Phoenix Rising, Part 2

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: SS/RL

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Hob, who belongs to William Mayne; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, and Phoenix Reborn.

Summary: The teachers and children return to Hogwarts for another school year.
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Dylan was relieved to be back at school, even if he would have to face Draco Malfoy every day. He was tired of being cooped up in his great-uncle's house; at least at school he would have more freedom, and he was happy to see his friends again, although he wondered how many of their parents were Death Eaters, or at least sympathizers of Voldemort. But his best friend Damien's parents had never "joined up" (as Damien put it), so at least he didn't have to worry about Damien giving him knowing looks or pestering him for details about Death Eater meetings the way Draco did.

The older students were already seated in the Great Hall, chattering with each other as they awaited the arrival of the first-years and the Sorting Hat. Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan saw Hermione sitting at the Gryffindor table; she flashed him a quick smile, then looked away. He still regretted that he'd been forced to end their friendship, but at least she understood now why he'd done it, and no longer hated him. Then his eyes widened and he momentarily forgot about Hermione as the teachers filed in and took their places at the head table. There was Dumbledore, of course, as well as Snape, Flitwick, and the other staff members. But there were two new faces...the first face took Dylan's breath away. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with waist-length black hair and piercing green eyes; she was dressed in dark green robes, and an enormous raven perched on her shoulder and stared at the assembled students with a baleful look in its black eyes. But it was not the woman's beauty or the raven's sinister stare that made Dylan's mouth drop open--it was the fact that he recognized her. He had seen her before in Snape's memories during their Occlumency lessons; she was the teacher who had praised a teenaged Snape in class. From that memory, and his mother's descriptions, he could guess who she was--this was the infamous Professor Blackmore. Dylan was so dumbfounded, and Blackmore was so striking--she had a commanding presence that seemed to draw every eye in the room to her--that he almost didn't notice the man walking behind her, who seemed to have a much more quiet and low-key presence, as reflected by his robes, which were a muted shade of bluish-gray. But then he saw the man's face, and his jaw dropped again. That face, too, he recognized from Snape's memories--it was the long-haired teenage boy that young Snape had been spying on. The boy was now a man, and his brown hair was streaked with gray, but it was clearly the same person.

"Who's THAT?" Dylan demanded of Damien, pointing at the head table.

Damien thought he was pointing at Blackmore, and said, "I don't know, but she's gorgeous, isn't she?"

"No, not her," Dylan said impatiently. "That's Professor Blackmore." Damien gave him a startled look, and he hastily lied, "I've, uh, seen pictures of her in my mother's school scrapbooks. And yes, she is gorgeous, but I was wondering who that man is. The one sitting next to Professor Snape?" Because Blackmore and the mysterious man from Snape's memories had taken seats at the table on either side of the Potions Master. Snape gave his former teacher a curt nod, but he glared at the man seated beside him with a look of loathing usually reserved only for Harry Potter.

"Oh, that's Professor Lupin," Damien replied. "He taught here the year before you came, but--"

"But he was thrown out because he turned out to be a werewolf," Draco snarled. "What's he doing back here?! If my father were here--"

"But he's not here, is he, Malfoy?" a seventh-year boy sneered. Apparently, with his father in disgrace, Draco had lost some of the authority he held over Slytherin House, which was not surprising, since he treated everyone, even the older students, with an arrogant, high-handed manner. Since everyone feared Lucius Malfoy, they had also feared to antagonize his son, but now that Lucius Malfoy was imprisoned in Azkaban...

Draco glared at the boy and hissed, "Just you wait till my father gets back--Azkaban won't be able to hold him for long! And then you'll be sorry!"

The seventh-year boy was not impressed, but many of the other Slytherin students exchanged nervous glances. Everyone knew now that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, and they had all heard stories about how ruthless the Death Eaters had been in the old days. They silently agreed that perhaps it would be still be prudent not to offend Draco, after all.

Damien was among those who looked nervous. He shrugged slightly; he didn't seem to be particularly upset about Professor Lupin's return, but he clearly didn't care to openly contradict Draco. He gave Dylan a look that said, "We'll talk about it later..."

Professor McGonagall walked in with the Sorting Hat, which sang the same song it had last year, the one that warned that the Houses must unite or "crumble from within". Dylan glanced at his housemates, and at the other tables; while many of the students--like Draco--looked bored or scornful, many more looked uneasy, and a few looked thoughtful. Perhaps now that the Dark Lord's return could no longer be denied, they were taking the Sorting Hat's warning more seriously.

The first-years were sorted, and Dumbledore made his opening speech, closing with, "I would like to introduce our two new faculty members, although actually they are not new at all, but rather, old friends who are returning after too long an absence. First, I'm sure that many of you remember Professor Lupin, who is resuming his old post as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor." Professor Lupin stood briefly and nodded, a pleasant smile on his face. There was enthusiastic applause, except from the Slytherin table. A few of the younger Slytherins started to clap until Draco glared at them menacingly, and they hastily let their hands fall into their laps. "And next, Professor Blackmore, whom you have never met before, but she taught many of your parents." Professor Blackmore also stood and nodded, although she did not smile as Lupin had, but merely let her gaze sweep across the hall with a look of cool appraisal before she took her seat. An excited buzz of conversation filled the room as the children whispered to each other. How could Professor Blackmore possibly have taught their parents, when she was obviously younger than most of their parents were?

"Was she some kind of child genius?" Damien muttered incredulously. "She'd have to have been teaching in diapers!"

"I remember my mother talking about Professor Blackmore," Dylan said. "But she'd have to be in her late forties by now--"

"No way is she forty!" Damien exclaimed, and several of their classmates murmured in agreement.

Draco had looked as shocked as everyone else, but he scowled and gave Damien a contemptuous look. "Use your brain, Pierce!" he snapped. "Dark Magic can be used to preserve youth or enhance beauty! For all we know, it could just be a simple glamor spell!"

"That's a pretty damn convincing glamor," Damien said, still staring open-mouthed at Blackmore, and Crabbe and Goyle nodded vigorously.

"She's old enough to be your mother!" Pansy Parkinson snapped, giving the boys a miffed look.

"She can mother me all she likes," Damien said with a suggestive leer.

"You're disgusting!" Pansy said, but then Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, and the students all fell silent.

"Professor Blackmore will be teaching Incantations and Summonings, which has just been restored to the curriculum after a fifteen-year absence," the Headmaster said. "However, this is considered an advanced class, and will be open only to third-years on up, due to the fact that it requires prior experience in spell-casting and rune-making, and because of the slight element of risk involved."

The first and second-years let out a collective groan. "Risk?" Damien asked, a little nervously.

"It's no big deal," Dylan said nonchalantly; his mother had told him a great deal about her elemental-summoning project, since that was where her romance with his father had begun. "If the spell isn't performed properly, the creature you're summoning could break free and cause harm." Now nearly all the Slytherins were staring at him wide-eyed; Draco shot him a sullen, slightly jealous look--he didn't like it when Dylan stole the spotlight from him. Dylan gave him an apologetic smile and said dismissively to his housemates, "But Blackmore always uses safeguards--or so my mother says--and they probably won't let us summon anything dangerous, anyway."

Dumbledore said, "Let the feast begin!" and the tables were suddenly laden with savory dishes, and the students turned their attention to their meals. Dylan ignored the mindless gossip of his housemates, about how they had spent their summers or who was dating whom, and let his eyes drift back to the head table. Professor Blackmore's return was quite intriguing, but right now he was more interested in Professor Lupin; Dylan was curious to know why Lupin had such a prominent place in Snape's memories. He did not really look that much different from the glimpses Dylan had caught of him during the Occlumency lessons--although there was gray in his hair, and a few lines on his face, he still looked quite young and boyish, with a mischievous gleam in his light blue eyes. And his hair was still long and falling across his face in untidy strands; he kept brushing it back out of his eyes, and every time he did so, Snape would shoot him an annoyed look, for some reason. Snape said something to Lupin that Dylan couldn't hear; no doubt some snide insult, judging by the expression on Snape's face. But Lupin didn't look offended, and just smiled at Snape in a bright, cheery manner, and Snape looked even more annoyed than before. He glared at Lupin, then turned away and began conversing with Professor Blackmore. Lupin looked out across the room, and for a moment, his eyes seemed to rest on Dylan, and he smiled. Then he turned his attention back to the head table, and began talking to Professor Flitwick, leaving Dylan to wonder if he'd imagined the whole thing. Perhaps he had really been looking at someone else in the same general direction, and Dylan had only thought Lupin was looking at him. After all, he had never met Lupin before, so there was no reason for the new teacher to smile at him or even recognize him at all. Perhaps he might have noticed Dylan's resemblance to his father, but from Snape's memory, it seemed like Lupin had probably been a Gryffindor, so why would he be smiling at the son of a Slytherin Death-Eater...?
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Snape glared at Lupin as he pushed his hair back from his face for the umpteenth time. {Why doesn't he just tie it back?} Snape grumbled to himself. It wasn't that he didn't like Lupin's long hair; the problem was that he liked it too much. Every time Lupin's hair fell across his face, Snape had to repress a nearly irresistible urge to reach over and brush it out of Lupin's eyes, to run his hands through Lupin's gold-and-silver hair. He wondered if Lupin was deliberately letting his hair fall forward; the werewolf could be such a little tease at times...

"It's nice of you to agree to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus, Severus," Branwen was saying, a hint of mischief in her green eyes belying the otherwise solemn expression on her face.

Snape glowered at her; were the two of them conspiring to get on his nerves?! "I only agreed to do it because the Headmaster ordered me to," he growled. He turned to Lupin and added with a sneer, "Besides, we wouldn't want the children getting mauled by a werewolf. You gave them quite a scare last time, Lupin. Do try to refrain from howling at the moon this time, will you?"

Lupin just gave him a cheerfully inane smile and said in the chirpy tone that he knew always annoyed Snape to no end, "I have every confidence in your potion-brewing skills, Severus. I am sure the nights of the full moon will pass quite peacefully; the wolf wants nothing more than to lie beside the fire, chew on a juicy bone, and perhaps be scratched behind the ears."

The Potions Master flushed and gave Lupin a menacing look, his black eyes silently threatening, {You'll pay for that later!} Lupin quickly turned away before he started laughing; he did love teasing Severus, and the wolf found the threat more exciting than intimidating. Severus's idea of "punishment" was a blissfully sweet torture that involved him kissing, caressing, and making love to Lupin at a maddeningly slow and deliberate pace until Lupin finally lost control (which truthfully, did not take long) and began begging him for release. {And Severus calls ME a tease,} Lupin thought with amusement. Still, Severus rarely tortured his lover for long, because he usually lost control himself when the werewolf began growling and baring his teeth...Lupin quickly cut off that line of thought before he lost control of the wolf and gave away their cover by jumping Severus right there at the dinner table.

To distract himself, he looked out across the hall at the students, many of whom gave him friendly, welcoming smiles; it seemed that most of them didn't hold his lycanthropy against him. He turned his gaze to the Slytherin table, wondering if he'd be able to recognize Dylan Rosier; he was quite curious about the boy who had managed to break through the Potions Master's armor...ah, there he was. There was absolutely no mistaking the boy, a perfectly blended combination of Evan's dark good looks and Ariane's poise and dignity. Lupin smiled, already feeling affection for the boy although he had never met him; Severus loved him, and that was enough to make Lupin care about him, too. Dylan's silver-gray eyes widened in surprise, and Lupin quickly looked away before anyone else noticed and wondered why he was staring at the Slytherin boy. He would have to be careful; Dylan was clearly as perceptive as Severus had claimed, and might notice more than Lupin intended him to, more than was safe for him to know...
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As soon as they were alone in their dorm room, Dylan asked Damien, "All right, so what's the story with Professor Lupin? Why was Snape giving him the evil eye?"

"I'm more curious about Professor Blackmore," Damien said with a grin. "I'll give you the scoop on Lupin, if you tell me what you know about her."

"Fine," Dylan said, trying to hide his impatience before his friend began wondering why he was so curious about Lupin. "You first."

"Well, I don't know all the details, mind you," Damien said, "but I hear Lupin was a Gryffindor and a friend of Potter's father to boot--and we all know how much Snape hates Potter. Hated his dad, too, when they were kids, at least that's what my mother says."

Dylan nodded. "My mother said the same thing."

"Didn't know he was a werewolf until Snape exposed him, but looking back, it makes sense. He was always getting sick; we didn't notice till afterwards that he always got sick near the full moon." Damien frowned slightly. "He looks much better now, though; I wonder why? He always looked like he was ready to collapse when he was teaching here before. And his robes aren't all patched and faded like they used to be; I guess it's tough for werewolves to get work. Maybe Dumbledore gave him an advance on his wages so he could get some decent clothes."

"Could be," Dylan agreed. "What was he like as a teacher?"

"Don't tell Draco I said so," Damien warned, "but actually, he was pretty nice. He was always fair; even though he was a Gryffindor, he never favored them or gave us a hard time. And his lessons were always fun." He laughed as he told Dylan the story about how Lupin had taught his third-years to use the Riddikulus spell on a boggart, and how Neville Longbottom's spell had resulted in a Snape-boggart dressed in his grandmother's clothes. "I only wish I'd been there to see it!"

Dylan chuckled and shook his head. "No wonder Snape hates him!"

"Anyway, Lupin was the best DADA teacher we ever had, despite what Draco says. I mean, Lockhart was useless, and Umbridge's class was a total of waste of time. I suppose we did learn stuff in Moody's class, but..." Damien's voice trailed off, and Dylan grimaced. He had hated Moody, because Moody was the Auror who had killed his father, only it turned out that it wasn't Moody at all, but an impostor. Damien cleared his throat and said, "Anyway, I'm kind of glad Lupin's back, but like I said, don't tell Draco that."

"Your secret's safe with me," Dylan said lightly. So Lupin had been one of Snape's childhood enemies...it was difficult to tell, from the brief glimpses he had seen in Snape's memories, but Dylan thought there was more to it than that. There had been a very odd look in young-Snape's eyes as he spied on young-Lupin near the lake...

"So tell me about the lovely Professor Blackmore," Damien said, interrupting Dylan's thoughts.

Dylan grinned, setting aside his musings for another time. "Don't get your hopes up, Romeo! You might not think her so lovely once you hear my mother's stories about her."

"Like what?" Damien asked eagerly.

"Like all the students lived in fear of her, just like we do Professor Snape."

"No way!"

"Ask your mum, if you don't believe me. They used to say she has demon blood..."
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Dylan found that most of his Slytherin yearmates shared Damien's opinion of Lupin, although they were too cowed by Draco to say so publicly. The Gryffindors, with whom they were sharing their DADA class, had no such reservations and were openly delighted to see him.

"Good morning," Lupin said cheerfully, as he walked into the classroom.

"Good morning, Professor!" the Gryffindors chorused heartily. The Slytherins mumbled inarticulate greetings, trying not to appear too enthusiastic, but it seemed that Lupin saw through their facade, because he smiled at them, a mischievous little twinkle in his eyes. A few of them smiled back shyly.

"I'm very pleased to be back at Hogwarts teaching all of you again--" Lupin began.

"We're pleased to have you back, Professor!" Ginny Weasley said, and her housemates nodded emphatically.

"Suck-ups," Damien muttered under his breath, but without much rancor, because he was secretly just as glad to have Lupin back.

