefore could be anyone. It helps us avoid complacency."

"Makes sense." Dan finished his last mouthful of rice. "I'd better go and finish that report, Tonks." He too cleaned up his cutlery and exited the room, leaving Tonks, Hughes and Bentley alone.

"I really like Dan," Hughes observed. "I didn't work with him at all last year. He's always calm, no matter how much work he has on. Always asks how my day is going before talking about his. How's he looking on his practical finals front?" she asked Tonks.

Tonks smiled. "He should pass them all without too much trouble. Harry's pleased with him. As you say, he's got the right work ethic. A tad haphazard when there's a lot going on, but nothing alarming."

"That's normal, after two years training. Finesse comes with time."

"Only to some," Bentley interjected. He had finally put down his paper. "I don't see much evidence of it from you two."

"Oh shut up," Hughes aimed a kick at his chair. "We can't all have your superior skills."

"I am far less clumsy than I used to be," Tonks added with dignity. "Not that anyone has bothered to notice."

"We did notice." They turned to see that Harry had entered the room in time to catch the end of this conversation. "Ginny said the other day that she couldn't remember when she'd last had to fix a plate after you'd been for dinner. No point jinxing it though."

He cocked an eyebrow at them.

"So three of my most senior Aurors are slacking while the juniors take on all the hard work, are they?"

He was grinning even as he scanned the grey paper in his hand.

"Take all the time you need. I've got news from the MoSS you might be interested in."

News from the MoSS could mean anything these days but the pronouncement was enough to make the three of them sit up straight, tenser than two moments before.

"The Carlos Institute has created a test for determining if wizards and witches are carrying the curse," Harry went on. "It's been verified today and should be available for widespread use in four to six weeks. It's not a cure, but it's better than nothing."

Better than nothing was an understatement in Tonks opinion. It would mean that all Ministry workers whose roles involved contact with the muggle world could be tested to mitigate muggle contamination. With luck, it could be rolled out to muggleborn school pupils before the summer to check who was safe to return to their families. Most crucially of all, it may be a step towards working out how the affliction was transmitted from wizard to wizard and a possible basis for finding a cure.

"So overall, good news," Harry said. "Which is needed. I'll confirm our team's testing dates as soon as I know."

Hughes called out to him as left the room to return to his never ending to do list. "Have you had a break today, Potter?"

Harry had already gone with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Why would anyone want to be a Head of Department in this place?" Hughes wondered aloud. "Bit of extra money and status in exchange for what? Double the work and triple the stress, from all can see."

"That was more of an issue in the past," Bentley objected. "The Minister has turned the situation around in the last decade. Savage leaving was the only Head of Department vacancy in the last five years."

This was true, Tonks supposed. Many of the more recently recruited heads appeared to be sticking with the job, despite the challenges. Maida Elabeed, Head of the the Department of Magical Law, had been talking about retirement for years now but continued to postpone it. Percy, she knew, would sooner give up his limbs than his post as Head of the Department of Transportation. But like Hughes, Tonks could not see the appeal of the top job. The pressures of being a senior Auror were bad enough at times, without the added stress of managing a whole team and leading them through a worldwide crisis.

"Imagine if we all packed it in... defected to quiet admin jobs," she sighed, leaning back in her chair to relish the feeling of relaxing before the pressures of the day kicked back in. "Just think, working nine to five every day. No night shifts. No on call or alerts. That's the dream isn't it?"

Hughes let out a wistful sigh, playing along. Bentley snorted.

"Nice talk Lupin," he said. "You'd be the first of us to die of boredom."

And Tonks knew this to be true. Being an Auror was all she had ever wanted, all she had ever known and that was fine with her. Adrenalin was already surging through her as she left the room to return to work.

"Mum's talking about shutting the pub for a while," Michael Longbottom told Hope one potions lesson, as she bent over and tried to relight the fire underneath her cauldron. This was a recurring problem in potions and, to her, a sign that she shouldn't have to take the damn subject at all. If she couldn't even get the fire to light, how was she supposed to produce an acceptable concoction? Michael's own cauldron simmered away, its contents the perfect shade of violet specified in the instructions.

"Really?" Hope said, pausing in her efforts and looking up at him in surprise. "Muggles can't get in the Leaky Cauldron, can they?

"Not in it," Michael confirmed. "But it's on a muggle street, remember, and a lot of customers use the main entrance. Even if she insisted on floo only, it's still a place for it to spread among wizards. It's one of the busiest social spots for our kind in London, and the more of us who become cursed, the more muggles will fall ill. It makes sense to close, just as it makes sense we can't go into Hogsmeade at the moment, even though no muggles live there."

