Hey again! This chapter is dedicated to possibly one of the bravest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Rosie I love you so much, keep being strong and beautiful and amazing!
chespin44 ♥️♥️♥️

(16th June 1977)

James Potter rarely did things by halves. He was either all guns blazing or still in bed. That was just how he worked, and so when he came bursting into the office of the Headmaster he did so at ungodly hours of the morning and with the sort of bellicose that might wake the dead (or the sleeping portraits).

"What do you mean I can't go home?! My mother is dying?! We have a week left of term, sir! A week!"
It had never been uncommon for James to be opinionated, if it weren't so then the MPP, frankly wouldn't need a review because it simply wouldn't exist. He often ran into situations driven on impulsion and impulsion alone, and he had often paid for his discontent as reflected in his record amount of detentions. James Potter did not shy away from authority, he thrived in the challenge. Whether that was cretinous or the contrary wasn't for him to say, although he preferred not to ponder too much on it.

"Mr Potter you must understand that it is in your best interests to stay behind for the final week of term. You still have a Muggle Studies NEWT to sit and your organisation is under review as of today." The Headmaster replied, the very essence of tranquil, observing his student with a deathly forestalling bemusement. It was unfathomable how Dumbledore seemed to be in complete equanimity with the world; it might end now and he'd be too busy philosophising why to bother saving himself.

"I don't give a toss about Muggle Studies, with all due respect, professor. I'll take the NEWT again in seventh year. Sirius'll probably fail anyway," James tossed a hand to the side, mimicking flicking the apparent extraneous issue away like an insect.

"Mr Potter, your mother wouldn't wish to have you marching home looking as vehemently angry as you are now. It wouldn't do anyone any good."

"My mother wouldn't want me wasting my time!"

"Exactly."

James fixed his eyes a few feet above Dumbledore, to the plethora of rows of hardback books that sat in elegant an orderly rows. It reminded him of the library in Potter Manor– his old home.

"I taught your mother, you know?"

James looked down, fixing narrowed eyes on his Headmaster who looked calm in the sort of way a fool might. He was yet to learn the true extent of the hardship of getting James Potter to change his mind. It was much like a lamb trying to negotiate with the butcher's knife.

"I didn't." James commented, still no less skeptical.

"I taught her Transfiguration back in the day. She was a model student, always looking out for others, making sure they were alright. It was no surprise she chose a career in charity. Something I believe she passed on to you," Dumbledore looked away from James and began voyaging towards the golden cage that Fawkes currently occupied, sleeping soundly. He seemed almost as though he'd completely forgotten his protégé stood at the other end of the office and he was talking to himself.

"One Sunday your mother came to be, much like you are now and she was insisting I fire the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. She was very sure he had been using all sorts of magic with the younger children that wasn't on the syllabus; I believed her, of course, because your mother never lied. Never. But of course, folk like your mothers teacher tend to be very careful about hiding the evidence of such things and so, naturally, there was no proof to be found. And I told her this, she was ready to kill him herself, I don't think I'd ever seen a pupil as timid as her so angry: it was a defiance of nature. But I told her, your mother, I told her that if no evidence is to present itself to me I wouldn't stop her from finding her own."

James kept his eyes fixed on Dumbledore as he left Fawkes alone and wondered back to sit by his desk, inviting James to do the same. He came closer but did not sit.

"And she did. She came to me a week later with all sorts of things and I couldn't confidently say how she had acquired them but there they were. Naturally I had no choice but to fire him. From then on your mother took on the roll of ridding Hogwarts of the iniquitous– and I must admit, James, she did a better job than I ever did."

"Why are you telling me this?" James interjected, breaking the spell of Dumbledore's monologue, who smiled at him from behind a pair of half moon spectacles.

"Because I've come to understand that one should not doubt a Potter's better judgement."

"And why is that?"

"Because your mother was right. And it's because of her that Professor Carrow was taken out the school for good. And it was down to you that Miss Connolly is the only pupil to be faced with such cruelty in a very long while. Without you I believe there would have been a death in this very castle against a Muggleborn like Aliona but there has not been of late." He sighed, small tufts of silver hair blew around his beard as he did, "I forbid you from leaving the castle, James. But if you left, unnoticed, I would doubt there would be a way to stop you." He paused and considered James for a short moment, who was looking at his teacher with a level of casual aloofness that would be respected considering James and his habit for the inability to do things by halves.

He gave Dumbledore as innocuous a look as he possibly could. Clutching on to the cigarette packet in his robe to ground him, almost crushing them (the only reason he didn't was because it would ruin the prospect of chain smoking them as soon as he got out this godforsaken room).

"You should try and get some sleep. It's almost morning and you have a day of classes ahead which I trust you will be attending?"

"Of course sir."

"Then you may go."

Without a second thought James stood and made his way across the office towards the door, doing his best to put one foot on front of the other without appearing like he was trying to run.

Dumbledore watched him disappear down the staircase, a very small smile on his thin lips. James would be in a lot of trouble, he thought.
Perhaps he would make him Headboy?...

♣ ♣ ♣

(16th June 1977 continued...)

When Sirius awoke the sun had barely risen and there was a shadow frolicking around the room like an idiot. It must have been a dream.

When the shadow started swearing Sirius decided to reevaluate his premature conclusion. But it was only when said shadow began throwing clothes into a bag that Sirius fully registered what was going on.

"Prongs? Where the bloody hell are you going?!"

James Potter –the shadow– considered Sirius in benumb for a moment before buckling his trunk and skidding over to his friend's bed, tripping over sweet wrappers in the dark.
"I'm leaving."

"Did Arthur Conan Doyle write that script? Thanks genius but I gathered the clues."

James glared, "you just woke up and you're already tearing me a new one?"

"Yes."

His eyes found the ceiling, "fine. I'm leaving, Marlene has a letter that you should read."

Sirius rolled over so he could push himself into a sitting position and subsequently fixate James with an exasperated look, "that's all you're going to tell me?"

James nodded, "oh, and keep the mirror on you at all times, update me on Aliona and if she wakes up let me speak to her. And do me a favour?"

"What?"

"Look after Trudy. I promised I'd help her."

Sirius nodded, sensing the solemnity the moment called for, "marauder's honour."

"Thanks mate. And when you read the letter. Don't worry about me. I'll... I'll be alright, okay?"

He didn't give Sirius time to reply because he'd already scooped up his trunk and slipped through the darkness towards the pool of light the ajar door offered. He saluted him before disappearing...

There was a shortcut to Hogsmeade from inside the castle that was fairly vacant, provided Filch wasn't prowling the area like a cat (and they say that people end up looking like their pets). With the invisibility cloak, however, things became significantly easier in the expertise of dexterity and travel without getting caught. He reached the one-eyed witch in less than ten minutes, just as the sun had begun to rise, pink teasing the navy blue rather than fully dominating it. If he'd had time James might have appreciated the painter's pallet but today there was no time.

He emerged from the tunnel feeling slightly dizzy from the light but was otherwise perfectly okay to apparate from the Honeydukes storeroom. And so –after nicking two bars of honeycomb popping chocolate (one for Remus and the other for his mother)– he was on his way. Disappearing with a crack, almost as if he were never there.

(16th June 1977)

Insomnia was a bitch. Not even the dulcifying solitude of Oscar Wilde's Poems in Prose could save her from her own thoughts.