Lupin's eyes flickered over in their direction, and Damien gulped and slid down in his seat, but Lupin just smiled and winked at him. Dylan marveled at the sight; Snape would probably have handed out a detention or deducted at least ten points for that remark, and he probably would have deducted twenty points for Ginny's interruption. Of course, it was extremely unlikely that a Gryffindor would ever interrupt Snape to tell him that they were happy to see him!

"Well, teaching most of you again," Lupin corrected himself. "I see we have a new face in this class. You must be Dylan Rosier?"

"Yes, sir," Dylan said politely.

"I went to school with your father," Lupin said pleasantly. "You look very much like him--and like your mother, too, of course."

Dylan stared at Lupin wide-eyed, and an uneasy murmur rippled through the classroom. Everyone knew that Dylan's father had been a Death Eater, but no one--not even his housemates, except for Draco--discussed it openly. Was Lupin taunting him? But there was no malice in Lupin's blue eyes, and he was smiling at Dylan in a friendly, good-natured way.

Lupin ignored the murmurings of his students, and said, "This class is called Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that is precisely what we will be concentrating on this term: defense. You will learn protective magic, counter-curses, shield spells, stunning spells..."

"No boggarts?" someone muttered sarcastically from the back of the room. Dylan recognized the voice as Brad Doherty's; he was not in Draco's inner circle, but he was a hanger-on who was constantly toadying up to Draco. A few of the Slytherins snickered, and even a few Gryffindors smiled, perhaps thinking of the Snape-boggart Damien had mentioned.

"No, Brad, not today," Lupin said, still smiling pleasantly. Then his expression turned serious, and he said to the snickering and smiling students in a soft but stern voice, "This is no laughing matter. I am not teaching you these things merely to fulfill your course requirements, or even to prepare you for your O.W.L.s, but for your own protection. With Voldemort returned--" The entire class gasped in horror at hearing the Dark Lord's name spoken aloud. "--it is imperative that you learn to defend yourselves. Working towards that aim, the first spell you will be learning is the Patronus Charm. It is a very advanced spell, but I believe you are up to the challenge."

The class, much subdued after Lupin's lecture, listened attentively as he taught them the incantation and explained that they must concentrate very hard on a single, happy moment. Dylan hesitated for a moment over which memory to choose; most of his happy memories had dark clouds hanging over them: his pleasure at Goewin naming him as her heir had been shadowed by the knowledge that his uncles had conspired to rape her; his growing closeness to Professor Snape had come about only because he had been forced to join the Death Eaters; and his relief that Hermione no longer hated him was tempered by the fact that it was still impossible for them to resume their friendship. Finally, he decided that the moment he had learned of his admission to Hogwarts was probably his last moment of pure, unadulterated happiness before his growing doubts about the Death Eaters had begun to disturb his conscience and his peace of mind. He concentrated on that feeling of joy and triumph, pictured in his mind the pride in his mother's eyes as tears of happiness streamed down her face... "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. A little silvery wisp emerged from the end of his wand.

"That's it?" he said in a disgruntled tone. Dylan had no false modesty; he knew he was a talented mage, he had been the top student of his age group for two years in a row, and he was used to being able to perform difficult spells with ease. This rather pathetic attempt at casting a Patronus came as somewhat of a blow to his pride. Still, he was doing better than Damien and most of his other classmates, who had not managed to conjure up so much as a wisp.

Lupin appeared at his side and smiled. "That's very good for a first try, Dylan. As I mentioned earlier, it is a very advanced spell, not usually taught to fifth-years."

Dylan felt a little better, until he noticed that Colin Creevey had managed to conjure up a fair-sized silver mist, and Ginny Weasley had actually conjured up a silvery cat! It was transparent and a bit wispy around the edges, but still, she had produced a recognizable Patronus on her first try! Was he really being outperformed by a couple of Gryffindors?!

His outrage must have been visible on his face, because Lupin looked amused. But he laid his hand on Dylan's shoulder in a kindly manner and said, "Don't feel bad. They've practiced this spell before."

"They have?" Dylan asked as he looked up at Lupin, startled. "But you said it's not taught to students our age--"

The corners of Lupin's lips twitched in amusement. "Not officially, no..."

"Dumbledore's Army!" Damien suddenly exclaimed, breaking off his unsuccessful attempts to cast the spell. He stared at the two Gryffindors, saying, "So that's what they were up to, with their little secret club!" Creevey and Ginny exchanged nervous looks.

"Unauthorized spell-casting!" Doherty snapped.

"Such extracurricular groups are no longer banned," Lupin said mildly, then smiled at Damien. "Very clever of you to figure it out, Damien; five points to Slytherin. Now, all of you get back to work, please."

Lupin walked off to assist another student, and Dylan said incredulously, "He gave points to Slytherin!"

Damien nodded and whispered, "I told you he was fair." Then he noticed Doherty watching them suspiciously, and said loudly, "Expecto Patronum!" Brad turned away and Damien said in a low voice, "We don't want Brad squealing to Draco that we're sucking up to Lupin." Dylan nodded. "Expecto Patronum!"

"Hey, I think I saw something that time!" Dylan said.

"Really?" Damien asked, beaming happily. "Expecto Patronum!"

By the end of the class, Damien had managed to successfully cast a small silver wisp, and Dylan had produced a larger, though still vague, silver cloud, earning another ten points for Slytherin. Brad Doherty, Dylan noted with satisfaction, had not managed to cast anything at all, not even the tiniest wisp.

As they left the classroom, Dylan was surprised to realize that he liked Lupin. Of course, as a Slytherin and the son of a Death Eater, he was quite aware that people could be two-faced, but Lupin seemed to be genuinely kind and good-natured. And he had doled out points to the students without any apparent regard to their Houses; anyone who had managed to produce a silver wisp had earned five points, and he had awarded Dylan ten, since his had been the most successful casting aside from Creevey and Weasley, who'd had the advantage of prior experience. But Dylan felt a bit guilty for liking Lupin when Snape hated him. {But then again, Snape hates almost everyone,} Dylan rationalized to himself. {It's not like I can go around hating everyone Snape hates!} He was still puzzled by Lupin's casual mention of his father, and was dying to ask him about it, but it would probably not be wise to be seen behaving in a friendly manner towards Lupin, in case word got back to Snape, or Draco, for that matter. Dylan sighed wistfully; maybe Lupin could have told him more childhood stories about his father...despite the darker things he'd learned about Evan Rosier's past, he still loved his father and longed to know more about him. It was probably a hunger that would never truly be satisfied, since Dylan would never have the chance to meet his father, but Ariane's and Snape's stories about Evan made Dylan feel a little closer to him, somehow.

Dylan did not notice Lupin staring after him with a very thoughtful expression on his face.
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Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed to Incantations and Summonings class, feeling excited and anxious at the same time. It was exciting to be among the first students allowed to learn Summonings spells in fifteen years, but on the other hand...

"You've seen the way Snape and Sirius cringe whenever she so much as raises her voice," Ron said glumly. "If Snape's bad, how much worse must she be when she gives out detention?"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "She's a perfectly nice person; we lived in the same house with her for the last two months, and she didn't turn any of us into toads."

"She says toads are passe," Harry mumbled, recalling her words the day she and Lupin had met him at the station. He found them more ominous than reassuring.

"I'm sure she's a strict teacher," Hermione continued, "but as long as you stay out of trouble, you have nothing to worry about." She gave each of the boys a hard look. "And you ARE going to stay out of trouble, aren't you?"

"We don't go looking for trouble--" Harry said defensively.

"Trouble comes looking for us," Ron finished. "Malfoy always--"

"You have to learn to ignore his insults," Hermione said, sounding annoyed. "When you let him get to you, you're only doing exactly what he wants. Don't forget that you're a prefect now, Ron Weasley!"

"I know," Ron replied, in a slightly whiny tone, "but Malfoy--"

"I'm sure Professor Blackmore can handle Malfoy," Hermione said smugly.

"I don't see why we've always got to be paired up with the Slytherins," Ron complained. "It's bad enough having Potions with them."

"Well, at least Blackmore won't favor them the way Snape does," Harry said, trying to sound consoling, although he was a little nervous as well.

The classroom was in one of the lower dungeon levels. It was a very spacious room, more than large enough to accommodate a double class. The students' desks were arranged in a semi-circle close to the walls, leaving an expanse of open floor between those desks and the teacher's desk at the head of the room.

The two boys looked a little puzzled. "Why so much open space?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Didn't you two even open your textbooks?" Hermione said, sounding impatient again.

"What, before school even started?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I was too busy studying that Potions textbook," Harry muttered.

"Most Summonings spells require a circle of protection to be inscribed on the floor," Hermione explained. "Hence, the open space."

"'Hence'?" Ron muttered. "Who on earth says 'hence' these days?"

"I suppose you can't expect someone raised by Muggles to know about Summonings spells," Draco Malfoy drawled in a condescending tone as he and his cronies sauntered into the room. He conveniently chose to overlook the fact that Hermione, a Muggle by birth as well as upbringing, seemed to know quite a bit about such spells.

"Like you know so much yourself," Ron sneered.

"Ron," Hermione said in a warning tone.

"I know plenty!" Draco retorted, flushing slightly. "My dad--"

Just then, Professor Blackmore strode into the room, slamming the door loudly behind her, and the students all jumped. "In your seats!" she said sharply. "Now!" Her commanding tone of voice was not unlike Professor Snape's at his scariest, and the children instinctively found themselves rushing to obey before they could even think about it. Once everyone was seated, she said in a cold and imperious voice, "There will be no horseplay, no passing of notes, and no gossiping in my classroom. The spells I will be teaching you are powerful ones, and can be dangerous if misused or cast incorrectly. I expect to have your full attention at all times, IS THAT CLEAR, MISS PATIL?"

Parvati Patil, who had been leaning over to whisper something to Lavender Brown, nearly jumped out of her seat as Blackmore suddenly raised her voice and swiveled around to transfix the girl with her cold, green stare. "Y-yes, Professor," Parvati said weakly.

Blackmore definitely had everyone's undivided attention now. Even the Slytherins looked cowed, Goyle and Crabbe in particular. Draco's two henchmen were staring at their teacher, eyes round and saucer-like with fascination and horror. No one seemed to find it surprising that she knew Parvati's name without doing a roll call; this teacher seemed like she was capable of almost anything, including perhaps reading minds or being able to see what was going on behind her back. Or perhaps it was Bane who was keeping an eye on the class from his perch on her shoulder, communicating telepathically with his mistress...

"You will be summoning nothing until I am convinced that you are ready," Blackmore continued. "First of all, you must learn the proper incantations, and how to draw the protective circles. And most importantly, you must learn about the creatures you intend to summon--their strengths, their weaknesses, and how to bargain for their services. Open your books to Chapter One..."

At the end of the period, the students left the classroom groaning at the amount of homework she had heaped upon them. "Read two chapters on air elementals, memorize a summoning incantation, go to the library and research protective runes," Ron complained. "She's just as bad as Snape!"

"If you budget your time wisely, it shouldn't be a problem," Hermione said in the slightly superior, lecturing tone that the boys found so irritating. "Are you using that homework planner I gave you last Christmas?"

"Come on, we've got to hurry or we'll be late for Lupin's class!" Harry said, evading her question, and Ron shot him a grateful look. Hermione sighed heavily to let him know that he wasn't fooling her, but said nothing else as they hurried up the stairs.

"Thank Merlin that we've got at least one nice teacher this year," Ron said, not knowing that Lupin was about to surprise them in a rather unpleasant way...
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"Why are we sharing our DADA class with Slytherin this year?" Ron complained loudly.

"I assure you, it's none of my doing, Weasley," Draco Malfoy said in a haughty voice. "I don't like it any better than you do."

"It was my decision, Ron," Lupin said in a cheerful voice as he entered the room. "Doubling up the classes gives me more time for office hours, in case any students need one-on-one tutoring--"

"You mean, in case some of the students," Draco sneered, shooting a meaningful glance in Neville Longbottom's direction, "are too incompetent to keep up in class."

"In case some of the students need extra help, yes," Lupin said mildly. "I am teaching all of my classes spells somewhat advanced beyond their grade levels, and there is no shame in asking for some help outside of class. But next time, please raise your hand if there is something you wish to say, Draco." Malfoy gave a little snort, but made no further comment, and Lupin continued in a pleasant voice, "And getting back to your original question, Ron, in light of the Sorting Hat's song, I also thought it might be a good idea to promote inter-House cooperation." The entire class, both Slytherin and Gryffindor, stared at him in disbelief. Lupin just smiled and gave them the same speech they would later learn he had given to all his other classes, about the importance of learning to defend themselves.

Draco yawned rudely during Lupin's speech, but Lupin either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. "We will begin with the Patronus Charm," Lupin said, winking at Harry, "which some of you have already had practice with." He told them how to cast the spell, then set them to work practicing it, while he slowly circled the classroom, observing their progress.

"Expecto Patronum!" Draco said, then scowled at his wand when nothing happened. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he repeated in a louder voice. This time a faint, silvery wisp emerged from his wand, and he smiled until he saw Harry and Hermione conjuring up full-fledged Patronuses--a shining silver stag and otter.

Ron could still only manage a nebulous silver mist, but he smiled smugly at the expression on Draco's face. "So, there are some things that a Muggle-born is better at than you, eh Malfoy?"

Draco flushed and snarled, "Shut your trap, Weasley! When my father--"

"What's your father going to do from Azkaban?" Ron sneered. "I may have been 'born in a bin,'" he said, referring to the song Draco had created to taunt Ron with last year, "but at least my father still has a respectable job at the Ministry, while yours--"

"Yours is a common criminal!" Harry finished vehemently, a look of fierce satisfaction on his face. "Now everyone knows what a low-life your father really is!"

Draco's face turned bright red, and Hermione looked worried, but before either of them could say anything, a voice behind them snapped, "Twenty points from Gryffindor!" All four of the children turned around to stare at Lupin in shock. "I'm very disappointed in both of you, Ron, Harry," Lupin said sternly. "Whatever bad blood there is between the three of you, I will not tolerate disruptive behavior in my class, and I will not allow you to make that sort of personal attack on a classmate's family members."

Harry just stared at Lupin with his mouth hanging open, while Ron stuttered, "B-but, M-Malfoy--"

"I don't need your help, werewolf!" Draco snarled furiously.

Lupin's gaze turned to the Slytherin boy, and he said coolly, "I don't care whether you need my help or not, Draco. I will not allow that kind of vicious, personal attack from anyone in any of my classes, be they Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff."

"B-but," Ron continued to stammer, clearly not knowing when to leave well enough alone, "y-you're a Gryffindor, and Malfoy's father--"

Now Lupin began to look angry, shocking the entire class; during the year he had spent at Hogwarts previously, they had never once seen him lose his temper, not even when Snape had exposed him as a werewolf. Although he was only lecturing Harry and Ron, everyone in the room stopped their spell-casting efforts to stare at him.

"In this classroom," Lupin said in a tone of voice more befitting Snape or Blackmore, "I am not a Gryffindor, but merely a teacher, and I treat all of my students equally!"

"But Snape always plays favorites--" Ron began to protest.

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry and Hermione hissed.

"I don't care what Professor Snape or the other teachers do in their classes," Lupin said firmly. "In my class, everyone will be treated equally and fairly." He paused and gave Draco an ironic little smile. "Whether they like it or not." Draco gave him an angry but slightly flustered look, and Lupin turned back to Harry and Ron. "If you have a problem with Mr. Malfoy, confront him about directly--outside of the classroom. But to attack someone by attacking their loved ones is both cruel and cowardly. I expected better from you two."