"Personally, I don't see why we should resort to such drastic measures," Elodie declared from the bench next to them, and Hope glowered at her. Elodie had already made her feelings about the Hogsmeade ban very plain, and her selfishness was infuriating. "I mean, our kind are fine. I don't know why we're worrying so much."

Hope's wand jerked and the fire streaming out of the end scorched a hole in the work bench. "Sorry," she murmured to Michael, waving away the smoke, but he had not noticed. He was also glaring at Elodie.

"Thousands of us have family and friends who aren't magical," he snapped. "What a pathetic little life you must lead, Elodie, if you can't see anyone's perspective but your own."

Hope felt a grim sense of satisfaction as Elodie flushed and turned back to her work without a word in retaliation. It was unlike Michael to snap at anyone, but he commanded a fair amount of respect from the students in their year. Elodie clearly did not want to engage in a battle she may lose. Marion, standing next to Elodie, was looking thoroughly miserable, head bent low over her own cauldron. At the end of class she hung back and took her time putting her books in her bag.

Michael nudged Hope to indicate this, and the two of them approached her.

"Are you alright?" Hope enquired.

Marion nodded, her eyes still downcast. "Just thinking about my family. My parents and my grandparents. I can't go home for Easter, obviously, and even if they get testing in place for the summer holidays, I'm still worried. I could never live with myself if I passed something on to them."

Hope stared after Elodie, who was chatting to Natalie as the two of them made for the door, resisting an urge to pull out her wand and send her crashing to the floor. What a pitiful excuse for a friend.

"They're trying to come up with a cure," she said to Marion, hoping she sounded encouraging, not patronizing. "Wizards all over the world are working flat out trying to find a counter curse, my brother told me. So hopefully it won't be too long before we're all out of this horrible mess and you won't have to worry about infecting anyone."

Marion seemed reassured by this as Michael murmured his agreement, but he and Hope exchanged a sombre look as Marion went on her way. They both knew it wasn't going to be quite that simple.

April

Hope asked her father about it over the Easter break, one evening when it was just the two of them having dinner.

"Even if they get a counter curse to all this," she said. "How are they going to administer it? You can't wave a wand on the world, can you?"

Remus took a sip of water and shook his head gravely. "Indeed," he said. "That is what makes it so difficult. The curse is manifesting as a muggle illness, therefore the counter curse needs to work as a muggle cure. Muggle scientists and medical experts are studying the disease all over the world, trying to create what they call a vaccine, which is a means of preventing people getting the illness at all, but of course they don't know - have no way of knowing - that until the magical world comes up with a solution, their cures will remain ineffective."

"How will they do it? Our kind, I mean?"

"I have no idea," he sighed. "As Teddy explained, the illness affects everyone differently, and the levels of magic within the blood trigger various symptoms. It would seem muggles carry it in their system for a matter of days or weeks, until it has done whatever damage The Crow intended. Then it leaves them, because they don't have enough magic for the curse to renew itself and keep itself "alive", for want of a better word. Wizards carry it long term, to contaminate as many people as possible. Therefore the cure, antidote, counter curse - whatever you want to call it - would need to rid it from wizards and muggles who have it, prevent others from catching it at all, while factoring in the varying levels of magic within the people who need to be inoculated. This is a tall order, incredibly complicated. There may need to be two or three separate cures. One that can be given to wizards. One that can be administered to muggles who are suffering already and reverse the damage that has been done. And one that can be slipped, undercover, into muggle laboratories to blend with the vaccines and work at preventing transmission the way muggles expect them to."

Hope felt a heavy weight in her chest at the thought of how much further they had left to go in this battle. Her father was right. Forget complicated. It sounded damn near impossible.

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was a different place of late. The chatter in the corridors and the entrance hall was no longer, as visitors were restricted to the most urgent cases only. Those at work went about their business in a permanent ambiance of fear on top of the regular hospital stress, while tragic news from the muggle world was brought to them every day. Five months previously, the magienetics department had been one small workroom with two adjoining offices. Now, it was five giant laboratories with workers teaming in and out by the hour, pooling every possible resource they had to find a cure or counter curse for the deadly illness. Multiple offices, containing two to four desks in each, had been added seamlessly into previously bare corridors.