She considered if it would do so much harm to try and manipulate the bunch of wildflowers she had picked the previous day while looking for photo opportunities with Alice. No one would find out, and if no one found out then she could pretend she dreamt it. And as the strange Professor had told her almost exactly seven years ago: "a person can give a man everything they own. But they cannot give them their dreams." And what are dreams if not bandages for memories? That was what Lily thought. That if memories were bullets then dreams must be bandages.

She gently slipped out her bed, padding over to the slit of dawn light by the gap in her curtains that shone over her marble painted wall stricken with records and developed photographs, it gave a ghostly effect that Lily admired for a moment. The romance of the eeriness was something that only a reader would admire.

The wildflowers sat in a mason jar on her desk by the window, the dawn was blushing down on them too, and so the mason jar seemed to wink at her with a magical aura that made her want to get up this early more often. It made it worth the thick darkness of the witching hour just to soak the puckish hues of dawn, especially the dawns one sees in June.

It was a scene that she would like to have been able to paint, although in that respect Alice was a much better artist. Lily only really cared for photography.
Just as she was about to hunt down her camera something caught her eye, a small pop from the corner of the street. She glanced up and out the gap in the curtains –obscuring the celestial light– to her a better look at the scene outside.

Nothing.

She was about to curse her agog and plain nosiness before a figure made its way out the shadow. It was a boy, she realised after a second's enquiry. A fairly good looking boy from what she could gather, and he looked quite dismayed. He was hurrying to the door of the big house at the bottom of the hill. She wondered where he'd been.

Lily kept watching the street long after the boy disappeared, wondering what he was doing so late, and why the last time she remembered seeing him was at Christmas. Maybe he went to school with Dorcas' girlfriend? To a boarding school?

Oddly enough as she tore her eyes away from the window the first thing she set eyes on was her jewellery box perched on top of a shelf, next to a small army of notebooks: the bottom in which lay the letter she was due up for her seventh anniversary of receiving. She wasn't entirely sure why her eyes happened to choose the box on this particular day after glancing that particular character but she felt the urge to take it out.

Walking over to the box her feet seemed to stick to the carpet like invisible glue. She hadn't taken the parchment letter out it's box on any other day besides the 1st of September in all seven years of owning it. For some enigmatic reason it felt like a betrayal to do so now. And so she backed down, wondering what was wrong with her and no longer feeling on the mood for magic, instead she felt like a Judas to herself and her personal morals.

She climbed back into bed feeling like she'd just fallen one hundred feet and not at all like sleeping. Out of sheer accidie she counted the flowers. There were thirty. Thirty pieces of silver... she'd never even read the bible.

♥ ♥ ♥

(17th June 1977)

The dark room was a sanctuary like no other for Lily Evans. To her, it was magic. Not the kind she had hoped for but she kind she would settle for. The very fact that one can make a picture appear from something she found in real life and squeeze it into a tiny piece of paper in comparison to the scene was perhaps the most wonderful thing imaginable. She could manage to fit her heart into a bit of photo-paper.

By morning the gorgeous dawn had slipped away with the aggressive saturated blue of summer mornings and with it faded the happenings of last night until they seemed nothing more than a bandage –a dream.
Now, in the dark room she felt sure of herself, in control. She felt real.

Alice stood a few steps away, casting her own magic and deep in concentration. It was peculiar how a arbitrary the world could be. If they had taken the pictures a day ago the same flowers might not have been in bloom and therefore they mightn't have had these pictures to develop.

When they said Lily was a dreamer what they really meant was that she considered and gave copious amounts of her time away to the most stupid ideology about the most frivolous things. That was why she had always written imaginative pieces with absorption and rhapsodised essays. Words were their own magic she supposed, she just didn't quite know how to yield them like she did a camera.

Alice looked up, feeling a pair of eyes on her head. Her chestnut half bun slipped to the side when she tossed her head up to smile warmly at her friend.
"Are you alright, Lily?"

Lily nodded pensively, "do you think if Judas was offered less than thirty pieces of silver he might not have sold out Jesus?"

Alice gawped, dropping the clip she held in her hand and letting it splash in the developing liquid, "sorry?"

"Do you think that Judas—"

"—no I heard you, I just... where did you come up with that?!"

Lily shook her head, auburn hair narrowly missing her own tray, "it doesn't matter. Forget I said it."

Frank chose his moment well. He knocked gently on the door just as Alice noticed that she'd dropped one of the clips into her tray (Alice very rarely swore).

"Evening ladies," Frank said in a tone full of ebullience, studying the catastrophic scene with wild amusement.

"Hey Frankie, by any chance could you make yourself useful and go and get me that box over there?" Alice didn't look up from her mini disaster as she balanced world's end and darkroom development.

"That's not the best idea," he admitted, presenting his hands to her guiltily which were stained with soil.

"You've just been with the gardening club haven't you?"

He nodded, mousy brown curls shoogling around his head, adding an extra layer of frolic to the ray of sunshine that was Frank Longbottom.

Frank had always been the same: forgetful, yet buoyant and unable to comprehend sarcasm. From the get-go Lily could tell that the skinny, cheekily smiling little boy would be the only one for Alice. They were two sides of the same coin. Creative, adoring of useless poetry (or as Alice preferred to call herself the composer of axodography) and they would both rather jump off a bridge than get one of those horrible customised locks to put on one, like they do on the Pont des Arts.They might have been the most nauseatingly in love couple Lily had ever had the displeasure of being around but they drew the line at locks on bridges. That was absolutely final.

"Sorry, the box is white. I don't imagine you want it all spoilt?"

Alice shook her head with defeat, still not looking up from the minute concentration it took resolving the world end on front of her.
"You're a love, thank you."

"And you too are disgusting. God mum please pick me up!" Lily cried, wafting her final photo in the air for a short second before hanging it on the line.

"Jealous." Alice smirked.

"Maybe I am."

Frank giggled in a slightly undignified manner, grimacing a split second later as Alice snapped her head up so rapidly she got whiplash.

"That was Lily."

When they left the darkroom to meet with Dorcas they had almost convinced Alice that it was, in fact Lily and not Frank that made the awful sound.

As they reached cafe Indulge Alice fell into step with Lily. "I gave you're question more thought."

"Oh my god you did the Maths paper?! What was the last question?"

"No, you dolt!" Alice hit her arm, "your question about Judas."

"Ooh..."

"I reckon he would've still sold him out. Thirty prices of silver was a lot but in the end the fact he entertained the idea at all says that his mind was made up already."

Lily frowned, deep in a rabbit hole of thoughts that had been spiralling since her final argument with Severus.
"But he didn't take the coins really in the end cause he killed himself."

"I'm not disputing that," Alice agreed, waving a hand to motion Frank should go into the cafe while the two girls caught up, "I'm not saying he didn't feel sorry afterwards, I'm just saying that the fact that the idea was there already didn't help his case."

Lily could think of at least one person that had been her Judas over the years...

"Lily, Alice! You took so long I've had like... four coffees waiting for you I think I'm going to explode!" A tall, vivacious, caffeine high adolescent greeted the two girls as they finally came in the door by the name of Dorcas Meadowes. She was still dressed in her track uniform from her training session and her curls were failing to be held in her ponytail.

"Jesus Christ, caffeine is like your alcohol!" Lily remarked as she allowed herself to be dragged along to their usual table, the one by the window in a tranquil corner of the shop.

Frank was already there and shaking his head at the scene, the twinkle in his murky blue eyes was something like tenderness.

"Siddown you demon women and stop disturbing the customers!" He snapped, doing his very best impression of sternness, which unfortunately could be generously described as subpar.