Harry and Ron flushed, and surprisingly, so did Draco, although Harry was not sure whether that was because he was embarrassed by Lupin implying that he was soft enough to feel love, or because he was reminded that he had made a similar cowardly attack on Ron last year with his song. Harry had a hard believing that Malfoy's conscience was bothering him--or that he even had a conscience at all.

Lupin stared at the three boys, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I think, in addition to the points taken off, I would like you to write me an essay, Harry and Ron, on how prejudice helped to bring about the Goblin Wars of the 1600s. At least twelve inches of parchment, due Friday."

"What does that have to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Draco muttered.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Are you volunteering to write the essay as well, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, sir!" Draco said hastily. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged incredulous looks; that was the first time that Malfoy had ever called Lupin "sir".

"All right," Lupin said, clapping his hands together briskly, "everyone get back to work!" The other students, who had stopped to stare at the confrontation, looked up guiltily, and began shouting, "Expecto Patronum!" with a great deal of vigor, if not much visible success.

Lupin walked off, and Draco stared at him with a puzzled look on his face. "The werewolf's not as soft as he seems," Draco muttered.

Crabbe and Goyle were scratching their heads, looking even more confused than their leader. Harry thought to himself darkly that the sight of Lupin sticking up for a Slytherin had probably overloaded their miniscule brains.

"Why'd he help you, Draco?" Crabbe asked in a bewildered voice.

"Oh, shut up, you stupid lout!" Draco snarled. "Who knows why a werewolf does anything? Get back to casting your spell! Expecto Patronum!" His forehead furrowed in concentration, and he smiled in a nasty way, perhaps imagining a time in which he had gotten the better of Harry. "Expecto Patronum!" This time a larger silvery wisp emerged from his wand.

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, shrugged, and returned to their futile efforts at casting the Patronus Charm. They were looking rather frustrated by the time Lupin had circled the room once and returned to their corner. He smiled at them in an encouraging manner, and said kindly, "It's an advanced spell; it takes awhile to get the hang of it." The two boys smiled at him hesitantly, until they saw Draco glaring at them, then they hastily turned their smiles into scowls. Lupin's mouth twitched slightly, and he seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh.

"We don't need help from a werewolf," Crabbe said loudly, and Draco slapped his forehead in frustration; he obviously hadn't intended for Crabbe to go that far.

"Ten points from Slytherin for speaking disrespectfully to a teacher," Lupin said in a stern voice, but his eyes were still laughing. He winked at Crabbe; Draco was too busy shaking his head to notice. Crabbe and Goyle looked even more befuddled than they had before. "However," Lupin continued, "if you did need help, I would remind you to concentrate very hard on that happy memory. For the charm to work, it must be a very strong memory, the happiest one you can remember."

Crabbe and Goyle frowned, appearing to be thinking very hard. {Is it really that hard for them to come up with a happy memory?} Harry wondered, and for a moment he almost felt sorry for them. Then he shook his head; was he going mad? How could he be feeling sorry for Crabbe and Goyle, Draco's toadies? After all, Crabbe was the one who had deliberately thrown the Bludger at him during last year's Quidditch match!

Then, almost simultaneously, their faces lit up, and they held out their wands, a look of intense (for them) concentration on their faces as they said, "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" Two tiny threads of silvery smoke emerged from their wands on their third try.

"Very good, Vincent, Gregory!" Lupin said in a hearty voice, as if they had conjured full-fledged Patronuses, and the two boys beamed. Draco gave them a disgusted look, but this time they didn't seem to notice. "Five points to Slytherin for each of you!"

Harry was relieved when class was finally over, although he would have never thought before this that he'd be so glad to leave Lupin's presence. He was mostly confused, although a little angry and resentful, but Ron was downright outraged.

"How could he favor those Slytherin gits over us?!" he exclaimed.

Hermione frowned at him. "He wasn't favoring them," she said, leaping to Lupin's defense. "If you add up all the points he handed out, Slytherin and Gryffindor come out about equal. We'd even be ahead if you hadn't lost those twenty points he deducted!"

Ron scowled. "We didn't say anything that wasn't true! Lucius Malfoy IS a criminal and a low-life!"

"Yes, but it's not really appropriate to bring it up in the middle of class," Hermione said, almost primly. "Not just to get a rise out of Malfoy."

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Harry asked, feeling a little hurt.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two are my best friends, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to agree with you when you're obviously wrong!"

"Wrong?!" Ron shouted. "Malfoy provoked us!"

"He does most of the time, but actually, this time you started the fight, Ron."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, then thought about it and realized that she was right, and he flushed. Harry felt a little ashamed, but at the same time, still stubbornly defiant. "Okay, maybe we were a little out of line, but how many times has Draco stepped over the line without being punished? And I don't remember Lupin ever deducting points from anyone during third year!"

"We didn't share this class with Slytherin during third year," Hermione reminded him. She paused to think, then said, "Do you really want Lupin to act the way Snape does? The way the other teachers do, to a lesser extent? Even McGonagall favors her own House a little during Quidditch season. Do you want Lupin to blatantly favor the Gryffindors the way Snape favors the Slytherins?"

"Well, no," Harry muttered, "but..."

"Someone ought to favor us," Ron mumbled sullenly, "to make up for the way Snape caters to the Slytherins."

"I don't want him to favor us," Harry finally said in a quiet voice. "But it seemed like he was going out of his way to be nice to the Slytherins."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Hermione asked. "The Sorting Hat says all the Houses have to unite, or Hogwarts will fall."

"I can't imagine us ever 'uniting' with Slytherin," Ron grumbled.

"Would you rather Hogwarts fall?" Hermione retorted.

"I don't see how uniting with Slytherin is supposed to help," Ron said. "They're all Death Eaters, anyway!"

"Not all of them!" Hermione snapped. "Maybe not any of them, even if their parents are involved with--"

"Still hung up on that Rosier kid even after he dumped you?" Ron sneered, and Hermione looked hurt and furious.

Harry stared at his two friends in alarm; it wasn't like Ron to act so nasty, but he really had a chip on his shoulder about Dylan Rosier, for some reason. He quickly interrupted, trying to distract both of them. "Having points taken off and being given extra homework I can handle. What I don't understand is why Lupin was so quick to defend Lucius Malfoy; I mean, he knows Malfoy is a Death Eater, and they're responsible for almost killing Sirius..."

The anger drained from Hermione's face, and was replaced by a thoughtful expression. "He wasn't really defending Lucius Malfoy," she said slowly. "He was defending Draco. Maybe Mr. Malfoy is a really rotten person, but still, he's Draco's father, so Draco must love him. It must hurt to hear people saying bad things about his father, even if they're true."

"It's not like Draco ever stops to think about hurting other people's feelings," Ron protested, but in a slightly subdued voice. "How many times has he said nasty things about my folks, or Harry's, or yours?"

"It doesn't matter what Draco does," Hermione said, quietly but firmly. "Acting that way makes you no better than him."

Phrased that way, Harry finally got it, and his face turned bright red. So did Ron's.

"Besides," Hermione continued, "maybe Professor Lupin's trying to get through to Draco, and turn him away from the path of the Death Eaters."

"Then he's wasting his time," Ron muttered.

"Maybe not," Hermione replied. "After all," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "everyone thought Professor Snape was a Death Eater."

Ron just snorted, but said nothing more as they headed to the Great Hall for lunch.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

After lunch, they had Potions. "This is shaping up to be a great day," Ron muttered sarcastically.

Draco and a few other Slytherins, including Theodore Nott, were in Snape's advanced class, but not Crabbe and Goyle. "Guess favoritism only goes so far," Harry observed. This class, unlike the others they had taken up until now, consisted not of one or two Houses, but of a handful of students from each of the four Houses: the ones who had gotten sufficiently high scores on their O.W.L.s and whom Snape had deemed worthy of being in his class. Even if Harry had gotten a perfect score on his exam, he couldn't imagine Snape willingly admitting him to this class, so he supposed that Dumbledore must have ordered him to admit Harry and Ron, as Hermione had implied. To Harry's absolute shock, Neville was in this class as well.

Neville smiled at Harry, looking proud and sheepish at the same time. "I did really well on my Potions exam," he said. "It wasn't so bad, without Professor Snape hovering over me and making me nervous. But I'm still surprised he let me into his class."

"You and me both," Harry replied, then Hermione glared at him, and he realized that had come out sounding a little rude. "Um, I mean I'm surprised Snape let ME in, too," he hastily clarified. "Considering how much he hates me and all."

Neville nodded, not looking offended at all, and Harry glanced around the room, curious to know who else had passed Snape's high standards (or who Dumbledore had forced Snape to take, depending on how you looked at it). From Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones had apparently made the cut, and smiled at Harry in a friendly way; they had all been members of Dumbledore's Army. Ravenclaw was represented by Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Parvati's sister Padma, and a quiet blonde girl named Lisa Turpin. The first three had all been members of Dumbledore's Army as well, but Ron was scowling a little at Michael. He had not liked the fact that Michael had been dating his sister last year, and although Ginny had broken up with him, he was still a little angry that Michael had "stolen" Cho from Harry, even though Harry had tried to assure him that wasn't how it had happened. He didn't even really miss Cho, although he felt a wistful little pang every now and then, but Ron seemed to take it personally. Harry smiled at his friend's loyalty, even if it was a bit misplaced.

As for Lisa Turpin, she seemed nice enough, but Harry regarded her a bit warily, since she had attended the Yule Ball with Dylan Rosier during fourth year, and had been rumored to have been dating him for awhile. If there had been any romance between them, it seemed to have fizzled out, but she was still friendly with him. Ron regarded this as "associating with the enemy," even though Hermione was friends--or had been friends--with Dylan as well. Harry didn't want to condemn her out of hand; after all, most of the Gryffindor girls seemed to be enamored of the Slytherin boy's good looks as well, but he didn't trust Dylan Rosier. He didn't hate him the way Ron did, but after all, his father had been a Death Eater, and there was something about Dylan's manner that Harry didn't like: he was never rude, in fact, he was always polite to Harry and even Ron, no matter how rudely Ron treated him, but he was a little too polite, a little too smooth and self-possessed. The polite little smile he always wore, the cool look in his silvery-gray eyes, seemed like a mask; Harry had no idea what lay behind it, and that was what disturbed him even more than Rosier's parentage.

Thinking about Dylan Rosier caused Harry's gaze to slide over to where the Slytherins were sitting on the opposite side of the room. Malfoy was there, of course, along with Nott (a weedy-looking boy with dark hair and a sullen expression on his face), Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Blaise Zabini. Blaise was a quiet, serious-looking boy with dark hair and eyes who did not appear to be one of Draco's hangers-on, and rarely said anything in class, so Harry did not know much about him. At least by virtue of his silence, he was less annoying than most of his Slytherin classmates.

Snape swept into the room and slammed the door behind him, much as Blackmore had. He paused at the front of the room to gaze at his class silently for a moment, then his black eyes came to rest on Harry, and his mouth twisted in distaste as he said, "Well, Mr. Potter, much to my surprise, you managed to get an acceptable grade on your Potions O.W.L. Which means that you must have been slacking off in my class for the last five years." He paused, allowing the Slytherins to titter and snicker. Snape's voice hardened as he continued, "I won't tolerate that sort of laziness and slipshod work in this class, do you understand me, Mr. Potter?" Harry was silent, fighting back the urge to say something that would earn him a detention. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, Potter!"

"Yes, sir," Harry said through gritted teeth as the Slytherins laughed again. He forgot the other side of Snape he'd seen during the summer, forgot--for the moment--how Snape had saved Sirius. {How could Lupin love a slimy git like you?} Harry wondered bitterly.

Snape's eyes narrowed, and Harry, remembering what Snape had told him about Legilimency, quickly averted his eyes. Snape looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then turned to Neville and said in a cold voice, "The same goes for you, Mr. Longbottom. Your previous standard of work in my class is simply unacceptable, despite the miracle that you managed to pull off on your O.W.L. If you do not show any improvement, you will not remain in this class; is that clear, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville turned ghostly white, but managed to look Snape in the eye and say firmly, "Yes, sir."

Snape's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "My, my," he said mildly. "Grown a spine over the summer, have we?" Neville's face turned red, the Slytherins outright howled with laughter, and Ron and Harry shot Snape evil looks, while Hermione gazed at him with a look of disappointment. Snape scowled, seeming to be more offended by Hermione's look than Ron's and Harry's, for some reason. "Enough!" Snape snapped, and the laughter instantly ceased. "There is no time for fun and games in this class!"

{Then why don't you leave off picking on Neville?} Harry thought angrily.

"The Headmaster wishes you to learn things that will be useful in combat and defense," Snape said with a sneer, looking rather peeved, and remembering Lupin's lecture, Harry wondered if that had actually been Lupin's idea. Was that why Snape looked so ticked off? But wasn't Lupin his lover? Was this nasty act really just an act? Trying to figure out which parts of Snape's personality were real and which were feigned was giving Harry a headache... "Are you paying attention, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, snapping back to reality at the sound of Snape's curt voice. "Combat and defense."

"Correct," Snape said, sounding disappointed that Harry didn't give him an excuse to take points off Gryffindor. "Your first assignment will be to brew a Healing Potion, which you will no doubt find quite useful, considering the amount of trouble you seem to stir up, Potter." Harry scowled and Snape smiled. "The instructions are on the blackboard," he said, flicking his wand in that direction, and the words magically appeared. He flicked his wand again, and the door of the stores cupboard popped open. "The ingredients are in the cupboard. Begin."

The potion, of course, was a complicated one--Snape would never assign them anything easy, even if this hadn't been his advanced class--and all the ingredients had to be prepared just so, or the efficacy of the potion would be lessened. Harry began slicing nettle leaves and stems, wincing as the tiny spines on the plant pricked and stung his fingers. Sticky sap oozed out from the stem pieces onto the cutting board. Snape slowly walked around the room, pausing by Harry's desk. "Slice those nettles more carefully, Potter," he said coldly. "You're wasting the sap, and if you lose too much of it, the potion won't work as it should." He smiled at Harry maliciously. "And you and your little friends suffer so many dangerous mishaps; it would be a pity if you or they ended up receiving a weakened or useless Healing Potion, wouldn't it, Potter?"

Harry dumped the nettle pieces into his cauldron, being careful to scrape the sap off his cutting board into the cauldron as well. He picked up a valerian root and began slicing it; Snape continued to hover over him, showing no inclination to move on. Harry ground his teeth together as he sliced and diced, finding it difficult to concentrate with Snape looming over him like that. Snape said in that soft, sarcastic voice he often liked to use on Harry, "You are losing control, Potter."

Harry looked up, startled. Those were almost the exact same words Snape had used during their Occlumency lessons! Was Snape just taunting him, or was he actually trying to help Harry? Harry stared at Snape; his mouth was curled in a sneer, but his black eyes were as blank and unreadable as Dylan Rosier's. Harry took several deep breaths, trying to let go of his anger, and resumed chopping roots. Snape watched him for another minute or two, but Harry ignored him, and Snape moved on to observe Neville. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but then felt sorry for his friend, and looked over to see how he was doing. Neville looked a little nervous, but was working with very slow and precise movements.