Sat in one of these cubicles one grey, windy Tuesday, Teddy Lupin drummed his fingers on the desk, his vision blurring for the third time in a row as he tried and failed to digest the contents of a recent report on muggle casualties and the most severe symptoms. Try as he might, focus would not come, and that signalled it was time for a break. Hestia was out this morning, attending one of the many important meetings she was regularly summoned to, but Jessye was behind him at her own desk as always, beavering away with singleminded concentration.

"Fancy a coffee break?"

His friend did not even hear him.

"You alright?"

"Teddy, come and look at this a second."

He was already standing over her shoulder, and she drew his attention to the set of parchments in front of her, each of which bore a complicated black and white diagram consisting of multiple overlapping lines. He recognised the format of the results as blood magenes, the detailed graphs that mapped out a person's magical inheritance and the visual representation of how likely a person was to pass magical powers down the bloodline. As this was Jessye's speciality, samples procured from hospitals by undercover healers were being sent to her to analyse. This would determine how muggles' genetic structures were being affected by the curse, which may in turn inform a cure. Teddy, with a very different skillset, could not make any sense of the information before him.

"You know this isn't my forte," he said. "What am I looking at?"

"These magenes are from muggles who have nearly died from the Narcoviral curse but recovered," Jessye explained, unearthing the first sheets of paper. "Naturally occurring magenes are distinct and unique to the individual but these ones are almost identical to each other. The reason is that the curse is modifying the original magene to mimic an example of strong magical inheritance."

"Right," Teddy said. "We've known all along that is how a Narcoviral curse works - in theory. The dark magic is 'trained' to recognise a specific genetic imprint, and the sickness modifies the victim's magene so that in the future, magical heritage is more likely."

"Yes," Jessye confirmed. "And all the tests I've done with Hestia confirm that. The initial version of the curse - or variant, to use the muggle term - has been using the same magene as a blueprint. This one, to be exact." She pulled another sheet to the front of the desk and traced a finger over some of the dark, curving lines blotted onto the parchment. "It's from an anonymised test subject who informed the magientetic breakthrough ten years ago. The connection with St Mungo's research has been noted by the Ministry and the MoSS but it's not overtly suspicious, given the publicity the breakthrough had at the time. The study, and therefore this magene, could have been given out via any freedom of information request made in the past decade."

Teddy had already known this too, but Jessye's tranquil explanation did not match her expression of alarm.

"Recently, a new variant of the virus has been detected in the muggle world," she went on. "We knew this would happen too, assuming The Crow was smart about mimicking muggle medicine. Muggle viruses are constantly mutating, therefore using the same magene long term would make his plans difficult. As soon as hospitals started admitting victims of the new variant, samples were sent through to us from the undercover healers. These are the first three magene results to come through."

She spread another set of diagrams in front of him, and even Teddy's untrained eye could see that although they were extremely similar to each other, they didn't match the first one.

"You're saying that they're imitating a different magene, presumably?" He pointed to the sheet of parchment sitting to Jessye's left, more faded than the others. "This?"

"That's the one."

"Is that from the same St Mungo's study?"

She did not reply immediately and he did not press her. He was unnerved by her uncharacteristic loss of composure.

"It does match a record we have within St Mungo's," she said at last. "But it's not from a study. Not from any published material at all. It's from a private test, one that wouldn't have been available to the public."

Teddy was starting to understand her consternation. If natural blood magenes were unique to the individual, the chances of a match between the blueprint of the current curse variant and a private test result within the hospital were slim enough to be highly suspicious.

"Could be coincidence." It was a feeble suggestion, for want of more concrete rationale, and Jessye pulled at a strand of her brown hair in agitation.

"I don't think it can be."

"Why? Who's magene is this - where's it from?"

"It's mine."

"What?"

He sank down onto the seat next to her, flabbergasted.

"When I first started here and was learning how the systems worked, I got to test myself and examine my own magical ancestry and heritage," she said, still tugging on locks of hair. "It was fascinating but I didn't use it - as you know it's inadvisable to put samples from your own body into your research. So I filed it away and forgot about it. It was the only time I ever tested myself and it's been sitting up on those shelves ever since, until I got it down to look at again today.'

She waved vaguely at the filed documents sitting in rows above their heads, eyes still darting between the graphs on the table.

"So," Teddy had to be sure he was understanding this right. "So the only documented copy of your blood magene graph has somehow made its way outside the hospital, and is now being used to inform the second variant of the Narcoviral Curse?"

"It would seem so."

"You're sure it's yours? Not just one that looks similar on first glance?"

"Pretty certain, yes."

She did not explain her reasoning and he did not need it to trust her judgement.

"But... How?"