The three girls sat but Dorcas did not let go of the other two's hands. Her leg was bouncing too, Lily was reminded of how an addict reacts to going clean.

No sooner had they gotten comfortable than Caroline, the cafe's head waitress, rushed over to greet them.
Over the years they had become somewhat well acquainted with Caroline (although none of them had ever managed to figure out her last name). Ever since they had started coming to her cafe after school she had given them extra marshmallows in their hot chocolate or the left over muffins for free. She was the one that had organised that Lily and Alice be allowed to make seasonal displays in the 'Local Art' wall of the cafe.

"How are my favourite children? And how is the summer display coming along?" Caroline asked with a bubbly smile that might melt ice. Caroline was a freckly brunette in her early thirties that was so slim she appeared emaciated.

"The project is currently drying off in the dark room," Alice replied with a proud beaming smile.

"Fabulous," (Caroline's catchphrase) "and what will we be having today? Dorcas, my love, do you want another cappuccino?"

Dorcas nodded with, about, enough enthusiasm to cure terminal illness and Caroline laughed, turning her attention to the other three who each ordered a different variant of latte.
She came back with the coffees and a plate of cookies, "I need to get short of them by the end of the day," she said, "you'd be doing me a favour."

Frank gave the waitress a thumbs up, "thank you, Miss Caroline."

"You know it makes me feel old when you call me that!"

"But you don't look a day older than twenty one!"

Alice rolled her eyes, "stop trying to seduce Caroline!"

"Please!" Lily scoffed, "when has Frank ever seduced anyone? He's a nun!"

"I'll leave you kids to it."

(17th June 1977)

The three remaining marauders sat in the common room accompanied by Marlene and Esme-Leigh. Outside the sun was setting lazily, seemingly in no rush to plunge anyone into darkness. That was what Hogwarts was like in the summer, the sun seemed to be in a better mood.

"I still don't see why it had to be you," Sirius Black scoffed flicking his wand in the direction of Remus, "I mean, I'm his best mate?!"

Remus' eyes were seeking refuge from the ceiling for, what must have been, the twelfth time since James had spoken to them in the two way mirror, "Its not just me! Esme-Leigh's in charge too!"

"Yes but she's Esme! She's hot I can understand why he put her in charge! Prongs has no self control when it comes to birds!"

This was evidently not the correct thing to say as Sirius found himself bracing for impact when Esme's head snapped round to glare at him with the sort of intensity that might combust him on the spot.

"I am not a bird thank you very much! And I vividly remember James saying he was putting me in temporary charge because –and I quote– 'if you want something done, put a woman in charge' and Remus is basically a woman too so it pans out pretty damn well!"
This was an extremely valid point as Sirius himself had heard it coming from his best friends mouth while discussing who was to take charge of the MPP in his absence. James had only been gone a whole day and yet everything seemed to be falling apart. Trudy and the MPP's hearings were starting tomorrow and they still had no idea how they were going to save either.

"Did you get the letter from McGonogall?" Marlene asked Remus, ignoring the sour expression on the other boy's face. (Peter seemed to be the only one not complaining).

"I did. All the information regarding the hearing is in here. D'ya reckon we should read it out to the MPP or can we just open it the now?"

Esme reached out for the letter and he handed it to her without complaint. She ran her slender fingers over the envelope deliberately, her circular glasses slipping down her freckled button nose.
"I vote we give it a read then decide what to do."

Nobody seemed to have any objections and so she broke the wax seal and lifted out a piece of folded parchment.
"To whom it may concern," she began.

"Nice and personal," Sirius lamented acerbically.

"Padfoot shut up! To whom it may concern,
Over the course of the week the Magical Prejudice Prevention will be under review by a member of staff who will remain strictly anonymous. Whomever is selected to be interviewed in support for the committee under no circumstances is allowed to reveal the identity of the professor conducting the review. Any violations of this rule will have severe consequences.
Five members of the Magical Prejudice Prevention will be allowed to testify in support of the committee and these five may be decided for yourselves. The first will testify tomorrow after lessons, the next after lessons on the Wednesday, the third on Thursday at the same time and so on. The chosen professor will come to a decision on the Saturday and the Magical Prejudice Prevention will be informed the same day. If the decision is against the committees favour then by week beginning 1st September the MPP will no longer be permitted to take place in castle grounds and will continue to be prohibited thereafter.

Sincerest regards,
Hogwarts Staff."

Esme concluded her recital grimly, folding the sheet back up and slipping it back in the envelope.

"Well, shit."

"Thank you for your insight, Lupin. Profound."

Peter covered his mouth with the back of his hand but it didn't take a sleuth to discover that he was sniggering.

"Wormy have you heard of sulphuric acid?"

Wormtail went deathly pale.

"Enough! Remus and Esme are in charge so it's you're call what you want to do," Marlene snapped, shushing Sirius' protests with a sharp clip round the ear.

"I say we decide as a group. And we should speak to Trudy as well; I imagine she got a similar letter and it wouldn't shock me to find out that the same professor was conducting her review." Esme-Leigh strategised logically, sweeping her hands in wide gestures (a habit she picked up from her mother).

"I'll talk to Trudy," Sirius offered immediately, remembering the promise he made to James. He needed to help her.

"Smashing. I'll call a meeting tonight then?" Remus pulled out his wand and tapped his badge, not waiting for a reply before he left the message...

Less than twenty minutes later thirty members of the Magical Prejudice Protection gathered in the lost and found room.

"Thank you for coming," Esme-Leigh began. Her hair was a stressful postbox red and it was tied using a rubber band, she stood on front of the chalkboard where the names of volunteers to do the rounds still hadn't been rubbed off. Remus was next to her looking equally as miffed as overall quite perplexed to be there.

"As some of you may know, James has left to be at home and he has placed myself and Remus in charge for the final week of term." She gestured to Remus who took over while she wiped the board clean.

"We received word of how the hearing will be taking place: one teacher will be in charge but their identity will be confidential. Five students will be selected to testify in favour of the club and they, under no circumstances, can allow anyone to find out who conducted their interview. Each of the five will be interviewed separately and on different days, the final decision will be made on the Saturday. Any questions?"

A few hands were raised, Esme scanned the room, "Julia?"

"Who will testify?"

"Excellent question: we get to choose. Me and Remus discussed this and we came to the conclusion that Sirius, Marlene, Remus and Jazzy would be the ones to testify. They're all close to the heart of the club and, bar Jasmine, have been from the start, Remus is a prefect and Jazzy is also Headgirl. Does anyone have any complaints or suggestions?"

No one said anything and so Esme grinned as her hair faded to a soft baby pink, "splendid..." the meeting was hereafter called to a close...

Trudy Nott wasn't the most gorgeous girl to walk the planet but she was respectably pretty and yet somehow Esme-Leigh realised she looked hauntingly lovely when she cried.

"Trudy are you alright?"

The small brunette girl shook her head before collapsing into Esme's arms.
"I-I don't know if I can do this! I'm supposed to have..." she choked and Esme-Leigh patted the back of her neck comfortingly, "I need to have a friend that can vouch for me and... my only real friend is Al and she's... oh god she's not going to wake up is she?!"
Trudy had a round and comforting Donegal accent that suited her very well but it wasn't made for crying.

"No! No she will wake up. We'll make sure she wakes up, okay? And I'll testify for you, alright? And I'm sure Mary will too if you need more than one. It'll be okay, Trudy, I promise." Esme held the smaller girl in her arms, she was shaking like she was made of ceramic and if she let go then she might come apart and shatter into a million little pieces.

