After Mrs. Evans' death, the days seemed to go by slow and horribly long. The flat in East London was quiet, energy subdued, and everyone in their own thoughts. Lily moved about like a zombie, and though she went to her classes at uni and such, she didn't feel like doing much else. James or Sirius or Remus would suggest going for a walk or to the cinema or put on some music and try at getting her to cheer up, but she would either pass the opportunity up altogether or slip away the first chance she got to the bedroom. The curtains drawn, the lights low - Lily would simply lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in herself.

They each tried talking with her - after all, each of them had lost someone that they could relate to Lily's pain. James tried to tell her how much memories of Charlus helped him to cope, and Remus suggested they make some of her mum's favorite foods for dinner, recipes that would be comforting. Sirius recommended journaling, writing poems or songs, listening to music, and generally trying to distract oneself from the thoughts that clouded the mind. Of the four Marauders, though, it was Peter who helped the most.

"We don't have to talk," Peter said to Lily. "We can cry if you rather just have someone to cry with."

Lily held his hand and they sat in the dark together, not talking, for nearly an entire day. The funny thing was that as Lily held Peter's hand, she could feel his loneliness in her own palms. She looked at Peter, his round face and chubby body so different than the builds of Sirius, Remus, and James, and Lily realized just how different from the other three Peter really was - how much more quiet, how much more anxious. His anxiety ran through him like a live wire had been cut loose and all of the electricity moved as a strong current through him. It echoed in her own nerves as she sat with him. Peter, Lily realized, needed the Marauders so much more than they needed him. So she decided to be strong for Peter, and got on with taking all of the boys' suggestions.

"I've made a stroganoff," Lily announced.

"A whoosa-hoff?" Sirius asked, rolling to look up at her as she came out of the kitchen. He was laying on his stomach in the living room in front of a portable record player, from which came the sounds of Elton John's brand new single - Part-Time Love.

You've been seen running around

There's not much I don't hear of and still you try

Telling me all the things I must stay clear of
Don't tell me what to do
When you been doing it too
Because you, me and everybody's got a part time love

Lily repeated, "I made stroganoff. My mum's recipe."

"The bloody hell is that?" Sirius asked.

"It's a Russian dish," Remus said, without looking up from a book that he had balanced on his knee. "Beef, noodles, creamy sauce."

"I like beef," Sirius announced, pushing himself up from the floor to his feet. He flicked his wand with a limp wrist and the record shrieked to a stop.

"No leave it on," Lily said, "The music is nice. I like Elton John."

"Alright." Sirius flicked his wrist again and an album came flying from the shelf, "Let me switch it out though, this one's just a single..."

Captain Fantastic, raised and regimented, hardly a hero
Just someone his mother might know
Very clearly a case for Corn Flakes and classics
Two teas both with sugar please
In the back of an alley...

Remus and Sirius sat down in the kitchen and Lily piled food onto plates for them, as well as one for herself.

It was mid afternoon and though the stroganoff was a bit heavy for lunch, neither boy dared ask if they ought not wait for James to get home - they were just glad to see Lily up and about again. Remus ate with relish - halfway through the moon cycle and he was famished, seemingly unable to eat enough to satiate himself - and Lily happily spooned extra heaps of the stuff onto his plate.

She sat, watching them, barely picking at her own food, and when they were both nearly done with their second helpings, she said, "Remus? Sirius?"

"Yeah?" Sirius asked 'round a mouthful of stroganoff.

Lily smiled and reached her arms out, taking each of their hands in her own. "You lot mean so much to me, I really am glad to have you as my friends."

James neatened his tie and fastened on the badge that declared him to be a Junior Assistant to Mr. Underhill as well as an Auror in Training. He slid his Ministry-Issued Identification by the clip they'd given him that hung on his belt beside the leather wand scabbard that Evans had given him years ago, and he took a deep breath. He hoped his ID would give him enough clearance to access the files he needed - else, he may just have to resort to some old Marauding skills, he thought, and he absently patted the bulge in his bag that was the wadded up Invisiblity Cloak.

St. Mungo's nearest entrance was through what appeared to muggles to be an old, abandoned-looking fashion boutique, with grime-coated windows and mannequins that had been put together in painfully contorted ways that made them appear almost double-jointed. They wore clothes that were horridly out of fashion, even for the wizarding world. Nobody ever gave it a second glance, and it was therefore easy to slip through the barrier and into the waiting room of the hospital.

James walked confidently up to the young witch at the receptionist counter, who sat chewing a ball of Drooble's Best so that it cracked between her teeth as her jaw swiveled about. She looked up from a form she was filling out as James leaned against the counter with his most charming smile shining from his face.

"Mornin'," he drawled, and his eyes twinkled.

The witch stared at him, blinking in surprise. "Good morning," she said, an almost untrusting tone to her voice, like she didn't think that he was real. An apparition, perhaps, of handsome features and brilliantly fluffy hair.

James looked around, "Quiet this morning, 'ey?"

"For now," she said, nodding. She glanced about, mirroring his action, and then turned back to him. "Can I help you?" He didn't look injured, she thought.