It was a rhetorical question. She would have no more idea than he did.

One afternoon in the first week of the new term, Hope was sitting underneath a gnarled oak tree in the grounds, alone with Oompa the pygmy puff, Dom having managed to drag Roxanne off to the library to do some studying, when she was approached by Scorpius and Albus.

She smiled up at them, but they were both looking a little subdued.

"What's up?"

"Defence class," Scorpius said, throwing himself down on the grass next to her. Oompa bounced onto his chest at once, and he stroked her fondly.

"We did boggarts," Albus explained. "But most fears were related to the Narcoviral Curse. Family dying, or getting ill. Was pretty depressing to be honest. Hard to make cheerful."

"Can't really blame them for that." Hope said gloomily. She wondered what form her boggart would take if she were to tackle it now, given that Greyback was long dead. The image of her family, lifeless on the floor, still crept into her mind. Her father's face stood out in particular, stark white, his eyes wide and staring. She shuddered and shook her head to banish the unpleasant image.

"Did you have to fight it?"

"Nope," Albus said.

"Edgecombe was firm about that," Scorpius added. "Said that anyone who didn't want to didn't have to."

"She learnt her lesson then," Hope said with grim satisfaction, but she didn't resent her teacher too much for what had happened the previous year. If nothing else, it had been the trigger for an open discussion with her parents and she had felt a lot better afterwards.

"Did you know muggles can see boggarts?" Al added. "Sometimes they hide in children's bedrooms or in old, abandoned houses. That's why some muggles think places are haunted. They are actually seeing boggarts."

Hope nodded. "Yeah, Mum said. The Aurors can be called out to get rid of them."

She looked between them curiously, opened her mouth, then shut it again. It was personal. She of all people knew that.

"My grandfather," Scorpius said, in response to her unasked question. "He's terrifying. I've been scared of him since I was tiny. Although we've been seeing less of him over the last few years. He and Dad had a row recently, Mum told me in a letter. He's not following any of the regulations put down for wizards because he doesn't believe it's worth it."

Hope ground her teeth. Lucius Malfoy was a piece of work - Grandad Weasley had said so enough times. She had only seen him once or twice, from a distance, and had hated him instantly for his arrogant airs and sneering demeanour. His wife - her own great aunt - wasn't so bad. Hope had met her and knew that she and her grandmother kept in contact and now saw each other every month.

"It least Gran's sensible," Scorpius broke in, echoing her thoughts. "Grandfather does listen to her, even if he listens to no one else."

"How would you have made him funny, I wonder," Hope mused.

Scorpius sniggered. "Not sure. Dressed him up as a muggle, maybe? Made him one of those football players who wear shorts and t-shirts and have the shaved hairstyles, like on that poster Lils has in her bedroom."

Hope tried to picture Lucius Malfoy in a garish sporting outfit, with the short shorts and striped T-shirt and knobbly boots that muggle football players wore, his hair shaved with shapes cut out of it. The thought did bring a smile to her face. Scorpius was laughing to himself, but Albus still looked solemn.

"What's up?"

"I was thinking," he mumbled. "I've no idea how I'd make my boggart funny. I don't even know what it would be."

"You don't know what your worst fear is?"

"No, I sort of do," Albus said, going red. "But I don't know how to describe it. I guess it would be... like... people talking about me, or laughing at me, but.. kind of worse. Properly judging me, you know. I know that sounds stupid, and people are always saying I shouldn't care what others think. But I do care - it's always been like that."

Hope was startled by the frankness of his confession and glanced awkwardly at Scorpius as she tried to decide how to respond. Before she could speak, Albus sighed and threw her an envious stare.

"I wish so much I was like you, Hope. You're so sure of yourself and you don't care what anyone thinks of you. Ever."

Hope was taken aback by this. She did not show any signs of offence - Albus had no doubt intended to be complimentary - but she wasn't sure his words were true. She had been feeling less and less sure of herself recently. She had made no progress with making friends her own age. She was doing average at best in lessons, despite her resolve to work harder this year. Flying was her only real strength. Her parents and Teddy were being helpful and productive and working away at ridding the world of this deadly curse, while she felt redundant. Powerless. Hopeless.

She said none of this. As always, her bright, colourful suit of armour hid her true emotions from the world.

Thankfully.

It was something to be thankful about. Wasn't it?

May

A week later, Roxanne came to find Dom and Hope, looking ashen.

"OK," she mumbled. "You may have been right about needing to be sensible. With boys, y'know."

Dom stared at her with wide eyes.