"Thank you, Esme. Thank you so much." Trudy smiled at her with hazelnut brown eyes glassed with tears. Her similarly coloured hair was dirty and her tie was loose but she still looked rather beautiful when she cried...

♣ ♣ ♣

(18th June 1977)

Today it starts. And it started in the great hall with three marauders, two girls and a miserable and anxious Trudy.
Esme-Leigh was the first to speak for Trudy in the morning and then Remus would begin proceedings for the MPP.

"I was wondering last night who might have been with Mulciber when... y'know? And I wondered who had the map that night... and I realised it was me," Sirius took a sip of coffee.

"That's all well and good but where are you going with this?" Peter asked with a hint of frustration.

"Well I used the map to see where Filch was and I realised where I wanted to be in order to keep out his way was occupied. I don't know why I never realised it before but the corridor right next to... there was Kieron Mulicibrr, Florence Flint and Severus Snape."

"Are you sure?" Esme-Leigh frowned, instinctively grabbing hold of Trudy's wrist who was sitting next to her.

"Quite. They fit the bill don't they?"

Marlene nodded, "do we bring it up?"

"I'll take care of it. As long as Trudy promised that she won't do anything... rash?"

"I wouldn't dare."

"Then leave it to me."

Esme-Leigh arrived in the empty classroom at precisely nine o clock –the agreed time for the meeting– and was greeted with an angular looking man watching her from his desk, sizing her up for threats. (She switched her hair from honey blonde to a stern jet black and she blinked twice, darkening her eyes too).

Professor Playford frowned, "take a seat."

"Gladly, fine morning isn't it professor?"

Playford nodded, peering at her with calculated effort. She smiled sweetly, like a cherub that had just descended from heaven.

"Lovely morning yes. Now, Ms Bisset I have a few questions to ask you about your classmate and roommate Trudy Nott, is that alright?"

"Oui, c'est bonne."

"Firstly I'd appreciate it if you would talk to me a little bit about Ms Nott. What sort of person is she?" The professor was reading off a small mountain of paperwork, clearly too much to be for just one student, Esme wasn't stupid: Professor Playford was holding the MPP meetings as well.

"Certainly," she shifted in her seat and let her eyes twinkle at him, "Trudy is a beautiful soul. She's never been unpleasant to me or anyone that I know, she's always mediated petty arguments in the dorm and she's always been going around looking after everyone. This... incident is a one off."

"So you think it was a manic episode?"

Esme-Leigh nodded, adopting her best angelic expression, pulling her crochet cardigan around her shoulders and hugged herself, "but of course! You don't think someone like Trudy would ever do something like this again do you?! But I'll tell you who would do it again –and will do it again– is Kieron Mulciber. If he is to wake up there is no doubt that he'll carry on attacking Muggleborns."

This seemed to shock Playford and he considered her in a moment of silence, clearly still impervious to her subtle magic of hypnotism that did her so well as a Veela.
"So you don't think that Ms Nott will continue to attack the perpetrators of these muggleborn encounters?"

She shook her head, pushing her glasses up her nose with care, "you said it yourself, sir. Kieron is the perpetrator. Not Trudy."

"I see."

"I don't think you do, Professor." Her hair was slowly slipping down her back, growing in length and fading to a midnight purple, almost so subtle he didn't notice, "Trudy is kind. And she's almost as loyal as a Potter; she tries to fix all of her friends problems, and of course, sometimes she can be a little much but it comes from a place of care. Mulciber's attacks do not come from a place of care, do they sir."

"I don't suppose so."
Playford was frowning, he looked almost confused; her scheme was working its magic, slowly.

"Neither do I." She leant forward, adopting her most vulnerable expression, "the problem is, sir, Trudy isn't an angry creature. She's too small for pique– only five feet tall. But you see other people are filled to the brim with anger. People like Mulciber and Flint and Snape– in case you didn't know they were with Kieron during the attack on Aliona. So I'm asking you, sir: why aren't they under review? Why aren't they expelled?"

Playford blinked. Once. Twice.

"Thank you, Ms Bisset, that will be all."

♣ ♣ ♣

(18th June 1977 continued)

It was almost lunch time when Minerva McGonogall came flouncing into the sixth year's Ravenclaw and Gryffindor charms class in a fan of emerald robes and a pinched expression. She asked for Trudy Nott, Esme-Leigh Bisset and Marlene McKinnon.

"Follow me." Was all she instructed before leading them to the hospital wing.

Esme elbowed Marlene when they reached the top of the stairs, "we'll wait here for a moment, Professor." Marlene nodded in solidarity and Minerva seemed to understand.

"Very well. Miss Nott you have five minutes."

Trudy's eyes shone with all sorts of unintelligible emotion that had been bottled up in her for far too long. When she pushed the door open Aliona was still on the same bed she had been for the past months but this time something was different: she was awake.

It felt like the storm had cleared, the clouds parted and everything seemed alright again. It didn't matter if she was expelled, because Aliona was alive and she was okay. She felt her eyes prick with tears and she became routed to the spot unable to embrace her best friend like she'd dreamt of for weeks on end. She had to tell her everything.

"Ali... Al, I did something bad..."

"All of us have, darling. Come and hug me please? I've missed you so much." Aliona held out her arms. Without her typical mascara and eyeliner that she wore everyday she looked naked but still the most beautiful thing Trudy had seen in her whole life. She's been to the French Alps, to Venice and the Isle of Skye and yet there had never been a sight that Trudy loved more then her best friend, awake and talking. It was the only real magic left in the world. The only kind that wasn't poisoned by something or other. Friendship was magic. Love was magic.

Finally Trudy could feel her feet unbuckling and suddenly she was back in Aliona's arms. Where she had never felt more alive. She stroked Trudy's soft short hair with maternal attentiveness.

"I'm okay now. I'm fine. We'll be fine." She whispered in soothing tones, "absolutely fine."

"But I—"

"That doesn't matter right now, I want my best friend. We can iron out the details later, alright?"

Trudy nodded into Aliona's chest.
"I love you to the moon."

"I love you to the moon and back."

When Esme-Leigh and Marlene nudged their way into the room they stood looking awkward, feeling like they were interrupting despite it having been well over ten minutes since they'd promised her five.

When Aliona looked up she smiled, her silver eyes bright with happy tears and her hair glittering the colour of red wine in the summer light. She held out her spare arm and invited them to join the hug.
It was the kind of moment one could never recreate no matter how hard they tried. Once it was gone it was gone forever, and it was best just to live it...

They would talk later. Later they would tell Aliona all about the past month, about Trudy's rage, about Mulciber, about James and his letter and about the MPP's review. But for now they hugged each other and pretended they might never have the let go. If they clung on tight enough the world could melt away...

♣ ♣ ♣

(18th June 1977 continued)

The first Magical Prejudice Prevention member to be interviewed was Remus Lupin. And he was ready. Lessons had ended twenty minutes ago and he was watching the clock like a hawk, waiting for five to five, so he could set off to the empty classroom for interview.

"All I'm asking is what happened? Was it embarrassing?"

Remus hadn't been paying much attention to the group's conversation, he was much too occupied with the ticking of the grandfathers clock that swung like a pendulum back and fourth. He found himself counting the swings, allured by its hypnotic repetitiveness.

This did not go unnoticed by Marlene McKinnon who was watching him and had been for the last five minutes, assessing his nerves. They were high, but he could handle it.

"No it was not embarrassing, Peter, it was perfectly fine."

"Then why aren't you going out anymore?"

"We were never going out!"