"You'll be at that all day if you don't pick up the pace a bit, Longbottom," Snape said sourly, apparently finding nothing else he could criticize and moved on. He scolded Justin and Susan for not chopping their roots finely enough, and growled at Michael to stir his potion more carefully, startling him and nearly causing him to knock over his cauldron, but no one made any disastrous mistakes. To Harry's surprise, Snape actually scolded Pansy Parkinson for adding too much lavender oil to her potion. The girl sulked, but did so silently, for not even the Slytherins dared to talk back to Snape. Hermione, of course, made no mistakes and brewed her potion perfectly. Snape scowled ferociously; obviously he was not going to give points to Gryffindor no matter how well Hermione did, which made Harry seethe at Snape's unfairness although Hermione looked unperturbed. Snape did loudly praise Draco's potion, of course, and awarded twenty points to Slytherin as Draco gloated smugly. Snape paused to examine Blaise Zabini's potion, and said, sounding a little surprised, "Well done, Zabini." Apparently even Snape tended to overlook the unassuming boy in class, even though he was one of Snape's Slytherins. "Ten points to Slytherin." Malfoy looked a little annoyed at that, and Blaise squirmed nervously.

Snape strode back to the front of the room, saying briskly, "Pour your potions into the flagons, label them, and bring them to my desk. They need to steep for a few days, and then perhaps we'll try them out and see how effective they are." He grinned sadistically as his students exchanged worried looks. "For your homework, read chapters six and seven of your text, and prepare a list of at least a dozen common herbs and their healing properties. Class dismissed."

"We'll be up all night doing all this homework!" Ron groaned.

Harry and Hermione ignored Ron's complaints, which were so familiar by now that they could almost automatically tune them out. "That's the first time I've ever really noticed Blaise Zabini in class," Harry said. "Snape actually praised him!"

"Yes, and Snape rarely praises anyone, even the Slytherins, except for Malfoy," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Blaise is a pretty good student; he's ranked in the top twenty-five percent of our age group for the last four years--"

"Do you have everyone's rank memorized, Hermione?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, and you aren't in the top quarter, Ron," she retorted. "Anyway, as I was saying, Blaise is a good student, but he's never really been outstanding in Potions before--"

"Dylan has been helping him," Lisa Turpin said quietly, as she came up alongside them. Harry and the others turned to give her a startled look. "Everyone knows that Dylan is Snape's best Potions student even though he's a year younger than us, and Blaise is his friend, so he helped Blaise study and pass his Potions O.W.L. last year."

"Well, you're awfully friendly with the Slytherins," Ron said, sneering a little.

"There's nothing wrong with that!" Lisa snapped, glaring at him. "Didn't you hear what the Sorting Hat said, about the Houses having to get along together? Do you think it would have changed its song if it wasn't important? Besides, Dylan's a nice person, and so is Blaise! Not all of the Slytherins are like Draco Malfoy!"

"That's right!" Padma chimed in as she joined the little group gathered in the hall.

"You're forgetting Dylan is Draco's buddy!" Ron said, giving the two Ravenclaw girls a disgusted look. "You're letting yourself be blinded by his pretty face!"

"Maybe you're just jealous, Ron Weasley," Padma said with a disdainful little sniff, "that Dylan is a hundred times more handsome and charming than you'll ever be!" She glared at him, perhaps recalling how Ron had ignored her at the Yule Ball two years ago. "Dylan is a gentleman who knows how to treat a lady--unlike you!"

Padma and Lisa stalked off in a huff, while Ron spluttered and called after them, "Women! You're so fickle! Whatever happened to that Beauxbatons boy you were so crazy about, Padma? Forgot about him as soon as someone new came along, huh?"

The girls ignored him, and Michael Corner and Terry Boot chuckled. "It does gets a little old, hearing all the time about how wonderful Dylan Rosier is," Michael said good-naturedly, "but he seems okay, for a Slytherin."

"Easy for you to say," Terry laughed, "when you don't have to compete with Dylan for the attention of all the eligible girls in school! You've already got Cho--" He hastily broke off his sentence when he saw Ron glaring at him.

"Listen, Potter," Michael said nervously, "I hope there's no hard feelings--"

"No hard feelings," Harry said firmly, ignoring Ron's look of outrage. "It was already over between Cho and me; I...I hope you guys are happy together." He was surprised to find that he meant it. He held out his hand, and Michael shook it, looking relieved, while Ron gawped at them.

"I'm really proud of you Harry," Hermione said as they continued on their way to their next class.

Harry grinned, feeling surprisingly lighthearted despite all the homework they had received and the misgivings he'd had about Lupin's treatment of the Slytherins. "It's no big deal; I'm totally over Cho."

"Really?" Ron asked.

"Really," Harry replied.

"Then you're an eligible man again!" Ron said, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders. "With plenty of eligible ladies to choose from!" Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, and Harry laughed.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

There was a knock at Snape's office door. "Come in," he said, looking up from the parchment on which he was scribbling notes for a future lesson.

"Professor?" Draco Malfoy asked. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yes, but make it quick." Snape glanced at the hourglass sitting on his desk. "It's almost time for dinner." And as soon as dinner was over, he could meet Lupin in his quarters...

"Yes, sir," Draco replied. "Professor Lupin did something odd today..." He explained how Lupin had defended him against Potter and Weasley, and had even taken points off Gryffindor. "What do you think it means, sir?"

Snape frowned, absent-mindedly tapping his quill against the parchment, dotting it with spots of black ink. What was Lupin up to? Did he really think he could get through to Draco Malfoy? {I thought he was going to leave that up to me,} Snape thought. Well, Lupin was a soft touch; he might feel sorry even for a boy as unpleasant as Malfoy, but still, Snape was surprised that he would take points off not only from his own House, but from his dear friend's son, the golden boy Potter. Besides, Lupin was so soft that Snape thought a student would have to burn down the classroom before the werewolf would take points from them; he usually let the brats off with a warning. But then again, they had both changed during the two years that had passed since Lupin had left Hogwarts...

Snape shrugged and said sarcastically, "It's not as if I can claim to know how a werewolf's mind works, Malfoy," and Draco flushed. "But Lupin has always been a bit of a bleeding heart; his concern was probably genuine."

"I don't need a werewolf feeling sorry for me," Draco said sullenly.

"Of course not," Snape replied coolly. "But remember what I said about keeping up a respectable appearance--it won't hurt to humor the werewolf a bit."

Draco looked indignant. "But--aren't you angry that he's back? Aren't you going to try to get rid of him?"

Snape gave Draco a sour look. "Everyone already knows that he's a werewolf; he doesn't have any other deep, dark secrets that I can expose." {Except that he's sleeping with the Potions Master,} Snape thought to himself with amusement. "Besides, werewolf or not, Lupin is softhearted and relatively harmless, unlike, say, Mad-Eye Moody..."

Draco's face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment as he remembered the bouncing ferret incident from fourth year. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Run along then, Mr. Malfoy, and try to stay out of trouble."

Draco paused at the door and said, "Sir? Have you...heard anything about when my father--?"

"I told you never to question our Master's judgment," Snape said in a quiet, deadly voice, and Draco turned pale.

"Y-yes sir, I know, but it's been so long..."

Snape rose from his seat behind the desk and glided over to Draco. "The Dark Lord waited over a decade before he rose again," he whispered menacingly, as Draco cringed away from him. "He probably thinks it won't hurt your father to wait a few months." Snape's voice rose to a more normal level. "And don't you ever mention such things again unless I give you permission! What if someone had overheard you?!"

"Y-yes, sir," Draco stammered. "I'm sorry, sir."

"All things happen in their proper time, Draco," Snape said, taking a step back. "Tend to your studies, and let your elders tend to...that other matter we discussed. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Get out of here before you're late for dinner, Malfoy."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Draco stomped off to the Great Hall, feeling rather cranky. Nothing had gone right for him since his father had been captured. He had tried to do as Professor Snape had suggested, and step up to be the "man of the family," but although his mother had smiled and thanked him for his efforts with a kiss on the cheek, she still looked pale and tense most of the time. Narcissa Malfoy rarely left the house anymore, because she couldn't stand the knowing looks people gave her on the street, and the way that former "friends" and acquaintances who had always deferred to her before now shunned her. One night during the summer, she had Disapparated, wearing her Death Eater robe, and when she returned, her face was ghostly white and filled with fear. Draco had thought he'd seen a spot of blood on the sleeve of her robe, but she had locked herself in her room and refused to talk about it. Draco, his ear pressed up against the door, had heard her weeping, and felt helpless. He was relieved when he had to depart for school, although he also felt guilty for leaving his mother alone, but he thought perhaps she was relieved as well, to not have to keep up a brave face for him.

But he had returned to Hogwarts to find that some of his housemates were behaving insolently and ignoring his authority; the fools obviously thought that his father's imprisonment was going to be permanent--little did they know! But doubt gnawed at him; it had been more than three months now--when was the Dark Lord going to free his father? His concern was so great that it had caused him to ignore his common sense and go to Professor Snape--which had not done any good, and had earned him nothing but a scolding.

And Blaise Zabini had earned a rare compliment from Snape in Potions class today, which irritated Draco. He comforted himself with the fact that Snape had awarded him twice the points he'd awarded Blaise, but it was cold comfort, because something deep inside of him suspected that Snape only handed out praise and points to him because Lucius Malfoy was his superior in the Death Eaters. Zabini's family were old blood, but had fallen on hard times; they had no money and no influence, nor were they Death Eaters, so Snape's praise must have been genuine, and the Potions Master handed out sincere praise perhaps once in a blue moon. Draco hated being upstaged, particularly by someone like Blaise, who had been a nonentity up until now: he always sat quietly in the back of the classroom, never speaking unless called upon, and while he did well enough in class, he did not do so well as to attract special attention from his teachers, unlike, say, Dylan Rosier...

Thinking about Dylan made Draco grind his teeth in frustration. Although he had befriended the younger boy at his father's behest, and had actually liked him at first, he was growing increasingly jealous of Dylan's popularity. Oh, Dylan knew his place, and was always properly respectful and deferential to Draco, but even that was beginning to become annoying; he longed for an excuse to take Dylan down a peg or two, but Dylan was careful never to give it to him. Draco was getting sick of the way all the girls fawned over the boy; even the Gryffindor girls, who had always turned their noses up at the Slytherins, chased after him shamelessly. And worse, everyone knew that Dylan was Snape's pet; it was Dylan who earned most of those rare words of praise that the Potions Master doled out so sparingly. Fortunately, Dylan was not in Draco's class, so he didn't have to watch it, which was the only thing that made the situation tolerable, but still, it rankled. Draco was the son of Lucius Malfoy, who was first among the Death Eaters, so Draco should likewise be first in all things in Slytherin House.

That was why it was unforgivable that Dylan had been the first among the younger generation to be made a Death Eater. Draco still couldn't understand why Rosier had been singled out over him. Was he not Lucius Malfoy's son? Was he not versed in the Dark Arts? Yes, he still had a lot to learn, but so did Rosier, and Draco was a year older than him! What the hell was so special about Dylan Rosier?!

"Oh, Draco, there you are," Goyle said, as he and Crabbe fell into step beside Draco. "We were wondering were you went."

"Don't think too hard," Draco snarled, "or you'll probably sprain your brain!" Crabbe giggled nervously, while Goyle looked a little hurt. "And you had better not let me catch you sucking up to the werewolf again!" Draco added.

His two henchmen mumbled apologetically, and Draco's anger shifted from Dylan to Lupin, but his anger was tinged with confusion. Why on earth had Lupin helped him? Not that he needed the werewolf's sympathy! But Lupin was supposed to have been a friend of Potter's father, so why would he stand up to Potter and Weasley for Draco's sake? It just didn't make sense. Was Lupin really as softhearted as Snape seemed to think he was, or was he somehow subtly mocking Draco? But Lupin's anger with Potter and Weasley had seemed to be sincere...Draco kept hearing Lupin's quiet voice saying, "But to attack someone by attacking their loved ones is both cruel and cowardly." Draco flushed, feeling a little of ashamed of himself, although he wasn't exactly sure why. He had verbally attacked Weasley's and Potter's families many times; so what? Only softhearted fools felt guilt over things like that! Lupin had been absent from Hogwarts for two years, but he wasn't a complete fool; he must be aware of how Draco normally treated Potter and Weasley, even if he didn't know all the specifics. So, considering all that, why was Lupin still defending him? Was the werewolf soft in the head as well as the heart? {And why on earth am I worrying so much about what the werewolf thinks of me?} Draco asked himself in disgust, and tried to put those bothersome thoughts out of his head.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Draco was uncommonly testy at dinner that night. The other Slytherins were already seated at the dinner table when Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle arrived, and even though the trio's usual seats had been left vacant, Draco snapped at Dylan, "Get out of my seat, Rosier!"

Dylan looked up at him in surprise, and Damien said, "But isn't that your seat over there?"

"My seat is wherever I say it is, Pierce!" Draco snarled.

Dylan immediately got up and moved to one of the empty seats, saying humbly, "I'm sorry, Draco," but Draco only looked even more annoyed. Draco was not the only one in a bad mood; Snape looked more sour than usual, and kept making comments to Professor Lupin, who smiled back at him cheerily; the more Lupin smiled, the angrier Snape got. Finally Professor Blackmore snapped at him--they were too far away to hear her exact words, but it was obviously something along the lines of "Give it a rest!" Snape glared at her, but left off his taunting of Lupin and turned his attention back to his meal.

After dinner, Dylan, Damien, Blaise, and Theodore sat together in a corner of the Slytherin common room near the fireplace to work on their homework. A gaggle of giggling girls pretended to study nearby, but kept glancing over at Dylan, trying to catch his eye. He ignored them, but Damien winked at them, and they giggled again and looked away.

Dylan tapped Damien's textbook and said, "Pay attention, Romeo! Mother says Professor Blackmore is a tough teacher, and your grades weren't so hot last year."

"Slave driver," Damien grumbled, but obeyed, and began reading about air elementals while Dylan and Blaise began copying runes out of a library book.

"No, not like that," Dylan said. "There's more of an upward curve at the end--like this, see?"

"Yeah, I get it now," Blaise said. "You're really good at this, Dylan. I'm glad that Incantations is a new class, so we're all at the same level and have the same homework even though we're in different years."

Dylan smiled modestly. "Well, this was my mother's favorite class, so she taught me a lot about how to draw the runes and circles even though she never actually let me summon anything."

"Ssst!" Damien hissed to catch Dylan's attention, and let his eyes slide over to the other side of the fire, where Serafina Avery had settled down with a textbook and was diligently taking notes. "Think she's joined your fan club, Dylan?" he whispered. "She usually doesn't hang around near us."

Dylan watched the girl out of the corner of his eye. She was one of their yearmates, and was the daughter of the Death Eater Avery, who was currently residing in Azkaban with Lucius Malfoy. She was a thin, almost scrawny girl with mousy-brown hair, and there was nothing exceptional about her except for her eyes, which were a startling shade of blue-violet. She didn't fawn on Draco or hang out with the other Death Eater offspring; in fact, she didn't seem to have any friends at all, and if that bothered her, she never gave any sign of it.

Dylan shrugged. "I doubt it. She's never flirted with me; I don't think she's ever even spoken to me. Anyway, she's not really my type."

"So who is your type?" Damien asked with a suggestive grin.