"What? Roxanne, I thought you were being sensible. You told me you'd started using the charm."

"We were!" Roxanne said. "Honestly we were, except this one time before Easter, we got carried away and I forgot."

She said this very fast, avoiding looking at either of them.

"So... you're...?" Dom's face was quite pale.

"Well, I don't know, do I? I just - I could be. I'll only know if I take a test."

"You need to go to the nurse," Dom said. "She'll be able to give you the testing potion. You won't be the first student to need it.'

"I'm not going to the nurse!" Roxanne sounded outraged. "The hospital wing is teaming at the moment - people worrying about having symptoms of the curse even though we've been told a zillion times that it can't affect us. Someone will definitely find out, then it will be all over the school."

"I don't think that's true," Hope pointed out. "She'll have to keep anything you tell her confidential. It's her job."

Roxanne scowled. "In theory. But everyone finds out everything round here. Remember when Julian Bailey had those boils last year. He'll be Julian Boiley forever now."

"Julian's a massive bigmouth - he probably told people himself."

"I'm not taking any chances," Roxanne said. "I am not having a rumour going around that I'm pregnant. No way. I need to get a testing potion myself from the apothecary."

Dom raised an eyebrow.

"How may I ask are you planning to do that, when we're not allowed into Hogsmeade at the moment?"

"Easy. Morella's got an old invisibility cloak. I'll borrow it, sneak down there on Saturday afternoon and buy one from Amersham's."

"You'd rather sneak into Hogsmeade than go to the nurse?" Dom gaped at her. "Rox, your dad works in Hogsmeade some of the time. And Uncle Ron. The shop's only a few doors down from the apothecary - for all we know they go in there. How the hell are you going to explain being caught out of bounds buying a pregnancy testing potion if you run into them? For Merlin's sake, go to the nurse."

"No!"

Hope knew there would be no convincing Roxanne. Obstinacy was a common trait among the Weasley cousins, but Roxanne was possibly the most stubborn of them all.

"I'll go to Hogsmeade for you," she offered. "I can be in disguise so even if someone sees me it won't matter."

Dom appeared torn between the knowledge that this was a sensible compromise and disapproval that they would still be breaking the rules, but Roxanne's face split with gratitude.

"Really?"

"Of course."

Roxanne threw her arms round Hope.

"Thank you, Hope. Thank you, thank you! I'll pay you back somehow!"

"You'd better," Hope said, grinning. Then her face sobered. "What are you going to do, if-"

She trailed off and Roxanne shook her head.

"I don't want to think about that right now."

Getting into Hogsmeade that Saturday proved to be remarkably easy. Disguised as a small, non-descript woman with short brown hair, Hope donned Morella's invisibility cloak up in the dormitory and made her way out of the castle and down to the village. There were no charms or warnings in place to stop her leaving the Hogwarts grounds, which struck her as odd, until she came to Hogsmeade and saw two Aurors patrolling the deserted main street. No doubt they were under orders to send any student back up to the castle immediately, and she supposed the Hogwarts staff considered a bollocking from senior Aurors to be suitable punishment for any rule breakers.

As she got closer, Hope recognised them as Auror Bentley and Auror Hughes, and felt a tremor of anticipation. Senior Aurors indeed. Grateful, at least, that it wasn't her mother or Harry on patrol - even in disguise, they would have recognised her somehow - Hope waited until they were at the other end of the street, slipped into the dead end alley right by Amersham's apothecary and pulled off the cloak. Then, checking the coast was clear, she strolled casually back out into the main street and made for the entrance.

There were other customers browsing the shelves in the shop, and Hope relaxed a little. The village was still open to residents, so there shouldn't be anything suspicious about a random woman buying supplies. She found the potion she needed and took it to the checkout. The witch at the desk, clearly bored, didn't even look at her properly as she accepted the handful of sickles Hope was holding out and grunted her thanks.

Feeling relieved as she came out into the fresh air, Hope ducked back into the alley to pull the cloak over herself once more, double checked that she had bought the right potion, and prepared to slip back out to the main street. Then she paused. She could hear the footsteps of the reapproaching Aurors, and decided to wait until they were walking away again to be sure that they wouldn't hear her in return. She knew about Auror Bentley's reputation for having sharp ears and excellent tracking skills, and she was not at all keen to be caught by two of her mother's colleagues, out of bounds, invisible, in disguise and carrying a pregnancy testing potion. She could already hear the howler that would be winging its way to her if her mother were to get wind of that.