"No," Esme-Leigh smirked (devilishly), "I suppose it was quite the opposite, wasnt it?"

Remus found himself drifting back into the conversation, almost like Sirius' affairs with Keegan Trista were a stimulus for his attentions (this, once again, did not go unnoticed by Marlene).

"He just didn't want to see me anymore. And now, I realise that I don't really want to see him." Sirius went on, presenting Esme with his longest finger as his aphorisms filled the room.

"Why not?" Peter asked, ignoring (or not understanding) the (warning) look from Marlene.

"Because he was in my way..." Sirius paused, stumbling, "—of um... of quidditch. It was a conflict of interest. Very competitive."

Marlene smirked, "nice save," she muttered under her breath and Sirius reverted the attentions of his middle finger to her.
She paid no heed and instead reverberated her attentions to Remus who looked a mixture between tetchy and relief. She knew the feeling: it had emerged from her during the two days before Marlene went with Esme to Paris over Christmas; Dorcas had been getting looks from one of the handsome waiters the whole time they sat in the cafe. She wished she hadn't worn that expression but it was clear to her she'd been wearing it.

Remus had a girlfriend last year: Evelyn Terricott, a pretty, blonde, Ravenclaw prefect that he seemed to adore. He was more than upset when they parted ways and so it seemed to miff her even further when she saw him wearing that look she knew too well. Then it hit her and she grinned and licked her lips like a wolf...

When Remus left she followed him with her eyes, studying him. He needed thorough study.
Remus on the other hand was on his way to see the chosen professor.

He knocked twice on the door to hear the very purposeful voice of Professor Playford. "Close the door on your way in, Mr Lupin."
Remus slipped inside the door and let it close, surveying his teacher critically.

Professor Playford was probably the best choice for this type of job –an auror on leave to assist in the school– and yet Remus would even have preferred Slughorn.
"Good evening, sir."

"Evening, Lupin. Take a seat."
Playford spoke slowly and purposefully, like he was calculating every syllable; his lexicon tended to be littered with assonance and it made him sound much more pronounced when he spoke.

Remus sat down...

♣ ♣ ♣

(20th June 1977)

"Sempere?"

Jasmine turned around to see Remus Lupin calling her name from the other side of the corridor. She stopped moving and allowed him to fight his way through the sea of black robes to get to her.

"Jazzy? Are you testifying today?"

That was a good question, and from the desperation in his voice she knew it was an important one. She did not yet know this but Professor Playford had a dire habit of mincing the words of an interviewee. Being an aurour he was well practiced in those types of conversations and so, needless to say, none of the MPP's interviews had gone nearly to plan. Ultimately, Jasmine was their only hope.

"Yeah, I am."

"How are you feeling?"

She paused unconvincingly, "good," she squeaked, glancing around oddly (discrediting the Head Girl badge on her robe one would not have known she was head girl by the tone of her voice). The corridor was nearing empty by this point in the afternoon.

"Well, if you were wondering: Professor Playford didn't take his first year class last period yesterday."

Jasmine's eyes went wide and she slapped Remus' shoulder in disbelief (he was a lot taller than she, despite being younger, but he still shrunk away from her a little. He was a rather timid marauder in that respect).
"Playford is the interviewer?!"

He clicked his tongue and winked, "I did not say a word, understood?" She nodded and he squeezed her arm shortly before disappearing round the corridor to his own class...

Twenty five minutes before her scheduled meeting with –who thanks to Remus she'd discovered was– Professor Playford, Jasmine Sempere sat by the desk of the Head's office. It was a perfectly square room off the fourth floor corridor, with millions of certificates from former Head Students loitered around the walls and framed in the shelves. Apart from that there was a filing cabinet crammed full of detentions and other equally jejune bits of paper she couldn't be bothered to sort through.

Marlene and Esme-Leigh found her on her twelfth minute of staring down the wall (it was definitely losing). Marlene opted to sit on the table in front of her while Esme-Leigh chose to stand; having not been on the prefect accompanied rounds she hadn't gotten to know Jazzy as well as Marlene had.

The silence was thick before Marlene spoke:
"Are you worried? Do you know what you're gonna do?"

Just like Remus' earlier, this was also a wonderful inquiry to make. She'd had ideas, but none she'd entertained for more than thirty seconds before metaphorically hurtling them out the open window.

"No." Jazzy sighed heavily, glancing around the room like it might hold all her answers, "can you imagine? I've been ruining James Potter's bloody life, lately! First we break up last year, then I steal his cigarettes and now this fucking committee he's poured his soul into literally sits in the palm of my hand."

"Lucky you're not a jealous ex girlfriend, then, eh?"

Marlene snapped her head round, sending pretty sandy waves in a fan round her shoulders, "shut up, Esme!" She then faced Jasmine, "you look like you need a fag?"

Wordlessly she nodded, as if the promise of nicotine was enough to save the world (the bible always seemed a little bit fanciful anyway).
Marlene pulled a cigarette box out her robe pocket, passed one to Jasmine, popped her own between her teeth and offered one to Esme who made a face. Marlene shrugged and lit her own with her wand.

For a few moments the room was tranquil save the breathy exhales of gratitude Marlene and Jasmine let out. Intricate spirals of smoke slipped and curled around the room like a sly disease, filling the air with its saccharine aroma and floating towards the open window where it slid out like a serpent.

It took a few seconds for the epiphany to hit her. Frankly she was shocked that it took her this long, and that all it took to get her Slytherin side in full swing was to have a well earned smoke.

"What's the look for?"

Jasmine smirked puckishly, "what look? I was just thinking about the moral obligation of a girlfriend."

Esme frowned, "and why is that coming to mind?"

"Well because what sort of a girlfriend would one be if they didn't tell each other everything?"

"A crappy one. I write to Dorcas at least twice a week."

Jasmine snapped her fingers in Marlene's face and the Gryffindor jumped.
"Exactly. Everything. Especially... I don't know... who's conducting the interview that will dictate the outcome of his own committee? You know it would be a shame if that got out..."

Marlene frowned, "but you're not dating James anymore?"

Esme-Leigh clocked first and she lit up with mischief, "Playford doesn't know that."
Jasmine grinned.

Taking the flagrant hint, Marlene smiled broadly, in the way that children do when told 'don't tell your mother.'
"Are you suggesting... blackmail?"

Jazzy did not reply but she stood up to readjust her Hufflepuff tie around her beck and straighten out her creaseless skirt.
"This conversation never happened."

Marlene shrugged, "what conversation?"

"I don't know," Esme-Leigh went on covertly, "I'm bored already."

Jasmine turned to face them and winked in the same way Remus had earlier before disappearing round the corner and towards Professor Playford but this time, she was the only one with a game plan.

♣ ♣ ♣

(20th June 1977 continued)

She slipped into the empty classroom with the sort of strut she'd picked up from her time dating James Potter last year. Her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail that swayed as she walked and her ankle boots clicked with every deliberate move she made.

"Good Evening Ms Sempere."

She found it odd the way he used Ms instead of Miss; it was like a funeral rather than an interview. Perhaps that was a technique, to behave so formally that one was to be thrown off. But not Jasmine. A killing curse couldn't throw her off now.

"Take a seat."
With a syrupy smile she complied, looking as innocent as a cherub.

Professor Playford eyed her with suspicion for a short moment, most likely sizing her up for battle like a fencer. Although this game was more like chess, the only difference being that Jazzy was handed a script of every move he was going to make.