"Yeah, Love, I bet you can," James nodded, and the girl felt her heart skip a beat at the pet name, warming up to him easily as he leaned closer. She leaned closer, too, nearly knocking over a pumpkin juice she had sitting at her elbow. "You see, I need some information for a case I'm working on," he said.

"A case you're --" her eyes flickered to the badge and the gray wool of his auror's uniform. Her eyes widened.

"What's your name, Love?" James asked.

"Mona," she answered.

"What a great name," James smiled.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Mona, listen," James said, "This case - it's really important. I'm trying to find a missing little girl who might've been kidnapped by Death Eaters. You know - You Know Who's followers?"

Mona nodded, her eyes widening even more at these details.

"Well, see, I have to find out who might have interest in kidnapping the poor thing... but we don't know who her folks are exactly. Her mum died here a few years ago -- a muggle woman, but brought in by wizards. Another Auror, actually - Xavious Grant. The muggle woman's name was Anne Veigler." James put on his very best, most irresistible eyes. "Any chance you might be able to help me pull up her records? To find out what it was she died from, and if there's a visitor's log or anything that might be on her records that might help me find her?"

"I don't know," murmured Mona, "That's... very private information."

"I know," James pouted. "Which is why only someone really special would be able to help me out in accessing it.... but it really would help me find the girl." He paused, then opened his bag and pulled out the folder, opening it up and putting it onto the counter so that the Marjorie Grant's face stared up at Mona with her piercing eyes and sweet, chubby cheeks. "You'd be a real hero for little Marjorie here."

Mona's eyes softened. If James's good looks were not a challenge enough to resist, then the little girl was the straw which broke the back of her resolve. "Merlin, that poor little thing," she murmured.

"So you'll help me then?" James pleaded.

Mona hesitated slightly, then rolled her chair backward to a small cupboard, opening it up and taking out a key ring and a small sign. She put the sign on the counter and James looked down to read it. It gave directions to the next reception counter and an apology that the desk was unoccupied for a moment.

"Come with me," Mona said, "We can check the hall of records."

"Oh you are brilliant, Mona, positively brilliant," James grinned, and followed the witch through the halls of St. Mungo's.

The offer to show Oni Lamm the Magizoology Library was accepted and a plan put into action less than a week later, the day before Halloween. Regulus was skivving off a Potions class to go with Oni, but it felt worth it. It had been ages since Potions had really felt as though it was worth attending at all - Slughorn had taken to favoring Regulus and exclaiming over anything at all he produced as though it were the holy grail of potion-making... even when it wasn't a pot fit to piss in.

Regulus met Oni by the front doors of the castle. It was raining, so he made an umbrella with his wand and showed her how to do the spell as well, to keep her curly black hair from being too badly damaged by the droplets as they fell from angry clouds above. Together, they ran across the yards to the stables and Regulus opened the doors and let Oni through first.

There were creatures in the stalls, cages, and tanks as usual and Oni smiled around at them all, her face full of wonder and excitement that mirrored the way Regulus had felt the first time he had stumbled into the stables. Oni stopped by the pen of a thestral and reached out a gentle palm to touch the skeletal nose.

"You can see him," Regulus said - a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah," Oni replied, nodding.

"Who was it?" he asked, then he turned red and scrambled, "I mean, if you wanna tell me. You don't have to. I - I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Oni answered. She smiled sadly. "It was my Aunt and Uncle, back home. That's why my family sent me here to Hogwarts. It's safer here."

Regulus held back from snorting in disbelief that anywhere was less safe than the UK had become, with Voldemort on the rampage he'd been lately... He considered this, "So you're not from Britain then?"

Oni shook her head. "Egypt, actually."

Regulus thought this made quite a lot of sense - given the accent he couldn't place, the toffee-milk-chocolate warm glow of her skin, and her wide, almond shaped eyes. "Is it nice there?"

"It's alright."

"So you like Hogwarts, then?"

"Very much..." Oni nodded. Her fingers caressed the thestral's face and Regulus walked closer and stroked it, too, so that their hands kept brushing. Oni's voice was quiet. "Do you know what it's like to be alone, even when you're surrounded by your family?" she asked.

"I do, actually," Regulus replied. "Is that what it was like for you?"

Oni nodded. She let her hand slip away from the thestral, watching Regulus's palm as he touched the horse softly. "I've heard rumors you know. About the Black family."

Regulus hesitated. "And?"

"You don't seem like you are the way they say your family is."

Regulus shrugged. 

"I can tell you haven't heard of my family," she continued after a moment.

"No, I haven't, you're right," Regulus answered. He looked at her and their eyes locked. "If I had, what would I have heard?"

"That my Aunt and Uncle were murdered by aurors," Oni answered. "They wouldn't have said murdered, though, they don't use words like murder for something they think is justified, do they? They say things like executed for that."

Regulus's eyes searched Oni's.

"They would say that my Aunt and Uncle deserved to die and that my Mother and Father ought to have done, as well. They'd say that I should have, too, and my brother."

He asked, "And what would you say to all that?"

"I would say that I'm not like they say my family is, either."

Regulus let these words sink in between them for several moments. Then, "Well, why don't we tell each other what we are really like, then?"