Most annoyingly, Bentley and Hughes did not walk past the alleyway, but stopped right in front of it, completely blocking the exit. There would be no getting passed them without being noticed until they had moved on. Damn. Hope crept as far back as she could and tried to breathe as silently as possible.

Hughes leant against the wall while Bentley stood straight backed, his head swivelling right and left, not distracted from his duty.

"This is so boring," Hope heard him mutter to his colleague. "As if The Crow is going to show up in Hogsmeade."

"Oh, come on," Hughes chided, yawning. "It's not that bad. It's a nice day and we get to walk around. Lighten up. It makes sense to have people stationed around. And we want to be grateful we have Potter as head now. He's managing pretty well in my opinion. Savage would have fucked this whole thing up long ago."

Bentley grunted.

"I suppose that is true."

"Thank Merlin we haven't been sent on the Siberian recce." Hughes shuddered. "Three days they have to spend there, at least. They'll be bloody freezing."

"Would have been a damn sight more interesting than this," Bentley retorted. "Although, it has to be a hoax, surely? There's no way a tiny laboratory in the depths of the arctic has found a workable cure."

"Why not? It's possible."

"When St Mungo's hasn't come up with anything at all in the last five months? Nor St Etienne's, nor the Carlos Institute, nor magical laboratories all over the developed world?"

"So? Just because their equipment isn't as up to date as ours doesn't mean they aren't capable. The evidence sounded conclusive to me."

"Not convinced."

"You never are, you sceptic."

Hughes merely sounded amused.

Intrigued by their conversation and without thinking properly, Hope shifted her foot and it made a crunching sound against the loose stones of the alley. Hughes didn't seem to notice, but Bentley whipped round at once.

"What?"

"I heard a noise behind us."

Hope's heartrate accelerated madly, but Hughes gave an exaggerated groan. "Look, just because you are Auror Thomas Bentley and achieved the highest grade ever recorded for your Stealth and Tracking assessments, bla bla bla, does not mean every tiny noise means imminent threat. Tonks was right - you are starting to act like Mad-Eye Moody."

"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you."

Hughes scoffed again. "Come on, let's do another patrol if you're that bored. Maybe we'll find a rogue Hogwarts student to shout at and send back up to school with their tail between their legs. You enjoyed that the other week, you know you did."

Still grumbling half-heartedly, Bentley followed his colleague further up the street. Hope let out the breath she had been holding, her heart still thumping, then, as soon as their footsteps has died away, sprinted back up to school.

"Well?"

Dom and Hope both looked up as Roxanne emerged from the stall of the bathroom in which they were barricaded.

"Negative." Roxanne's whole body had sagged with relief. "Definitely negative."

"Thank God for that."

Roxanne held up the beaker of potion with a look of mingled disgust and delight. "It would have gone white if I was pregnant," she said, tipping the bile green liquid down a sink. "So we're all good."

"Promise us," Dom said severely, as the last dregs of the potion drained away. "Promise us you won't be so stupid ever again. Not even if you're with the most beautiful boy in the world."

"I promise," Roxanne said, and this time, Hope knew she was deadly serious.

"Thanks again for going, Hope," Roxanne said, humble and contrite for once. "I appreciate it, honestly. I owe you one big time. Did you see anyone in Hogsmeade?"

"Couple of Aurors." Now that the most pressing issue was out of the way, Hope recounted to her friends about overhearing Hughes' and Bentley's conversation.

"...and they said something about a cure being found in Siberia! Aurors have been sent to check it out."

"Siberia?" Roxanne repeated. "Are you sure? That's a strange place to have found a cure."

"Positive. At least, I'm sure that's what they said. I was only a few metres away from them. Auror Bentley sounded sceptical about it though."

"Doesn't sound likely to me," Dom agreed. "Probably a hoax or maybe people being overly optimistic."

June

The year drew to a close in its usual haze of activity. Ravenclaw, led by Dom, won the quidditch cup for the third year in a row, much to everyone else's displeasure, although even Roxanne grudgingly admitted that Dom's leadership had been exceptional, leaving the other houses standing.

"Maybe I can make you vice captain," Dom said to Hope, after their last practice of the year. "Like Cal did for me, you know."

Hope felt a surge of excitement at the idea of having a point of focus, one that she would be genuinely good at, but dampened it down with reluctance.

"That was different," she said. "You were the oldest player on the team when Cal left and there was no one else even in the running for captain. Daphne and Philip are both older than me. They'd be offended if I was put in charge of them, don't you think?"