"How long have you been in the Magical Prejudice Protection?" Asked the professor. Jasmine noticed his diction was so flawless that every syllable he spoke was distinguishable from the previous.

"Long enough to know how well it's being managed, and how important it is to the school."

The way Playford chuckled was almost patronising and Jasmine felt herself grit her teeth hard enough to need dentures. Jasmine Sempere was not patronised. Full stop.
"That's not your job, it's mine."

"Shame. Wouldn't have noticed, the crappy job you've seen doing of it."

"Excuse me?"

She shrugged, leaning back in her chair and adopting an offensive look, her left eyebrow raised high enough to make Voldemort sweat.

When she didn't answer Playford shook his head, "I see. Now, would you say the Magical Prejudice Prevention is an important asset of this school?"

She readjusted her seat so she could give him a look from over her glasses, feeling remarkably like McGonogall.
"I don't know. But how many attacks on people like Aliona Connolly do you think there would have been without people there to support and protect them? Seriously, a number?"

"I'm the one conducting the interview Ms Sempere. And I'd rather you didn't use that tone."

"And I'd rather you didn't shut down the only club that cares about the students of this bloody school!"

"Ms Sempere! If you don't stop this now I'm afraid this interview will go a lot worse for your committee and it will not serve it well. You're Head Girl, Jasmine."

"Which is precisely why I know exactly what I'm doing."

Playford looked amused, almost as though his loftiness were clogging his vision of the room. His angular face was twisted in a bourgeois expression that gave Jazzy the urge to engage in homicide.

"May I ask you a question, sir?"

He masked his surprise with mockery, "fire away."

"How long were you an auror?"

He raised an eyebrow but replied, "coming up for three years now."

Again, Jasmine did not break her fixation on his baby blue eyes, her stare was arcane and surprisingly hard for the customarily jovial and munificent Head Girl.
"And so I'd presume you've worked with, or at least heard of, Fleamont Potter? Very influential you know?"

"Ms Sempere where are you going with this?"

She did not answer in so many words but rather gave him a short glance that silenced him, at least for the time being.
"I mean, can you imagine if it got out that you were responsible for shutting down the important committee of your superior's son? Not to mention Euphemia Potter, head of the Magical Peace Process– the foundations of the Magical Prejudice Protection."

Finally sensing where this was going Playford paused for a moment, like a computer buffering. He'd expected this move from Marlene McKinnon or Sirius Black but not Jasmine Sempere. Especially a move pulled off in such a shameless and ostentatious way, if he wasn't so consumed by dread he might have been mildly impressed by her gall.

"And it's not just the Potters," she went on, sitting up on her chair and leaning forward, adopting the same demeanour as Playford noticed himself he had when Jasmine had walked in the room. A sort of subtle credence that really looked rather good on her.
"The McKinnons as well. I'm sure Marlene will be cut up her childhood companion had his lively hood shut down internally. She's bound to tell her parents! What do you think Felicity McKinnon: Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement would make of that? Or Gregor Fawley: well respected Muggle Liaison? It's all a colourful picture of chaos if you ask me, and I'm no Picasso."

The professor leant back in his chair, judging his next move with caginess.
"But the only issue with that is that you can't tell anyone I was the one that interviewed you. That leads to automatic shut down of the review and that means you're little club is gone. So," his teeth were a dazzling white, like pearls, when he smiled at her, "is it worth it?"

"It depends really. I suppose there are multiple answers but first I have another question if you wouldn't mind, sir. Do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend?" Her voice was patronising and steady.

"A fiancée."

"You tell her everything?"

"Naturally."

"There you go then," Jasmine shrugged and flapped her arms towards him like the trap she'd led him into were as obvious as the fire of London.

"There I go what?"

"You'd tell your fiancée everything."

"But you're not James Pott—"

She enjoyed immensely he way his usually perfectly poised shoulders slumped as the realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks.
"—you're James Potters girlfriend, aren't you?"

Again she said nothing, letting her silence speak all the volumes it needed to.
"What sort of a doting girlfriend might I be if I didn't even tell my dear sweetheart who was going to take him down and everything he's worked for in the past years?"

This time it was Playford who had no reply but it wasn't a power move. He'd made the mistake of showing his hand too early, and above all of underestimating Jasmine Sempere.

"That's what I thought. You're a good man, Playford my darling." She was pointing at him accursedly as she spoke, as if trying to belittle him with the end of her finger. Her words were slow and monosyllabic, just like his were at the beginning of the interview. Jasmine had always appreciated irony.

"Anyway, I think we're done here unless you have any objections in which case ask someone else. Good day to you now!" She left from the room with uniform as crisp as a winter morning and and a smile warm enough to melt frost to spring dew.

♣ ♣ ♣

(20th June 1977 continued)

  When Jasmine slumped down on one of the plush arm chairs of the Heads common room she noticed the Head Boy had gone to bed early, giving her blissful peace to revel in her own guilefulness and success. She wasn't expecting to hear a knock on the portrait just as she let her yellow robe slip to the floor.

Marlene McKinnon was smiling optimistically at her from the other side. Something about Marlene made her smile and so Jasmine stood aside and let the force of nature that was Marlene McKinnon flutter in the door and take a seat on the chair Jasmine had just got up from.

"It's lovely in here, you know. I'd love to be Head Girl."

Jasmine smiled fondly, allowing herself to be swallowed by the aura Marlene emitted like a sweet aroma.
"I wouldn't rule it out."

"Shut up."

She did as she was told and instead opted to take a seat on the chair next to the blonde beauty.

After a few moments of simply existing in the same proximity, Marlene voiced her reason for coming:
"How did it go?"

She smiled, turning away mysteriously and pulling her long hair out its ponytail and began to put it into night braids while Marlene watched with a smirk on her lips.
"Let me paraphrase. What did you do?"

"Exactly what I said I wasn't going to do."

"You blackma—"

Jazzy leapt over the couch to slap a hand over the Gryffindor's mouth, "—shh! The Head Boy might still be awake!"

"And now he's not at all suspicious," Marlene remarked in reply, leaning back nonchalantly with the sort of sarcasm that could only have been picked up from too much time spent with Remus Lupin.

"Shut your trap, Marlene you know what I mean!"

"Fine. And just you do know, I think you're a star. I reckon you've saved this club."

Jasmine smiled, noticing how hot she felt for the first time, "really?"

"Course. You're a hero, Jazz."

"Shame I ain't got a cape."

Marlene rolled her eyes but reached out to hug her with the sort of smile that made one think of apple pie and orchards; not typical for Marlene McKinnon but just as beautiful.
"You don't need one."

The final days of Jasmine's school career had been utter hell and yet seeing Marlene's radiant smile almost made it all worth it. If she didn't say something she might combust...

"Marlene. I need to tell you something..."

"Oh?" She pulled back so she could see Jasmine better as she fixed her glasses on her nose.

"Life's too short not to tell people things and I think you deserve to know this. I think you're amazing. And gorgeous and different and unlike any creature I've ever met and without really meaning too I've fallen into a dangerous fond with you," instead of watching for the reaction and eventually the fallout, Jasmine, instead, focused on the small fireplace ahead of her. "—I'm not in love or anything, don't worry. I just... I think you're amazing and I'm sorry if that upsets you. God I need a cigarette."

Jasmine was on the verge of slapping herself before Marlene interrupted, "Jazzy I'm not sure what you'd like me to say. I think you're inspirational, you're everything I value in a person."

"But?..."

"I'm irretrievably in love with a Muggle girl back at home. She's real magic and I wouldn't be able to live without her. And I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear."