Dylan just laughed. "I told you, I'm too young to settle down! And you won't graduate if you spend more time staring at girls than studying!"

"Yes, Professor Rosier," Damien said, pretending to be chastened.

"Uh oh," Theodore said, looking up from his book nervously. "Malfoy's heading this way, and he's been pissed off all day." Theodore catered to Draco nearly as much as Crabbe and Goyle did, but he seemed to do it more out of self-preservation than any real liking for Malfoy, and preferred to spend his free time with Dylan's crowd.

"You had better not ever try to show me up in Potions class again, understand, Zabini?" Draco snapped.

"Sorry, Draco," Blaise said meekly. "I didn't mean to."

Dylan and Theodore exchanged quick looks; Theo had told his younger friends what had happened in Lupin's and Snape's classes, when they had asked why Draco was in such a bad mood.

Draco noticed that glance and snarled, "And what are you and Zabini doing hanging out with the fifth-years, Nott?"

"Dylan was just helping us with our homework," Theodore started to reply, then immediately realized he had made a mistake when Draco turned on Dylan.

"And you think you're such hot stuff, Rosier!" Draco shouted. "Think you're smart enough to be teaching older students? Maybe you should tell Dumbledore to go ahead and let you replace Snape, you're so good! Or maybe you could take over Defense Against the Dark Arts, then we can get rid of the werewolf!"

"It's not like that, Draco," Dylan protested in a soft voice, trying to look contrite. "It's just that my mother taught me a lot about Summonings spells, because she met my dad in that class--"

"Who's in charge of Slytherin House, Rosier, you or me?" Draco roared, grabbing the front of Dylan's robe.

"Whoa, take it easy, Draco!" Dylan exclaimed, beginning to get a little worried. Was he going to have to hex Draco in self-defense? That would be disastrous, even if it didn't get him expelled. "You are, of course!"

"Actually," a quiet voice said, "that would be Professor Snape."

Draco let go of Dylan, and turned to stare at Serafina Avery. "I wasn't talking to you, Avery!" he said in a dangerous voice.

She didn't look particularly frightened, and just stared back at him with that blank, emotionless look she always wore. "Fine," she said indifferently. "But if I were you, I wouldn't let Professor Snape catch me saying that."

"Well, you're not me!" Draco snapped, leaning down and placing his face close to hers in order to give her a menacing glare. "Don't forget that my father outranks yours!" he hissed.

Her beautiful violet eyes stared at him blankly. "Our fathers are both in prison," she said in a toneless voice. "So it doesn't matter much, does it?" Draco's mouth dropped open, and as the other students stared in astonishment, she calmly picked up her books and headed to the girls' dorm. Draco turned white with rage and stomped off to his own room.

"What the--?" Theodore gasped.

"She must have a thing for you, Dylan," Damien said, his eyes wide, "to stand up to Malfoy for you like that!"

Dylan shook his head in confusion. "She's never even looked twice at me. Theo, your family is friends with hers, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't really know her," Theo replied. "I mean, we saw each other at parties and stuff, but we never talked much. She never talked to anyone, really, would just sit around with her nose stuck in a book until her mother took it away and made her go and 'socialize'. Which meant that she just stood around with the rest of the kids not saying a word."

Dylan sighed wearily. "I'd better go make peace with Draco before things get worse."

"Is that safe?" Blaise asked, looking concerned.

"I'll just have to grovel a little to soothe his pride," Dylan said, making a face. "I don't think he's really mad at me; he's just on edge because his dad..." His voice trailed off, remembering that Theodore's dad was in prison as well. "Sorry, Theo."

Theo shrugged and mumbled, "It's not like I miss him; he can stay there for all I care."

There was an uneasy silence; none of his three friends knew much about his family other than that Mr. Nott was a Death Eater, and that Theo didn't seem to be very close to them. Dylan cleared his throat and said, "Well, I've got to go talk to Draco," and left for the boys' dorm as the other boys picked up their books and began studying again, in a much more subdued manner.

Draco was the only student in Slytherin--probably the whole school--who had a room to himself. Dylan knocked on the door and called, "Draco?"

"Go away, Rosier!" Draco snapped.

Dylan opened the door anyway, hoping that his apology would cancel out his disobedience, and entered the room. "Draco, I just wanted to apologize--" The other boy jumped up from his bed with a start and turned away, running his sleeve across his face. {Is Draco Malfoy...crying?} Dylan wondered disbelievingly.

"I told you to go away, Rosier!" Draco snarled, with his back still turned to Dylan.

Dylan quickly shut the door behind him before anyone walked by and saw them, which Draco would really find unforgivable. "I'm sorry, Draco, for stepping out of line earlier. I didn't mean to do it, honestly, and it won't happen again." Draco just grunted and made a dismissive gesture. "And..." Dylan hesitated, then said in a quieter voice, "I'm really sorry about your dad."

"What would you know about it?" Draco snarled as he spun around to face Dylan; his eyes were red.

"I lost my dad, too," Dylan reminded him in that quiet voice. "Permanently."

"Yeah, that's right," Draco said, suddenly sounding less angry.

"I never even got to meet him," Dylan said. "He was killed before I was born; all I have are my mother's pictures and stories of him. Professor Snape's told me a little about him, too. That's why I try so hard to make Snape like me; not because I want to take your place as leader of Slytherin, but so he'll talk to me about my dad. He only does it when he's in a good mood, and you know how often Snape is in a good mood..."

Draco actually laughed a little. "Well, you are pretty good in Potions," he conceded.

"So are you," Dylan said.

"Yeah, but maybe Snape only gives me good grades because of who my father is," Draco said unhappily.

Dylan tried to hide his surprise; it was unheard of for Draco to admit to a weakness or insecurity. "No, you really are good, Draco," he said firmly. "You've never melted your cauldron like Longbottom, have you? Or made a flagon explode, like Goyle?" Draco snickered, looking somewhat cheered, and Dylan continued, "Besides, you're at the top of all your other classes, and those teachers aren't Slytherins." It was not quite true; Hermione outranked Draco in at least half of those classes, but Draco was right behind her, and a little flattery never hurt.

"That's right," Draco said proudly, holding his head up high. He gave Dylan a companionable slap on the back and said, "You're all right, Rosier." Dylan smiled at him in relief; it seemed like things were back to normal again. "Say...Dylan?" Draco asked in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you know anything about my dad?" he asked anxiously. "I mean, I know I shouldn't ask, but do you know when they're going to break him out?"

Draco looked oddly young and vulnerable, which made Dylan feel uncomfortable. Their friendship was one of convenience, and he had never really liked Draco, but Dylan found himself feeling sorry for the other boy now. He hated Lucius Malfoy, but he understood what Draco was going through. Dylan had the sudden, very disturbing thought that the families of the Mudbloods and Muggle-borns that Evan Rosier had killed probably didn't think too kindly of him, either. "I really don't know, Draco," Dylan replied softly. "I've only been to that one meeting."

"That's all?" Draco asked incredulously, but he seemed a little happier even though he still looked worried.

{Probably glad that he hasn't missed out on as much "fun" as he thought,} Dylan thought sourly. {I'd gladly trade places with him if I could!} Aloud, he said, "You know I'm not supposed to talk about it, Draco," he warned. "But I can't Apparate, so I can't go to meetings unless someone else takes me."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Draco said, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "So you really don't know?" he asked, disappointed.

"No," Dylan replied. "But I'm sure it will happen soon. Our Master needs his followers, after all. I'm sure he has some sort of plan, but I'm just not important enough to be entrusted with it." Dylan was just talking off the top of his head, but Draco seemed to find it reassuring, and it probably was true that the Dark Lord wouldn't trust him with anything important since Dylan had joined the Death Eaters under coercion.

"Will you tell me if you hear anything?" Draco pleaded.

Dylan hesitated. Snape would kill him if he gave away Death Eater secrets to Malfoy, and more importantly, the Dark Lord might hurt his mother; he had not forgotten Voldemort's threat that Ariane would suffer if Dylan needed to be punished. "If I can," he hedged. "Besides, I'm not likely to be part of the rescue team, so I might not hear about it till you do, anyway."

To Dylan's relief, Draco didn't argue with him. "Okay," he said. "Thanks, Dylan." As Dylan turned to leave, he added, "Oh, and my dad told me some stories about your dad and his friend Wilkes. I...I could tell you about them sometime, if you like."

"Sure, I'd like that," Dylan said, surprised at how agreeable Malfoy was being. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Rosier."

Dylan returned to the common room thinking that Draco might not be so bad without his father giving him an inflated sense of self-importance all the time. He wondered when the Dark Lord would break out the prisoners, and what would happen after that. Thinking about that made him uneasy, and he began to wish that Voldemort would leave Lucius and the others in Azkaban, even if it meant he would have to put up with Draco's bad moods...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape went to his quarters after dinner, and a few minutes later, Lupin emerged from his fireplace. Snape, paranoid as only a former Death Eater could be, had set wards around the fireplace allowing only certain people to enter through it; Lupin, of course, was one of those people.

"Hello, Severus," Lupin said with a grin. "I brought you a gift." He held up a box of Honeyduke's fudge.

"Is that supposed to be a bribe, Lupin?" Snape asked, crossing his arms over his chest, pretending to be indignant. "To make me forgive you for the way you kept rubbing your foot against my leg under the table?"

"No, Sev," Lupin replied, still grinning. "I was thinking more of the aphrodisiacal qualities of chocolate; I brought these to put you in the mood."

"I've been in the mood for the last half-hour," Snape growled playfully, wrapping his arms around Lupin and pulling him close. "I don't need any chocolate for that!"

"Perhaps later, then," Lupin laughed. "To put you back in the mood for a second round...maybe even a third...?"

"First things first," Snape said, and sealed Lupin's mouth with a kiss.


Much later, they lay together in bed feeding each other chocolates. "So, Lupin," Snape said, "what are you up to with Draco Malfoy?"

"Up to?" Lupin asked innocently, holding out another piece of chocolate. Snape leaned over and took the piece of candy with his mouth, allowing his lips and tongue to brush against Lupin's fingers. Lupin shivered with pleasure. Snape grinned wickedly and Lupin shivered again.

Snape chewed and swallowed, then replied, "You know what I mean, Lupin. I heard from Malfoy about how you came to his rescue." He frowned slightly. "Are you trying to win over Draco? I thought you said Draco wasn't likely to listen to 'some impoverished Gryffindor werewolf'."

"I wasn't trying to step on your toes, Severus," Lupin said apologetically, but Snape shook his head.

"That's not what I meant, Lupin. If you can get through to Draco, more power to you. I'm just surprised that you took his part against Potter. I hear you even took points from Gryffindor?"

Lupin rolled his eyes impatiently. "Like I told the students, in the classroom I'm a teacher, not a Gryffindor! Just how long after we graduate are we supposed to carry on these silly House rivalries? What kind of teacher would I be if I played favorites?"

"One like me, I suppose," Snape muttered sulkily.

Lupin leaned closer and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. "Yes, but you do it to keep your cover with the Death Eaters."

Snape flushed, looking rather shamefaced. "Don't make me out to be more noble than I am, Remus," he said sharply. "Yes, I cater to Lucius and the others by spoiling their children, but even if I didn't have to, I'd still probably favor my own House." He added in a bitter voice, "Why shouldn't I? No one else cuts the Slytherins any slack, and the other teachers all play favorites as well..."

"Does that make it right?" Lupin asked gently, and Snape's flush grew deeper. "Besides, you're wrong. I know most of the other teachers play favorites, and maybe some of them are biased against the Slytherins, but not Branwen. She never played favorites when we were children, and she tried very hard to save her Slytherin students."

"I know," Snape sighed guiltily. "Not that we appreciated it at the time."

"Harry and Ron were taunting Draco about his father being in prison," Lupin said, looking genuinely distressed.

"It's not like Malfoy hasn't done the same thing to them," Snape pointed out, some perverse little part of him deciding to play devil's advocate.

"That doesn't justify what they did," Lupin insisted. "Responding to cruelty with more cruelty only creates a vicious circle. They're both good kids; I didn't expect this from them."

"As I recall," Snape said sarcastically, "everyone thought Potter senior and Black were 'good kids,' too." Lupin sighed, with that sad "Are you ever going to let go of the past, Severus?" look in his eyes. Feeling guilty and irritated at the same time, he muttered, "Well, at least Potter and Weasley haven't tried to feed Malfoy or Rosier to a werewolf yet."

Lupin laughed. Even if Severus was still having trouble letting go of his childhood grudges, at least he was able to joke about them; Lupin thought that was a good sign. "Well, there is that," he chuckled. "But then again, there are no werewolves that I know of in Gryffindor House at present!" Snape rolled his eyes, but he no longer looked irritated. Lupin laughed again, then said in a more serious voice, "I fear Ron and Harry share what Branwen says is the typical Gryffindor flaw: the tendency to see things only as black or white. I had hoped that Harry, at least, might become a little more open-minded, and not repeat his father's mistakes, especially after what he saw in the Pensieve." Lupin smiled tenderly and laid his hand over Snape's. "And now that they know about us, I had hoped the children could see that it is possible for a Gryffindor and Slytherin to get along."

"I think you're just trying to justify your exhibitionism, Lupin," Snape retorted, but with a smile.

"I'd snog you right at the head table in front of the entire school if I could," Lupin said, grinning unrepentantly as he wrapped his arms around Snape.

"Scandalous," Snape murmured as he kissed Lupin. He could still taste the lingering traces of chocolate on Lupin's lips.

"Quite," Lupin agreed, running his hands through Snape's hair. "Does that excite you, Sev?"

"Yes," Snape replied, kissing him again. Then he pulled back a little to scowl at Lupin. "But I'll kill you if you actually try it, Lupin!"

"I'm sure my pelt would make a lovely rug for your office, Severus!" Lupin laughed, pulling Snape back to him for another kiss. But before he let passion cloud his thoughts again, he let himself briefly dream of a future in which the war had been won and Voldemort defeated, a future in which it would be safe for Lupin to declare his love for Severus to the world...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dylan and Damien arrived at the DADA classroom the next morning to find the place in an uproar. The Gryffindors were shouting angrily, and some of the Slytherins were laughing while others looked nervous or disapproving; the source of the commotion was Brad Doherty. He was drawing a cartoonish picture of a stereotypical wolfman on the blackboard, complete with furry face and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

"You'll be in big trouble when Professor Lupin gets here!" Colin Creevey was shouting furiously. Ginny Weasley was actually having to hold him back to keep him from attacking Brad, although she looked just as angry herself.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Dylan snapped.

"Just having a little fun," Brad grinned.

"Give me that," Dylan said, trying to wrest the piece of chalk from Brad's hand, but the other boy resisted.

"What's wrong with you?" Brad whined, then said with a sneer, "Do you want me to tell Draco that you're defending the werewolf?"

"I'm not defending Lupin, you dolt!" Dylan snapped. "I'm trying to keep you from getting points docked from Slytherin! How many points do you think Lupin will take off when he sees this? How happy do you think Draco will be if you jeopardize our chances of winning the House Cup? Give me that chalk and erase that picture!"

"I don't take orders from you, Rosier!" Brad snarled. "Ever since you came here, you've been acting so big, lording it over the rest of us! But when Draco hears--"

"Ahem," Lupin said, clearing his throat.

The two boys turned around to see their teacher standing behind them. Brad jumped back, leaving Dylan holding the piece of chalk. Lupin's eyes glanced at the blackboard, and then at the chalk in Dylan's hand.