"Philip's only played with us for one season," Dom protested. "He'd never expect to be captain. And even Daph surely knows you're the better player. You score more goals and you were on the main team before she was."

Hope shook her head.

"People still might resent it," she said. "More ill feeling is the last thing we need right now."

"I suppose," Dom sounded disappointed. "I'll still consider you my vice captain, though, even if it's not official. Flitwick would have to be an idiot not to make you captain once I leave."

Hope smiled vaguely, trying to squash down the feeling of anxiety that was starting to overcome her every time she remembered that Dom and Roxanne only had one more year left at school, and that when they left, the two people she relied on daily for support, laughter and companionship would be gone from her school life forever.

As they had heard nothing at all about a possible cure in the weeks that had followed her illicit trip into Hogsmeade, Hope supposed that the cure found in the arctic must indeed have been a hoax. Despite this, there were occasional snippets of good news filtering through from the outside world. Transmission of the illness in the muggle world had dropped significantly, and people were now being allowed out of quarantine.

"We'll be back to normal by the summer holidays, I bet!" she overheard Alec Peters saying with confidence to one of his friends as they passed by her in the corridor. "Things are dying down already. Places will reopen and we won't have to worry about staying away from muggles anymore. We can go wherever we want. I bet that Crow person is feeling pretty stupid now. Hardly anyone's getting sick at the moment!"

Hope was not convinced. Nothing about the attitude of those she respected most – her family, the Weasleys, The Potters, The Longbottoms, Flitwick and Vector - was reassuring. Her parents' and Teddy's letters remained full of requests that she be extra careful, and she knew that Dom, Roxanne and James were all receiving correspondence of a similar nature. Molly and Lucy Weasley would be staying with her parents for quite a lot of the summer, as Percy was busy at work and Audrey would be in Ireland looking after her non-magical parents. Most students continued to worry about the situation for their muggle relatives, and they also regularly saw the teachers in groups together, talking in low voices with concerned expressions on their faces.

It didn't seem to Hope as though the chaos was dying down at all. In her opinion, it had only just begun.

When the news had come through about the discovery of a cure in a tiny, rudimentary laboratory in the depths of the Arctic, scepticism had reigned far and wide. Yet the confirmations coming back in we're undeniable. The United States, Russia, China, India, and now the UK had confirmed that it held all the components of a workable cure. Further testing would be carried out in more advanced settings, but the outlook was positive now for a widespread medical turn around.

"St Mungo's are receiving a thousand doses in two days to be extensively tested, and then we'll be replicating it," Kinglsey informed Harry. "Once we're sure they can be rolled out to muggle laboratories in big enough quantities, I will tell the muggle Prime Minister. I'm not doing that yet. The Russian Ministry has already informed their president, which seems premature to me."

"Yes. Definitely hold off for now."

Harry did not appear thrilled about the new development, which Tonks commented on later, catching him on his own on the way to his office.

"I want to believe it," Harry sighed. "Maybe I'm an idiot for not believing it. Or maybe Bentley's scepticism is rubbing off on me. To me it feels... too ideal."

"Don't fall into the trap." Tonks warned.

"What trap?"

"The trap of thinking that in darker times every stroke of luck is too good to be true. There's a difference between being realistic and being blinded by pessimism or suspicion. One Mad-Eye Moody is enough for a lifetime."

He patted her on the shoulder, not fooled by her off-hand tone, knowing that for all his quirks and for all the years that had passed since his death, she still missed her old mentor, particularly in times like this.

"I'll try and adopt your outlook. And," he grimaced. "We'll need it a bit of optimism. Our test results came back an hour ago from St Mungo's."

Her heart sank. She hadn't been worried about being cursed up until then, knowing that it couldn't make her sick. Now it was a reality, the thought of being afflicted with an illness that could kill any muggle she came into contact with was nauseating. She felt dirty. Tainted. Her hands, which had felt normal just seconds ago, now crawled with the sensation of an unpleasant film of grime.

"Have I got it?"

Occasionally, maybe there was such a thing as a stupid question. Harry's expression already said it all.

"I do too," he said. "And Gunnar, Cragg, Whitlock and Fairbourne. The rest of the team are fine for now. We're going to divide the office as best we can so that those unaffiliated are less likely to come into contact with it. Unfortunately, we still have almost no idea how it gets passed from wizard to wizard. Healers are convinced it doesn't transmit like a common cold as it does for muggles, but they have yet to discover the specifics."

"I'm surprised there's only six of us contaminated," Tonks said. "I thought the entire Ministry would have it by now. I wonder if I've passed it on to Remus." As she said it a horrible, sickening thought skewered her mind and she jerked out her arm to catch his sleeve.