For a long moment nobody spoke but the shadows. She wasn't upset. Her heart hadn't been broken, and it wasn't broken because she'd never had the chance to give it away in the first place. Perhaps if it had been a little bit longer then it might have bruised but all she felt like was a kick. In one's last week at Hogwarts things seem all the more real and grounding and so it didn't quite seem like the end of the world in the grand scheme of things.

"I'm sorry." Whispered Marlene after what seemed like a millennium. She looked up to see her crying.

Jasmine hugged her again, "don't you dare be sorry. Don't you dare. You shouldn't have to be sorry for anything. You've been an amazing friend to me, albeit we bonded a bit late but I value you a lot more than some of my friends in seventh year. You're one of the only genuine people left in this world and you're Muggle is the luckiest girl in the world... but I'm sure she knows that. But, Marls, I'm leaving for good on Sunday and I respect you too much not to be able to call you my friend then, when I leave this place, and forever after that. Please just tell me we can do that?" A tear dripped down her olive cheek and she held Marlene to her as tightly as she could, as if she might turn to smoke underneath her fingers at any moment.

Slowly Marlene nodded, sniffing into Jasmine's shoulder.
"Of course. Of course."

They embraced for an eternity after, wondering if the world torn by war outside would allow them to keep their promise.

After a while Marlene found herself smiling. For once in her life she wasn't just Esme-Leigh-the-Veela's-pretty-but-not-quite-as-pretty-best-friend; she was Marlene: a girl that someone respects enough to pour their heart out too and act like an adult about it. For the first time in a while she felt like her own person. And she felt alive in it too.

That day was the day Marlene McKinnon became an adult, and the day she knew exactly who she was. And she was powerful.

(21st June 1977)

The newspapers often looked the same nowadays. Most tended to have a similar headline and sports pages looked parallel enough to be plagiarised; the only substantial difference was the crosswords. Habitually the paper bored Lily, but today there was something different in the ink that made her shiver:

TEN YEAR OLD GOES MISSING IN INVERNESS, SCOTLAND

She snatched the paper up from the breakfast table (which was currently empty as Petunia tended to prefer a lie in), and read the article with a nauseous feeling in her stomach.

Early last night the search for Josephine Baker (ten years old) began. She had been put to bed by her mother (Cassandra Baker- 49) just hours before Josephine was reported missing. Her first story bedroom window was open with no signs of forced entry.

This comes just months after the disappearance of Jude and Harvey Boyce (12 & 15) in Kent.
Police have declined to comment when asked if they thought the two cases and the others over the past years are connected.

Scotland Yard's head officer in charge is expected to give a press conference later this evening where it is expected he will confirm the progress in the missing children cases.

There was another column but Lily felt she'd read enough. A wave of vertigo hit her like a moving train and she found herself clutching onto the chair she was standing by.

"Lily? Are you alright, darling?" The voice belonged to her mother and it was weaker than she'd heard it in a while.

"I'm fine. Fine." The image of a figure surrounded by rain filled her mind. She hadn't forgotten how he had watched her walk by in the rain of February's storm, somehow he plagued her dreams too.

Faith Evans held out her arms and Lily melted into them. Sometimes it was best just to pretend that nothing bad existed. The arms of her mother was the best place for that.
Living in denial was blissful until someone got hurt. Or snatched in their sleep.

♥ ♥ ♥

(21st June 1977 continued)

Dorcas Meadowes kept a calendar on her bedroom door. It was a simple one, the colour purple with photographs taken by Lily and Alice stuck to each month, it stuck out like a sore thumb from the rest of her room but she liked it quite a lot. The reason she liked it was because it was easy to stare at for prolonged periods of time and count the days until her girlfriend, Marlene, would return from boarding school and it was getting close.

Some days Dorcas hated her calendar. Sometimes it was the first of September. And other times, like now, her calendar was the most wonderful thing in the world because it told her that it was two days until Marlene would be home for the holidays.

There was a knock at her door just as she had finished braiding her hair to either side of her head.
Her mother didn't seem to be answering and so Dorcas did it herself, like a lot of other things in this godforsaken house she thought.

On the other side of the door was the postman, disappointing, really, seen as Lily and Alice were due round later. The postman held her out a small bundle of letters, the top one made her immediately smile. Marlene's handwriting bore her address on the front in black ink.

Scurrying back to her room Dorcas opened the letter, riddled with anticipation.

Dearest Dorks, (it read in handwriting that had been smudged with a left handed writer.)

I hope life isn't too excruciating as it stands. Have your friends pictures gone up in the local cafe yet? You'll have to show me when I get home. I'll stay with my mate (and his mate) who's not long moved to the area, I'm sure he won't mind, the house is big enough for an army to move into.

Anyway, that's what I was going to write you about today. How would you fancy meeting my mates over the holidays? Yours could come too? I talk about you a lot and they're dying to meet you (especially Sirius who is convinced you aren't real).

Sorry I've not written all that much, this week has been insane. Boarding school comes with a lot of bloody drama that I've sworn not to tell a soul about. (I tried playing the card that girlfriends don't count but apparently that is not the case). What happens in boarding school stays in boarding school I suppose.

Anyway, I really have to go. I've got an interview that's pretty important so wish me luck!

Love you to the stars,

Marlene xxx

Dorcas smiled at the kiss mark of dark red lipstick that her girlfriend was rarely without before picking up a sheet of paper and writing her own reply.

♥ ♥ ♥

(21st July 1977 continued)

Alice sat at her dressing table, brushing her chestnut hair through with the paddle brush her grandmother had gotten her last month under the alias that 'your old one is falling to bits' but in truth Alice knew her grandma just got her little gifts for the merriment she got out of it. The many trinkets in her bedroom supported this theory. Her grandma was perhaps her favourite person in the world (haply even more than Frank), she was the type of woman that changed the world with a smile and a hug. The bungalow they lived in together was like a sanctuary where time was irrelevant and the world didn't seem quite as dark.

She was due to meet Lily, Dorcas and Frank by Cafe Indulge in less than half an hour but she was left mesmerised by the way her hair shone in the light behind her translucent curtains that she didn't want to move away and spoil the majesty of it.

"Ally, dear? Shouldn't you be setting off by now?" Her grandmother Joyce asked with a small knock on the door.

"I should probably should, shouldn't I, granny?" She looked up smiled into the eyes that looked just like her own.

"Come on, lazy bones, arse in gear."

"Gran!"

Joyce laughed, holding out her hand to her bubbly granddaughter with a wink, "are you taking your bike?"

She nodded, "I'll be back before ten." Alice kissed her grandmothers cheek quickly before grabbing her handbag and skipping out the door with an element of excitement that would lift the spirits of the reaper himself.

When she reached Indulge she abandoned her bike next to the one she recognised as Lily's under the bike shed and hurried into the front door.
Upon hearing the twinkle of the bell three bodies turned to see her enter.

"Alice! How can you be late to everything?" Lily cried, rushing down with Frank to greet her.

"I'm a nightmare," she assured her friend, reaching out to kiss Frank quickly and smiling at the glow on his cheeks. She loved Frank as dearly as she loved sugary tea (which was one of her only joys in life aside from her typewriter and camera).

"You're a daydream," Frank assured her with a wink.
Alice didn't have to look up to see Dorcas gagging melodramatically.

Ahead of her was a wall covered in a black curtain, where underneath lay the set of new photos that would look over the cafe's main wall for the foreseeable future. The very sight of it made her stomach flutter.