"Um...this isn't what it looks like, Professor," Dylan said weakly.

"Detention for both of you," Lupin said sternly. "Mr. Doherty, you may report to Mr. Filch after classes are over for the day. Mr. Rosier, you will report to my office."

"It wasn't Dylan's fault," Damien protested. "It was Brad who drew the picture!" Brad glared at him.

Lupin glanced at the chalk in in Dylan's hand and raised an eyebrow. The Gryffindors shuffled their feet nervously, hesitant to jump to a Slytherin's defense. Even the girls who had flirted with him last year held back; ever since the return of Voldemort had been publicly announced, people had been looking at him differently. His popularity had dipped only slightly, but he had seen many of the students giving him speculative glances, as if wondering if he would turn out to be a Death Eater like his father. But then Ginny stepped forward and said, "He's right, Professor. Brad drew the picture; Dylan was trying to stop him."

"I don't need your help, Weasley!" Dylan snapped. "Mind your own business!" Ginny looked hurt, and Dylan felt a bit guilty, but he couldn't afford to have Brad report to Draco that he'd not only defended Lupin, but accepted help from a Gryffindor. He could justify the first by claiming that he was trying to save Slytherin from losing points, but the two together would look very bad in Draco's eyes.

"Then I will give you detention not for drawing the picture, but for speaking rudely to a classmate," Lupin said, "especially since she was trying to help you. I will still see you in my office this afternoon, Mr. Rosier."

"Yes, sir," Dylan mumbled sullenly.

"All of you, take your seats!" Lupin snapped.

The students all rushed to obey, and Damien whispered to Dylan, sounding puzzled, "It's not like Lupin to be so strict, and to not even listen to your side of the story."

Dylan shrugged. Well, at least the detention should convince Draco that he wasn't on Lupin's side, but he had never gotten a detention during the entire time he'd been at Hogwarts, and now his perfect record was ruined.

Lupin looked at the drawing on the blackboard, and said, sounding more like his usual good-natured self, "Well, I am impressed by your artistic talent, Brad, but your drawing is more fanciful than realistic. Werewolves transform into wolves, not a half-wolf, half-man combination, no matter what the storybooks say." He tapped the blackboard with his wand, and the picture vanished. "You will write me an essay explaining the process of a werewolf's transformation, and list the differences between a lycanthrope's wolf form and a true wolf. Two feet of parchment, plus illustrations." Lupin grinned widely, his lips pulling back from his teeth, and for the first time Dylan noticed that his canines were unusually sharp and pointed, looking almost like small fangs. "Due to me at the end of the week."

Brad nodded, slouching down in his seat resentfully.

"Now, I'd like to see how you're doing on your Patronus Charms," Lupin began, but Colin Creevey raised his hand. "Yes, Colin?"

"I--I was curious, sir," Colin said hesitantly. "I was wondering why you looked so sick when you were teaching us during second year, but now you look much better. There's...there's no cure for lycanthropy, right?" His classmates stared at him in shock; most of them had been wondering the same thing, but none of them had dared to ask Lupin about it.

"That is correct," Lupin said cheerfully, apparently unoffended. "But the Wolfsbane Potion keeps it in check. The inventor of the potion recently made some improvements to it, so my health has much improved. I no longer suffer from the pain and nausea that usually accompany the transformation. So, hopefully, I will not have to take any sick days this year, and can keep teaching you right up until the full moon."

The Gryffindors looked relieved that it wouldn't be necessary for Snape to substitute for a sick Lupin.

"Now, getting back to our lesson--" Colin raised his hand again. "Yes, Colin?" Lupin asked patiently.

"I was wondering, sir, how werewolves are made..."

"They get bitten, you dolt!" Damien muttered under his breath, and several people snickered.

"Mr. Pierce," Lupin said in a warning tone.

Colin flushed. "I know THAT," he said, giving Damien an annoyed look. "But if a person is made a werewolf after being bitten by one, then where did the first werewolf come from?" The class fell silent and looked at each other thoughtfully.

"A good question, Colin," Lupin said with a smile.

"Maybe it's not really any of our business," Ginny started to say, but Lupin interrupted her.

"No, Ginny, it's all right," he said gently. "I don't mind. Secrecy breeds fear, and has contributed to the many misconceptions people have about werewolves. No one really knows how lycanthropy originated, but there are various legends and theories. One theory is that it was a magical experiment gone wrong. But there is a legend in my parents' homeland in France, that werewolves were once true shapeshifters, like the kitsune or tengu of Japan. They could take wolf shape as they pleased, without losing their human intelligence or sanity." The children listened raptly; they had never heard this story before. "But the wolf people grew arrogant, so the legend says, and used their gift for ill rather than good; used their gift to terrorize the populace and set themselves up as lords of the land. So the gods grew angry, and changed the gift into a curse: they would no longer have control over the change, and because they had not valued their humanity, they would lose it, once every month, at the rise of the full moon. They would become no better than beasts--worse than beasts, because animals only kill for food or in self-defense. They would be driven by mindless fury and bloodlust, driven to pass their curse on to others, and they would become reviled as monsters and shunned by society."

There was a stunned silence. "Is that true, Professor?" Ginny asked timidly.

Lupin smiled at her, a little sadly. "I don't know, Ginny," he replied. "But that is the story that has been passed down in my family for generations, and I think there is at least a grain of truth in it. For you see, I did not get my lycanthropy from a bite, but rather, I inherited it."

"What?!" Damien exclaimed, and several other students made similar outbursts.

Lupin smiled at them, looking a little amused. "Didn't you think it was odd that someone with the name 'Lupin' just happened to be bitten by a werewolf? Doesn't that seem like a rather unlikely coincidence? My family was believed to be descended from the original clan of shapeshifters. That story I just told you was not the only thing that was passed down in my family--the curse was as well."

"Your whole family are werewolves?!" Brad blurted out, his eyes wide with shock and fear.

"No," Lupin said. "The curse often skips a generation or two; no one can predict who will inherit it. My family tried to hide it, of course, but it is a difficult thing to conceal. There were dark rumors whispered about them for hundreds of years, sometimes leading to violence. That is why my parents emigrated to England before I was born, hoping to start a new life where no one knew of their past. Unfortunately--" Lupin's lips twisted in an ironic smile. "--I inherited the curse and ruined those plans."

Colin tentatively stuck his hand in the air again.

Lupin sighed a little and said, "Yes, Colin?"

"Then...you're the only person in your family who is a werewolf, sir?"

"As far as I know, I may be the only person left in my family, period," Lupin said, that ironic smile crossing his lips again. "My parents passed away several years ago, and I have no siblings. Though I suppose it is possible that I may have some very distant cousins still living in France, but I don't really know."

Dylan hesitated a moment, then raised his hand.

"Yes, Dylan?"

"Why haven't we heard of these legends before, sir?" Dylan asked. "The textbooks imply that the disease is passed solely through a werewolf's bite..."

"Probably because some of the prominent wizarding families had a few skeletons in their own closets, and wanted to avoid the same kind of stigma that my family suffered from," Lupin said cynically. "If someone contracted lycanthropy, it could be chalked up to carelessness or bad luck, and need not tarnish their whole family. But if people believed that the disease could be inherited..."

"Then the entire family would be branded as monsters, whether the curse was actually inherited or not," Dylan finished. He noted, with dark amusement, the parallels between Lupin's life and his own: the curse of his father's reputation followed Dylan as relentlessly as Lupin's own curse followed him. In fact, many people (including most of the male members of Gryffindor House) probably thought that being the son of a Death Eater was far worse than being a werewolf. A similar thought had probably occurred to his teacher, because Lupin caught his eye and gave him a sardonic little smile.

"But in any case," Lupin said in a more brisk and professional tone, "inherited lycanthropy is extremely rare; most werewolves have indeed contracted their disease through bites. And thanks to..." Lupin hesitated, seeming to stumble over the words. "...Professor Kamiyama in Japan, the Wolfsbane Potion makes it a manageable disease. A werewolf need no longer be a danger to himself or anyone else. Now, getting back to Patronus Charms..."

Lupin returned to their scheduled lesson, and the entire class, even Brad, was unusually subdued and quiet for the rest of the period.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

At the end of the day, Dylan reluctantly went to Lupin's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Lupin called.

Dylan walked in, and Lupin looked up from his desk where he was grading papers, and said cheerfully, "Have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Dylan's mouth dropped open. "Um...I don't mean to be rude, sir, but do you always offer tea to the students who are serving detention with you?" {That's certainly a change from Professor Snape!}

To his astonishment, Lupin laughed. "Oh, I'm not really giving you detention, Dylan!"

"You're not?"

Lupin grinned at him. "No, I knew that you didn't draw that picture; Brad's handiwork is quite distinctive, I assure you. Though you were rather rude to Ginny." Dylan flushed a little. "But I think I understand why; it would cause trouble for you in Slytherin House if you were seen being too friendly with a Gryffindor, wouldn't it?" Feeling a little stunned, Dylan nodded. "That's why I arranged this little charade. I got the feeling on the first day of class that you wanted to talk to me, but were afraid of what your housemates might think. So...would you like a cup of tea?" Dylan nodded dumbly, and dropped into the chair in front of Lupin's desk. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Both, please," Dylan said faintly, still feeling rather stunned at how cleverly Lupin had arranged all this, and feeling rather uneasy about how easily Lupin had read him. He prided himself on being able to disguise his emotions and only let people see what he wanted them to see; it bothered him that Lupin had seen right through him. And why was Lupin going through all this trouble to help the son of a Death Eater? Lupin handed him a tea cup, and Dylan took a sip from it as he tried to calm himself and compose his thoughts.

Lupin drank from his own cup, then said pleasantly, "So, what did you want to talk to me about, Dylan?"

"You...you mentioned my father on the first day of class," Dylan said hesitantly. "You said that you went to school with him."

"Yes, that's right," Lupin said calmly. "We were in different Houses, of course, but we were yearmates and did share some classes together."

"But no one ever talks about my father!" Dylan exclaimed. "Well, except for Professor Snape, a little. But most people don't like to talk about him; it makes them uncomfortable because he was...well..."

"Because he was a Death Eater," Lupin finished, still in that calm voice.

"Yes," Dylan said, confused. "I mean, sometimes people taunt me with that fact, call me devil's spawn or a murderer's child--" Lupin looked angry and distressed when he heard that, which confused Dylan even more. "But you just said, 'I went to school with your father,' like he was an old friend..."

"No, Evan wasn't my friend, and I can't claim that I was close to him," Lupin replied. "Because of House rivalries, it was almost impossible for someone from Gryffindor to be friends with a Slytherin." Lupin smiled sadly for a moment, then continued, "But I didn't hate him; in fact, I rather liked him, to tell you the truth, though of course I never told my Gryffindor friends that."

"You liked my dad?" Dylan asked incredulously.

Lupin laughed again, the sadness in his eyes replaced by a mischievous gleam. "Well, Evan was a very charming boy. But perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I admired his audacity. He and his friend Lyall had quite a reputation as pranksters, you know."

"So I've heard," Dylan said with a grin. "But weren't you and your friends the victims of some of those pranks?"

Lupin grinned back at him. "Well, they never targeted me specifically, but yes, Gryffindor was their usual target. In particular, I remember a batch of Valentine's Day chocolates laced with Swelling Solution..."

"But they were never caught--" Dylan said without thinking, then clamped his hand over his mouth, but Lupin just chuckled.

"No, no one was ever punished for that prank, but believe me, everyone knew who was responsible."

Dylan dropped his hand and asked cautiously, "And...you weren't mad?"

"Well, my friends were furious, of course," Lupin replied, "but no, I wasn't really angry. James Potter was one of my best friends, and mostly he was a very good person, but..." Lupin sighed. "He did have the usual bias against Slytherin, and I'm afraid he and some of my other friends pulled a number of pranks against...um...certain members of Slytherin House, some of them rather cruel pranks, I'm afraid." Lupin sighed again, then smiled wryly. "So I can't really claim that James was an innocent victim in the matter."

"Why didn't you hate the Slytherins the way your friends did?" Dylan asked curiously.

"I suppose because as a werewolf, I knew what it was like to have people judge you on appearances," Lupin replied gravely. "Not many Headmasters would have admitted a werewolf to Hogwarts, you know."

"Or a Death Eater's son," Dylan added softly.

"Yes," Lupin agreed. "Professor Dumbledore believes in judging people by their actions, not by their wealth, or their families, or even by a particularly dangerous disease they might happen to suffer from. So it seemed to me that I should do the same. Besides, as a werewolf, I hardly had the right to be pointing fingers at anyone else."

Dylan was silent for a few minutes as he thought things over, and Lupin patiently sipped his tea and waited. Finally, Dylan said, "That explains why you didn't hate my father when you were students. But he did eventually join the Death Eaters, so you had plenty of reason to hate him after that."

"I won't lie to you, Dylan," Lupin said quietly. "I can't condone what your father did. But I hate his actions rather than the man. I mourn his death, and I mourn the loss of what he could have been." He paused, as if trying to choose his words carefully. "Your father was led astray and seduced by Voldemort and his followers--"

Dylan winced; Lupin and Dumbledore were the only people he had ever heard met who referred to the Dark Lord by name.

"--and he made some terrible mistakes, but...he was not 'born bad,' as people often say Slytherins are."

Dylan blinked in surprise; Snape had said something similar about Evan Rosier making "terrible mistakes".

"He did have his good points as well," Lupin continued. "He cared for his friend Lyall. He loved your mother very much. And Professor Blackmore liked him."

"She did?" Dylan asked, feeling shocked.

Lupin smiled at him. "Yes, apparently she was very fond of him. Have you never heard the story of how he asked her for a dance at the Yule Ball?"

Dylan laughed, "Yes, I heard it! Professor Sn--" He suddenly broke off what he was about to say, belatedly realizing that Professor Snape might not care for Dylan bandying his name about with his childhood enemy.

Lupin just grinned. "I'd already guessed that Professor Snape must have told you stories about Evan, but I won't mention it if you don't want me to. Anyway, I think Professor Blackmore admired Evan's audacity a little, too, although that she never let that stop her from giving him detention. But she cared about him, cared about all her students very much."

"But wasn't she an Auror?" Dylan asked. "Weren't she and my father on opposite sides of the war?" There was a certain danger in speaking so openly with Lupin, but the werewolf was willing to talk about things that even Professor Snape wouldn't discuss, and somehow Dylan felt like he could trust Lupin. It was ridiculous; he had no logical reason to do so, and Dylan never let his guard down completely with anyone but his mother or Snape, but some instinct kept telling him that it was all right to trust Lupin, that the werewolf would never betray him. Maybe it was Lupin's kind and easy-going manner--after all, he had won over most of Dylan's Slytherin housemates, except for Draco's diehard cronies, which was no easy task for someone who was not only a werewolf, but a Gryffindor to boot.

"Yes, they were," Lupin said solemnly, his playful smile vanishing. "But she tried to save him, Dylan, right up until the end. She tried to convince him to surrender..."

"She was there when my father died?" Dylan gasped, his eyes flying wide open.

Lupin cursed under his breath; clearly he hadn't known that Dylan was unaware of that fact. "Yes," he said reluctantly. "I thought you knew."

"No," Dylan replied, feeling a little faint with shock. "I know Mad-Eye Moody killed him and Lyall Wilkes; that's all my mother told me."