"Harry - it wouldn't affect Remus differently, would it? If he got it. With his Lycanthropy?"

Sympathy clouded his green eyes and she knew already that this was a question he couldn't answer.

"Teddy might know?" he offered. "Or his friend Jessye. She's done loads of research into how victims are affected depending on their genetic make up."

"Yeah. You're right. Maybe I'll ask them."

In truth, Tonks had not planned on asking them at all, too proud to admit her fears to those who, despite their age, important jobs and undeniable maturity, she still considered to be children. But when she returned to the house later she found Teddy, Jessye and Victoire enjoying the last rays of sunshine in the back garden, Victoire lying with her head on Teddy's legs, both of them laughing at one of Jessye's animated stories.

Tonks smiled to herself at the sight, fondness for the trio creeping through her. Jessye and Teddy had been close from day one at Hogwarts, and she and Remus had enjoyed getting to know her over numerous summertime visits. In fact, Tonks had been convinced that the pair would end up dating, and had been mildly surprised at her son's confession, upon graduating, that he was smitten with Victoire. Remus, for his part, claimed to have seen said development coming long before. (Honestly, Tonks had thought. Could he not have displayed similar intuition into their own relationship?). Several years on, it was heartening to see Teddy maintaining his school friendships into adulthood. Charlie Weasley aside, Tonks had stayed in touch with none of her former school mates, and deep down she suspected that Hope was experiencing similar struggles forging links with her peers.

Jessye waved as she stepped out into the garden, and Teddy noted the dejected slump to her shoulders at once. He shifted over to make room for her on the rug they had laid out.

"What's up Mum?"

There was no point tiptoeing round the subject.

"I've got the curse in my blood," she said, sitting down beside him. "The tests came back today."

All three of them groaned in sympathy.

"That's horrible."

"I'm sorry, Tonks."

"Mum, remember you've got a really high MDI," Teddy reminded her, somewhat surprised by how badly she was taking the news. "You can't get ill from it. And you haven't been in close contact with muggles for ages so I doubt you've contaminated anyone else."

"Oh I'm not worried about me. I know the chances are slim, but you go over in your mind every person you've passed in the street and wonder if they were magical enough to resist it."

"I know."

"I was also thinking. Wondering." She hated herself for showing weakness in front of them, but as Harry had suggested, they may well know the answer to sooth her worries. "Would the curse affect werewolves differently to other wizards?"

"Ah, you're worried about Dad." Teddy understood immediately, and like Harry was unable to provide an answer. He turned to Victoire and Jessye for confirmation.

"It shouldn't affect him any differently," Victoire said, sitting up straighter and reaching for her cardigan. The sun had now set and the air was cooling quickly. "All our understanding at the moment points to the harmful effects of the curse being triggered by low levels of magic. Nothing else."

Jessye concurred. "Obviously it's a niche demographic," she said. "To my knowledge, no tests have been carried out on werewolves. But in theory if the MDI is high, you won't get sick. The lower it is, the sicker you will get. Has Remus ever had his MDI measured?"

"Yes, he had a general check up last year. It was around one six five. Same as mine."

Jessye goggled at her in disbelief. "You both have an MDI of a hundred and sixty five? You and your family are ridiculous," she informed Teddy. 'What next? Hope for Minister of Magic?"

"Nah, she's our budding quidditch star," Teddy said fondly.

"Anyway who are you to talk?," Victoire said to Jessye, brushing a stray blade of grass out of her glorious hair. "Miss 'three published studies before the age of twenty-five".

"Plus you'll probably come up with a second cure any day now," Teddy added.

At this, Jessye sobered. "You know we weren't even close," she said. "It's just as well this cure has been found. I dread to think how long it would have taken otherwise."

July

The message came exactly the same way as the first one, in a small innocuous envelope addressed to the Minister of Magic. The holographic image spiralled out of it the second it was opened, giving rise to the form of a fully grown man with a waxy face and sunken features. More cryptic than the last, The Crow's message was nevertheless plain enough to be an unwelcome turn of events.

"You had my warning. You surely knew this was coming. And at this moment, as you sit in your offices listening to this message, preparations take place all over the world to save the muggles as you so desperately want. You claim that you care for them as much as for the magical community. You claim equality between the two races. But let me ask you this - would you risk the health of magical people to save them? Somehow, I think not. And when you realise what My cure - for yes, it is my cure - really does, your true loyalties will be laid bare for all to see."

OOO