Lupin sighed unhappily. "Perhaps I shouldn't say anything more..."

"Please tell me what happened!" Dylan begged. "I want to know, even..." His voice faltered a little. "Even if it's something bad. I'm his son; don't I have a right to know?"

Lupin stared at him for a long time, then said, "Very well. Professor Blackmore and Alastor Moody were the Aurors who confronted your father and Lyall, along with two young Aurors-in-training, Miles Dempsey and..." Lupin hesitated, then finished, "Sirius Black."

Dylan had thought he could not possibly be shocked any further; he was wrong. "Sirius Black? The murderer?"

"Falsely accused murderer," Lupin corrected him sharply. "His name has been cleared."

"Right, I read about it in the Daily Prophet," Dylan said hastily. "I didn't mean any offense."

Lupin smiled, albeit sadly. "None taken. I suppose it takes more than a statement from the Ministry to undo years of notoriety. Anyway, the four of them were sent to apprehend Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes. I'm not sure, but I suspect that Branwen purposely took that assignment so that she would have the chance to save Evan and Lyall; another Auror might have killed them on sight. She pleaded with them to surrender, promised to protect them and speak on their behalf in court if they would give themselves up."

"Why would she do that?" a bewildered Dylan asked.

"Because she cared about them."

"But why?"

"If you want to know that, you will have to ask her," Lupin said, then smiled a little at Dylan's horrified expression. "She isn't quite the ogre she seems, you know," he said lightly. "Not unlike Professor Snape."

Dylan thought that if his eyes opened any wider, they would probably pop right out of his head. "Pr...Professor Snape?" he repeated weakly.

"Yes, Professor Snape," Lupin agreed, that mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. "The entire faculty knows that he's taken you under his wing, Dylan. Don't tell me that you haven't noticed that he has at least a few redeeming qualities..."

"Yes, but I didn't think that YOU knew that," Dylan replied, feeling a little dazed.

"Well, I do," Lupin replied, still smiling. "I don't hate Severus, even if he still harbors a grudge against me. Unfortunately, my friends and his did not get along very well."

"More of those pranks you mentioned earlier?"

"Clever lad," Lupin said, looking amused. "I'd give you points, if we were still in class."

"About my father...?" Dylan prodded, trying to steer the conversation back on track, although he was finding this tangential line of discussion about Snape to be quite fascinating.

Lupin's mood turned serious again. "Professor Blackmore begged your father to surrender."

"But he refused to," Dylan said softly.

"Yes," Lupin replied, in an equally quiet voice. "One of his good qualities was his loyalty, but in this case it was misplaced. Voldemort did not deserve that loyalty. He sent his minions out to fight, and in some cases, die, but he did not mourn their deaths, and did nothing to protect them. Vol--" He saw Dylan wince, and changed his words to, "The Dark Lord values only strength, and in his eyes, those who got themselves killed were by definition weak, so he cared nothing for either the people he murdered or the followers who died in his name."

Once, Dylan would have been angered by Lupin's words. But now he knew what the Dark Lord was really like, and he knew that Lupin was telling the truth. He was a little surprised to hear Lupin call Voldemort "the Dark Lord"--he had never heard anyone but the Death Eaters refer to him by that name; the rest of the wizarding world always called him "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". Curious...

"Please don't hate Professor Blackmore," Lupin said, in a quiet and earnest voice. "She did her very best to save him. Even Moody is not really to blame--"

"He killed my father," Dylan said in a hard voice. "Even if it was in self-defense, I can't--"

"Moody did not kill your father," Lupin said softly, looking Dylan directly in the eyes.

"What?! B-but I thought--"

"When Evan saw that defeat was inevitable, he cast a Death Strike spell. It's a very ancient Dark spell that--"

"I know what it is," Dylan interrupted, not caring that he was giving away the fact that he knew more about the Dark Arts than he should.

"Evan believed that death was better than dishonor," Lupin said, still holding Dylan's gaze. "The spell killed him, of course, along with Dempsey, and badly wounded Moody and Lyall; Branwen and Sirius managed to shield themselves. Lyall, loyal to the end, tried to attack Moody, and Moody killed him in self-defense."

Stricken, Dylan stared into Lupin's blue eyes; the compassion and concern he saw there were more than he could stand, and he dropped his gaze, staring at the floor while he fought back tears. {Is everything I thought I knew about my father a lie?} he wondered in despair.

He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder, and looked up to see that Professor Lupin had come around from behind the desk. "Why would my mother lie to me?" Dylan whispered.

"I'm sure she was telling you the truth as she knew it," Lupin said kindly. "The details were not made public, and most people believe that Moody killed both Evan and Lyall. I'm sorry, Dylan, perhaps I should not have told you all this--"

"No," Dylan said in a shaky voice, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I asked you to. And I guess I'd rather know the truth, than go on believing a lie."

"One thing that is not a lie is that he truly loved your mother," Lupin said, his hand still resting on Dylan's shoulder. "Never doubt that."

"Yes, Professor," Dylan whispered, touching the ring that he wore on his right hand--his father's ring. The gesture comforted him, just a little. Lupin squeezed his shoulder, and that comforted him a little, too, and then his teacher went back to his desk and fixed Dylan a cup of fresh tea. Dylan drank it, the heat from the liquid driving out some of the chill that had settled in his body when he had heard the true story of Evan Rosier's death. Lupin sat watching him as he drank, with that kind and worried look in his blue eyes.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Dylan finally asked.

"You're my student," Lupin replied, as if stating the obvious, looking a little confused by Dylan's question. "And the son of an old classmate."

"I'm the son of a Death Eater," Dylan said bitterly. "Aren't you afraid that I'll turn out to be a Death Eater, too? That's what everyone else thinks."

"Not everyone," Lupin said firmly. "Not the Headmaster. Not Professor Flitwick. And not me."

"You don't even know me," Dylan pointed out.

Lupin smiled at him, an oddly tender look in his eyes that totally bewildered Dylan. "I have a...feeling about you, you might say. And my instincts are usually correct. I suppose some people might call me a fool, but I have faith in you, Dylan."

Dylan was even more confused than before, but Lupin obviously couldn't, or wouldn't, explain it any more clearly that that. He happened to glance up at the window, and saw that the sky outside was turning dark. Lupin's eyes followed his gaze, and he exclaimed, "Oh my, I didn't realize it was that late! You'd better hurry--we'd both better hurry, or we'll be late for dinner!"

Dylan rose to his feet, saying shyly, "Thank you for the tea...and everything, Professor."

Lupin smiled at him. "You're welcome, Dylan. Feel free to stop by my office anytime."

"By the way," Dylan asked, some of his good humor restored, "what was my detention? In case my housemates should ask."

Lupin thought for a moment, then decided, "I made you write lines. 'I will not behave disrespectfully in class.' And I lectured you about inter-House rivalry and the importance of getting along with your peers until your ears nearly fell off. I know some of the staff and students think I'm too softhearted; that should fit in with their view of me. Oh, and if you want to talk to me again, signal me and I'll give you detention. Just make a nasty comment about werewolves or something.'" Lupin grinned. "But try not to pick too many fights with the Gryffindors, please."

Dylan found himself grinning back at his teacher. "Yes, sir!"

"Run along, then, Mr. Rosier. We probably shouldn't be seen heading to the Great Hall together."

Dylan ran ahead to dinner, thinking to himself that he liked Lupin very much; it was really a pity that Snape hated him...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"All right, Lupin, what are you up to?" Snape asked his lover as soon as they were alone in his quarters together after dinner.

"I don't know what you mean, Severus," Lupin said, feigning innocence.

Snape just gave him the same daunting glare he used to intimidate his students, but it had little effect on Lupin. "Why did you give Dylan Rosier detention?"

"Did Dylan tell you about that?" Lupin asked, feeling a bit surprised. He hadn't thought that Dylan would discuss their conversation with Severus; he'd gotten the distinct impression that Dylan thought that Professor Snape would disapprove of him associating with "the werewolf".

"No, but Doherty told Malfoy, and Malfoy told me. So, I repeat, Lupin, what are you up to? Dylan is much too careful to get caught doing anything that would warrant detention."

"Actually, I think he was trying to defend me, in his own way," Lupin replied with a grin. "It was kind of cute, really." He explained how Brad had drawn the unflattering werewolf caricature, how Dylan had tried to make him erase it, and how Dylan had turned on Ginny when she stood up for him.

"So you've already won over Dylan Rosier after only two days of class?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm impressed; he's very guarded, and doesn't readily trust most people."

"Sounds like someone else we know," Lupin said, smiling at Snape.

"Being a Death Eater doesn't exactly inspire warm feelings and faith in humanity," Snape pointed out dryly.

"It must be my charm and good looks," Lupin said, fluttering his eyelashes at Snape, who rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. "Besides, most of the Slytherins, particularly the younger ones, don't really hate me; they only pretend to so that Draco won't give them a hard time. Damien Pierce likes me, and he's Dylan's best friend, so he's probably persuaded Dylan that I'm all right."

"Let me see if I've got this straight: Dylan Rosier, who has always been more guarded and calculating than most adults twice his age, is leaping to defend you from one of his housemates," Snape said. Lupin grinned and nodded. "So I repeat, why did you give him detention?"

"I wanted an excuse to talk to him without Draco accusing him of getting friendly with me," Lupin said. "I think he wanted to talk to me, too."

"And why would he want to do that?" Snape asked uneasily, because his inner voice had no trouble coming up with an answer. {Because he saw Lupin in your thoughts, during the Occlumency lessons, and he wants to know why images of Lupin are floating around inside your head...}

But Lupin was replying, "Probably because I happened to mention in class yesterday that I went to school with his father. Which is true, of course."

Snape felt amused, annoyed, and relieved, all at the same time. "You deliberately played on his one weak spot, Lupin. Very devious, for a Gryffindor."

"Well, you once told me I would make a good Slytherin, Severus," Lupin laughed. "But yes, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist coming to me after that. I've heard so much about him over the past two years; I wanted to see him for myself--"

"You see him in class every day," Snape pointed out.

"--and I wanted to get to know him," Lupin finished. "Because...well, because you care about him." Snape flushed and scowled, and Lupin smiled tenderly. "You can't deny it, Severus."

"Don't go getting all sappy on me, Lupin," Snape said muttered, but didn't try to deny it. Lupin slipped an arm around his waist and kissed him on the cheek. "So," Snape said, trying to sound grumpy, in spite of the feeling of contentment that was slowly spreading through his body, "what did you think of Mr. Rosier?"

"A complicated boy," Lupin said, laying his head on Snape's shoulder. "A little bitter, which is not surprising, considering the circumstances. But at heart, a good person. Even if you had not intervened, I'm not sure that he would have followed in his father's footsteps." Lupin kissed Snape again, this time on the mouth. "Like you--and unlike Evan, I'm sorry to say--he thinks too much; he would not have been content to blindly accept Voldemort's propaganda for long. Eventually, he would have started to question, and to doubt. I think his friendship with Hermione proves that."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to get too close to him, Remus," Snape said, serious now.

"Why?" Lupin asked, looking a little hurt.

"He's very clever, and I don't want him to find out about us," Snape said, gently stroking Lupin's cheek in an attempt to soften his words. "It could be dangerous, for him and for us."

"I'll be careful, Severus," Lupin promised. "It's not out of character for me to befriend a fatherless Slytherin boy; I am a softhearted Gryffindor fool, remember? And I've openly made it my mission this year to foster inter-House cooperation." He sighed sadly. "But I do wish I could tell him the truth about how much you mean to me." He paused to think, and frowned a little. "Er...do you think he would be shocked? By us, I mean?"

"I'm sure he would be shocked to find out that the werewolf I claim to hate is my lover," Snape said with wry humor. "And I'm sure the entire school would be shocked to find out that anyone, even a werewolf, could feel love for me. But once he got over the initial shock, I don't think he would care that we're both men, if that's what you mean. Slytherins are rather blase about such things, you know. Though of course we're still expected to make proper marriages and sire little brats to carry on the family name regardless of our sexual preferences."

"Good," Lupin said, ignoring Severus's last sentence, because he had no fear that his lover was going to run off and sire little Snapes on some woman, although the thought of several little Severus Snapes running around was quite amusing. But he was happy that Dylan was not likely to hate him or be disgusted when--in some nebulous future--he found out that his two teachers were lovers. Severus loved Dylan, so Lupin wanted Dylan to like him. And Lupin sincerely liked Dylan; he found himself feeling almost fatherly towards the boy. Oddly enough, it was that very un-childlike, too-adult guardedness Severus had mentioned that made Lupin feel so protective of Dylan, because he knew it was a sign that the boy's childhood had been stolen from him--by Voldemort, by his grandmother's bitterness, by the prejudice of society in general. It was silly, Lupin knew, because even if his father was dead, Dylan still had a family that loved him, but he found himself wistfully imagining a future in which the war was over, and he, Severus, and Dylan formed an odd little family of sorts. Perhaps it was because Severus (though he would never admit it out loud) thought of Dylan like a son, and because Lupin had long ago--even before he and Severus became lovers--resolved never to have children; there was no way he would ever risk inflicting his curse on a son or daughter. Dylan was likely the closest both he and Severus would ever come to having a child. There was Harry, of course, but Harry regarded Lupin as more of a mentor and favorite teacher than a parental figure; that role was rightfully filled by Sirius, his godfather. And although Severus had set aside his grudges enough to teach Harry, Lupin doubted that he would ever be able to like the boy, much less love him. Dylan was someone they could both love...

"But someday," Lupin whispered. "Someday, when it's safe, we can tell him?"

Snape did not quite understand the look of sorrow and yearning in Lupin's eyes, but he said, "Someday," and tenderly kissed his lover on the forehead, and Lupin seemed to be comforted by that.

Neither of them knew that "someday" would come sooner than they thought, and that it would not be safe at all...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Things went fairly well for Dylan as the first few weeks of school progressed. Snape was driving them harder than ever, to prepare them for their O.W.L.s, but Dylan had no trouble keeping up in Potions class; indeed, he relished the challenge, and was happy to help his less-adept classmates with their homework, although he was careful not to let Draco catch him at it. He and his classmates also continued to surreptitiously enjoy Lupin's class; they were still working on their Patronus Charms, as well as studying shield spells and countercurses. And Lupin had caught Brad Doherty off guard, when he returned Brad's "punishment" essay to him the following week.

"Well done, Brad," Lupin said cheerfully. "You really did your research on this." Lupin grinned mischievously. "And your illustrations were first-rate; very realistic." He held up the piece of parchment so the class could see the detailed drawings Brad had done of a werewolf and a real wolf, with little notes scribbled next to each picture pointing out the subtle differences between the two. "Ten points to Slytherin."

Brad sat up a little straighter in his chair, beaming with pride, until he remembered that Lupin was supposed to be the enemy, then flushed and scowled at the werewolf. Lupin just smiled and held out the parchment to him. Brad snatched it out of his hand, and for a moment Dylan thought he was going to crumple it up and throw it away, but instead he very carefully rolled it up and stowed it away in his bookbag.

Professor Blackmore's class was fascinating, although she was as strict and terrifying a teacher as Snape; she had the entire class--even the rowdiest of the Slytherins--too petrified with fear to step out of line. Dylan could not quite put his finger on it; she was a beautiful young woman, and had (so far) never actually harmed any of her students, but there was something about her that projected an aura of power and menace. And there was a very strange quality about her emerald-green eyes; they were not the eyes of a thirty or even forty-something year old woman...they seemed somehow ancient and otherworldly, more befitting of a faerie queen or demon princess than a schoolteacher, and Dylan was reminded of those old rumors about her family's supposed demon blood, and of her mysterious disappearance fifteen years ago.

Whatever the reason, Dylan and his classmates were always very well-behaved in Incantations class. He had not yet worked up the courage to talk to her privately about his father, but occasionally he caught her staring at him in class thoughtfully. And one day, when they had been practicing drawing protective circles in class, Blackmore stopped to examine his handiwork and said, "You have a very careful and precise touch, Mr. Rosier--much like your mother. Good work; five points to Slytherin." She actually gave him a small smile, but before Dylan had time to react, she had already moved on and was berating another student for their sloppy work.

And then, of course there was Quidditch. Draco was in a much better mood of late, because Montague had graduated, and Snape had appointed Draco Captain of the Slytherin team. And, of course, Montague's departure meant that there was another opening on the team...
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"I'm going to try out for the team," Damien announced eagerly as the usual foursome of friends were doing their homework one night. They had gathered in Dylan's and Damien's dorm room rather than the common room, in an attempt to keep a low profile and avoid arousing Draco's ire.

"What about you, Theo?" Dylan asked. "Are you going to try out?"

"No," Theodore replied flatly.

"Why not?" Damien asked, looking surprised. "I figured you'd be a shoe-in, being so tight with Malfoy and all. And I thought you liked Quidditch--"

"I do," Theodore replied, looking almost as sour as Snape. "But I more than have my fill of Malfoy lording it over me all day long in class; I don't much fancy being bossed around on the Quidditch Pitch by him as well." There was an awkward silence, then Theo managed a slightly twisted smile and said, "But good luck to you, Damien. I'll be cheering you on."

"Yes, well, I suppose I should thank you," Damien said, trying to make light of it, "since my chances of making the team will be better now. I don't mind sucking up to Malfoy a bit to make the team; it seems to be a prerequisite of entering Slytherin House, anyway..." He fell to the floor and began groveling extravagantly. "Yes, sir, Malfoy, whatever you say, Lord Malfoy..."

He looked so ridiculous that the other boys had to laugh. "Get up, you clown," Theo snorted, prodding Damien slightly with his foot.

Damien got up and picked up his textbook again, but looked pleased that he'd managed to cheer up his usually-morose friend. "So what about you, Blaise?" he asked. "Going to try out?"

"No, no, no," Blaise said fervently, shaking his head. "I'm not much good on a broomstick; I got bucked off on my first flying lesson." He turned a little red, no doubt remembering his classmates' laughter; Slytherins were not exactly known for their compassion. "Anyway, I agree with Theo about Malfoy." He gave his friend a sympathetic smile. "He's already chewed me out once for doing too well in Potions class; the last thing I want to do is attract more attention to me, good or bad."
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So Damien tried out and made the team, joining Dylan as a Chaser. Malfoy scowled a little when he heard that Potter had been made Captain of the Gryffindor team, but seemed a little consoled by the fact that at least they held equal status. Dylan silently thanked every god he could think of that Montague had graduated last year; there would have been no living with Draco if Potter had been made a Captain while he was still a mere team member.

Meanwhile, the Gryffindors, even the girls, began to treat Dylan more coldly than usual, once word of how he had turned on Ginny Weasley got out, as he discovered one day in the library...

Dylan was studying in a secluded corner of the library late one afternoon. He was taking notes on a Summonings text that was a reference book, and thus, "Not allowed out of the library; no exceptions," Madam Pince had informed him coldly, and he knew better than to argue with her.

Hermione Granger walked by carrying a large stack of books, started to sit at the table, then saw Dylan and said in an icy voice, "Oh, I didn't know YOU were here."

From the look in her eyes, that coldness was real and not feigned. He looked around carefully to make sure they were really alone, then gave her his most charming smile. "Hermione--"

She just looked down her nose at him in a such a disdainful way that it would have put Narcissa Malfoy to shame. "I heard how you treated Ginny in Professor Lupin's class."

Dylan sighed. He had forgotten that she and the Weasley girl were friends. "Aw, come on, Hermione," he said. "You know I didn't mean it."

She dropped her books onto the table with a loud thump and sat down across from him, still looking rather irritated, but at least she wasn't doing her Ice Queen imitation anymore. "Every time you do something mean, Dylan Rosier, you always say afterwards, 'I didn't mean it'..."

"How would it look to Malfoy if I hid behind a Gryffindor girl's skirts?" Dylan asked, and Hermione glared at him. "Okay, bad analogy," he said hastily, holding up his hands as if trying to ward off an attack, cringing with a look of exaggerated fear on his face. Hermione tried to keep the stern look on her face, but her lips twitched upwards in a smile, and she gave in and laughed.

"Oh, all right, I forgive you, even though I shouldn't!" she said. "You really hurt her feelings, you know, and she always thought you were nice even though Ron and some of the other Gryffindor boys were always putting you down."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry, really I am, but I have to keep up my cover."

"I know," she said in a quieter voice. "Professor Snape told me. I guess I shouldn't be talking to you right now, should I?"

"Not really," he reluctantly agreed.

"Are you really in danger, Dylan?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I can't talk about it," Dylan said quietly. "For your safety, as well as mine. I wish I could." Hermione nodded and picked up her books, preparing to leave. "Hermione, wait! Professor Snape talked to you during the summer?" She nodded. "When did that happen? What were you doing talking to Snape during summer vacation, anyway?"

She looked uncomfortable. "I...I can't talk about it, either."

Dylan stared at her, wondering what secret she and Snape could possibly be sharing. "Well," he said slowly, "it looks as if we both have secrets to conceal."

"Looks like it," she agreed. "Be careful, Dylan."

He was about to reply, "You too," when he heard footsteps approaching, and said in a loud voice, "I don't care if I hurt your little friend's feelings, Granger! That will teach her not to interfere with her betters!"

Hermione blinked, looking surprised for just a moment, then quickly retorted, "Her 'betters'? I think all the adulation you get from the female students has swelled your head, you arrogant little git! Ginny Weasley is worth ten of you!"

"Ha! I'm worth ten Weasleys--and come to think of it, there are at least ten of them, aren't there?"

Serafina Avery stopped in her tracks, and looked from Dylan to Hermione and back again, her violet eyes expressionless. "This is a library," she said mildly. "You should keep your voices down."

"I'm sorry for the disturbance, Serafina," Hermione said politely, then shot Dylan one last glare--although there was just a hint of laughter in her eyes--before turning on her heel and stalking away.

"And what are you looking at, Avery?" Dylan snarled, feeling rather grumpy at having his brief conversation with Hermione interrupted.

Serafina was staring at him with a look of mingled puzzlement and contempt. "You confuse me, Rosier," she said, still in that mild, almost conversational voice. "Sometimes you act almost human, and other times, like now, I could swear that you were really Draco Malfoy in disguise."

Dylan stared at her in surprise; that was more than she normally said in a week! "So what's it to you?" he asked, more curious than angry.

"It's nothing to me," she replied in an indifferent voice, "if you want to be Draco Malfoy's lapdog."

Dylan felt his face turning red; now he was angry. "Look who's talking!" he snapped. "Your father was Draco's father's lapdog, and look where it's gotten him!"

"I know," Serafina replied, apparently not offended. "But I thought you were smarter than my father."

Now Dylan was utterly confused. He wavered for a moment, torn between caution and curiosity; curiosity won out. "Aren't you looking forward to the glorious day when the Dark Lord triumphs and his followers, including your father, reign supreme over the wizarding world?" he asked, in a sarcastic voice so that he could claim later that he was just joking, in case anyone heard about it and tried to use it against him.

Serafina's usually expressionless eyes were now filled with pure contempt. "You're a fool, Rosier, if you think anyone other than the Dark Lord will 'reign supreme'. The fact that my father's in prison and your father's dead ought to tell you something."

Dylan bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming at her. Even if Evan Rosier had made a terrible, foolish mistake by joining the Death Eaters, he was still Dylan's father. {Control,} he reminded himself. {Stay in control.} He snapped the book shut, grabbed his things, and rose from his seat.

"If you're done with that book, I'd like it," Serafina said calmly. "That's why I came looking for you. Madam Pince said you had it, so I came to ask if I could read it when you were done."

Dylan took a deep breath and counted to ten in his mind, then handed her the book, resisting the urge to throw it at her head. After leaving the library, he calmed down a little--after all, she hadn't said anything that was untrue. Well, he wasn't Draco's lapdog, but since he had deliberately cultivated that image, he couldn't really blame her for thinking that. But he was surprised to learn that she didn't seem to approve of her father being a Death Eater. He had assumed that Serafina, like Draco, and like himself before he had learned the truth about the Dark Lord, wanted to follow in her father's footsteps. Isn't that what all the children of the Death Eaters wanted? Dylan frowned. Maybe not. He didn't want it, and Serafina obviously didn't, either. Did Theo? His friend had always agreed with Draco and parroted his opinions, but on the other hand, he had made it clear that he didn't much like Draco, and only hung out with him because that was what was expected of him. And he didn't seem to be very concerned about his father, who was in Azkaban along with Draco's and Serafina's fathers, not to mention Crabbe's and Goyle's. So perhaps Theo did not much care for the Death Eaters, either, although he had never said so.

{But I'm his friend,} Dylan thought. {Wouldn't he tell me the truth?} But then again, Dylan had not told Theodore the truth, had he? His mother had told him to trust no one, so he had not told even his closest friends that he aspired to follow in his father's footsteps and become a Death Eater, nor had he told them of his growing misgivings, and he had certainly not told them when the Dark Mark had been forced upon him. So it was not really unthinkable that his friends might be keeping a few secrets from him...that was a very disconcerting thought.

Later that night, at their usual study session, Dylan asked Theodore, "What do you know about Serafina Avery? I ran into her at the library and she was acting a little weird."

"Weird how?" Theodore asked. "That girl is just plain weird to begin with; you need to be a little more specific, Rosier."

Dylan paused as he mentally edited the afternoon's events into something safe for him to discuss, and was reminded once again about how much he was hiding from his friends. "Well, she actually spoke to me, for one thing," he said wryly.

"She did?" Damien asked incredulously, then grinned. "I told you she had a crush on you, Dylan! Eh, you can do better than that, though, when you've got girls like Lisa Turpin or the Patil sisters drooling over you. Avery's kind of scrawny and plain-looking."

"She's got nice eyes," Blaise said in an offhand manner without looking up from his book.

"Ah, so that's your type, is it?" Damien teased. "Too bad she's hung up on Dylan!" Blaise just smiled and shook his head.

"She's not hung up on me," Dylan protested.

"The girl's a freak!" Theodore snapped, scowling fiercely.

Blaise raised his eyebrows and said mildly, "Well, you don't have to be mean about it, Theo."

"Well, she IS weird," Theodore muttered sullenly. "She never says anything, just stares at you with that freaky look on her face, like you're one of the specimens in Snape's jars..."

"You have nice eyes, too, Theo," Damien cooed, batting his eyelashes playfully. "No need to be jealous!"

"Oh, bugger off, Pierce!" Theodore--whose eyes were an odd, murky shade of gray-green--snarled, his face turning red.

"Jeez, some people just can't take a joke," Damien muttered, sounding a little hurt.

"So what did she say to you, anyway?" Blaise asked Dylan hastily, giving Theodore a puzzled look.

"Well, she caught me arguing with Hermione Granger," Dylan replied casually. "She was chewing me out for hurting Ginny Weasley's feelings--"

Damien snickered. "Aw, I bet if you went and apologized and made nice to Ginny, she'd forgive you like that!" He snapped his fingers. "She is pretty cute, and--" Damien grinned wickedly. "--Ron Weasley would have a fit if you started dating his sister!"

"Are you out of your mind, Pierce?!" Dylan said disbelievingly. "Draco would kill me if I dated a Gryffindor girl, especially Weasley's sister!"

"True," Damien said, heaving a sigh of disappointment. "Too bad, she really is kind of hot. Did you notice that she filled out a little over the summer?" Damien leered and said, "Do you think Malfoy would care if I went out with a Gryffindor?"

"Yes," Dylan and Theo said firmly, and Damien sighed again.

"Do you ever think about anything but girls?" Blaise asked.

"Not really," Damien replied cheerfully.

"So what did Sera say when she walked in on your argument?" Theodore asked curiously.

"'Sera'?" Blaise asked, raising his eyebrows again. "Not 'the freak'?"

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, that was kind of mean of me. But we're Slytherins; we're supposed to be mean! Nasty, evil, slimy..." His friends laughed, and Theo smiled a little. "Sera's her nickname, sort of. I can't really say we were friends, but our parents were, so I've known her since I was, like, five years old. 'Serafina' was too big a mouthful, so I used to just call her Sera. So, anyway, what did she say?"

"She said that sometimes I seemed almost human, and at other times, I was just like Draco Malfoy."

The other three boys burst out laughing. "Oh, that's a good one," Damien said, laughing so hard that he had to wipe tears from his eyes. "I'd love to see her say it to Malfoy's face!"

"I take it she's no fan of Malfoy, despite the...er...family connection?" Dylan said delicately, and Damien and Blaise, who were not the children of Death Eaters, looked a little uncomfortable.

Theodore frowned. "Who knows what she thinks? She never talks to anyone; I'm surprised she spoke to you at all."

Dylan hesitated, then asked, "What's her family like?"

Theodore looked uneasy. Draco bragged incessantly about how high his father ranked in the Death Eaters, but Theodore and Dylan, as if by unspoken agreement, said very little about their fathers or the Death Eaters in general. "Mr. Avery likes to act big, like the Malfoys do, but they outrank him, and he knows it. So he takes it out on his family; he knocks around Sera's mum, and he used to hit Sera, too. He's basically an overgrown bully." The expression on Theodore's face turned dark and brooding, and Blaise and Damien looked even more uncomfortable.

{So these are my father's comrades,} Dylan thought bitterly. {Lucius Malfoy, who lords it over everyone, and kidnapped my mother, his old friend's lover, to make me join the Death Eaters. Mr. Avery, who's apparently a wife-beater. And Mr. Nott is probably no prize, either.} He silently asked his father, {How could you have been taken in by these people? How could you have called them your friends?} Then he realized there was something odd about the way Theodore had phrased his words. "Used to hit Sera?" he asked.

"Used to," Theodore said, smiling in a rather nasty way. "Until she hexed him."

"Hexed him?!"

"Hexed him," Theodore agreed, still smiling. "Not long before she entered Hogwarts. Nasty one, too--he had to go to St. Mungo's to have it taken off. Lots of warts, blisters, and pustules. Oozing pustules." Damien made a face and pretended to gag. "Very painful, I imagine. Never touched her again, though he still yells at her. But she just ignores him like she ignores everything else. She's a little scary; you don't want to mess with her."

Damien shuddered a little, and Blaise said, "I'm having some trouble with my Potions homework...why is hemlock listed under both healing herbs and poisons?"

Dylan gratefully let him change the subject, and everyone looked relieved. "Well, obviously, hemlock is poisonous, but in small doses it can be used as a sedative--"

"There must be easier ways of putting someone under than giving them a deadly poison," Damien said dryly, and his friends laughed, a little louder than his joke deserved, and they talked about nothing more serious than homework and girls for the rest of the night.
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