Frank took her hand and lead her up the stair to the mezzanine that overlooked the cafe and gave all four of them the best view of the wall.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Lily grinned, taking Alice's free hand and squeezing it. Lily had spent her morning bouncing off the walls of the Evans' household much to the annoyance of her sister and now she was here she didn't seem to have calmed down.

She surveyed the cafe for a moment, before Caroline came to open the exhibit. The cafe was busier than usual, the clientele tended to expand on days like these and yet Lily somehow still felt jittery like she had done every time they open see a new set of photos up on the cafe wall.

Dorcas placed her chin on Lily's shoulder, "you nervous?"

"Little." She replied with a shrug, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Caroline emerged from the back room moments later and proceeded to give a prolonged speech on how hard Lily and Alice had worked to make the display possible. Anything else went unnoticed by Lily as she shook like a leaf.

When the wall was revealed she felt herself gasp. She never expected it to look as wonderful as it did. Colours burst from the seems in pictures that illuminated the wall in such a way that made her unsure if she had even taken them. To say she loved it was an understatement.

Alice hugged her vivaciously and most of the customers applauded politely. Although as Lily made her way round the room with Alice, answering all the questions that particularly interested people had, she came across a figure she found oddly familiar. His eyes were obscured by a convenient shadow and he seemed to melt into the arm chair he sat on. He was the kind of character that made one uneasy to the point of sleep loss and cold sweats. And yet, later when she asked Alice about him she didn't remember seeing him there at all. Perhaps she was going mad. If she was she didn't feel it. She saw him there, watching, much like a stranger she encountered in a dream, or during a storm...

(21st June 1977)

It's often the night when most things begin to come alive. Underneath the witching hour is an eco system of shadows that lurch and slink across the world in all sorts of sinister ways.

People often choose the dead of night to come to life. Often children are born in the night and often they light up the dark like wonderful stars.
Sometimes the life of the night isn't as magical and yet they are never less vital.

Trudy Nott was already awake when Madam Pomfrey came to wake her from her dormitory. At first she assumed it was Aliona and she got herself worked into a frenzy terrified that she was dead all over again. It wasn't that. Perhaps the opposite.

"Follow me." The medi-witch whispered and took her hand gently.
Trudy followed her up to the hospital wing and looked around, scanning the room a little too quickly, not noticing at first what she was meant to be looking at. Until she saw Kieron Mulciber sitting up in his bed with a book on his lap, bandaged heavily but otherwise content.

Something about the sight made her want to be sick. She wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the aversion in herself that she'd put him here, made him look like that? Or perhaps it was much worse? Perhaps, it was the deepest darkest thought she'd been harbouring for the past few months, the fantasy that if given half a reason she would do it all over again.

And there he was, casual as they come. Animal Farm seemed like his sort of book she noticed upon spying the cover of the novel he read by candlelight.
It took her a while to notice she wasn't breathing while watching him exist among the living.

"I've been informed by professor McGonogall that your review has been passed. Since Mulciber is aspiring to a full recovery, you are allowed to enrol as a student next year." Poppy Pomfrey explained in a low voice as she watched her watch Kieron.

She didn't know if she could laugh, or cry, or both at once and so she just nodded. Swallowing hard and wishing Aliona wasn't asleep so they could share this.

"You should talk to him. I thought you might have wanted to be the first one now he's awake?" The medi-witch explained.

"Thank you," Trudy swallowed thickly, pulling at the strands of short hair at the nape of her neck, before voyaging over to the bed where he lay with a book and candle. Madam Pomfrey made herself scarce and left the two of them alone.

"Mulciber?"

He looked up, his usually spiked hair lay flat on his pale and feverishly sweating forehead, his dark blue eyes were sharply cutting, with the sort of knife that made a cut that ooze thick blood, the type that leaves a stain as it trails down one's skin.

He looked up in surprise.
"Nott. Come for round two?"

Trudy gritted her teeth and glanced over to where Aliona was sound asleep.
"No. I'm not going to hurt you again although I want you to know I don't regret what I did. What you did was evil. Pure evil."

"I'm glad you think so."

She spat in his face with sheer distain but he didn't flinch (perhaps he was too weak).
"Go to hell, Mulciber. I'm not sorry for what I did. But you should be for deserving it."

She turned his back on him then, and with one last long glance at a peaceful Aliona she left the hospital wing unsure if she should laugh I'd cry. She had won, but at what cost?

♣ ♣ ♣

(21st June 1977)

Remus sat in a high stool in front of the group, watching them with genuine interest as to what made them so loquacious when their literal career was being held by himself in the form of an envelope. An envelope containing a letter with the result of the enquiry (conducted by the most part Professor Playford).
Esme-Leigh held the two way mirror with the face of an overly tired looking James Potter, saying nothing.

Plucking up the courage he waved the envelope in the air and coughed purposely sending a message of tranquil across the Lost-and-Found-Room.
"This letter was handed to me by McGonogall this morning. We thought it best to wait until we were all here to open this letter."

The group shared looks of concern. Marlene took Sirius' hand, Mary clutched her badge tight enough to leave a mark and Trudy kept her eyes fixed on the floor, she could feel the outcome before it came...

"To whom it may concern,
Following the review carried out privately by a member of staff it has been concluded that the Magical Prejudice Prevention will be allowed to continue on school grounds next term beginning September first. However provided that—..." Remus trailed off, bringing the parchment closer to his face as if he might be able to change what is said by looking closer.

Esme shared a look with the mirror, "what does it say?"

Moony looked entranced, folding the letter back into the envelope he looked straight forward with an expression of raw regret.
"Provided that Miss Trudy Nott hand in her badge immediately. Sincerely Hogwarts Staff."

Trudy felt her insides clear. Suddenly the walls seemed to be too close together and the carpet was turning to liquid. It was now that she finally realised the cost of her victory.

"Trudy I'm so sorr—"

She cut him off with a shake of her head, smiling through pain that threatened to cut her in two, "—it's alright, Remus. It's not your fault, it's mine. I'm lucky I'm allowed to still be here next year never mind in this club. I was fantasising." She stood up and made her way over to the front of the room, brushing off the eyes of thirty students and pulling off her badge.
Finally she turned to the mirror Esme-Leigh held in her hands, "thank you for trying to help me. It's been a pleasure."

James nodded just before she turned her back and fled the room, unable to return.

♣ ♣ ♣

(23rd June 1977)

Marlene was perfectly content with a cigarette belonging to Sirius in her teeth, admiring the way the sun had begun to set as they cruised along the Scottish landscape that Sunday afternoon for the final time as Hogwarts students. The next time they would make this journey would be as Hogwarts alumni, just like Jazzy was now.

She thought about James, and how she wished he didn't have to miss this moment. All of them together with a deck of exploding snap between them, (just like their journey up) and the sun casting shadows across the faces of them all, glowing with summer and blushing sunlight. He shouldn't have to miss this.

That thought lead her to another. One she hadn't entertained in years, and that was the wonder of Lily Evans. Of course it was all the more common now for muggleborns like her not to attend Hogwarts but she was the first. Why hadn't she come? What had stopped her? She could be with them now, she might have shared a dorm with herself and Esme-Leigh? And yet she was out there somewhere –where, she did not know– and carrying on her life as if this world didn't exist...

Hey everyone! This chapter was pretty long (almost 13,000) but I didn't want to split it again, let me know if you liked this sized chapter?

Anyway I have an important question:
Im going to let you decide who you want Hogwarts' new Head Girl to be. Comment on one of the options and if you can tell me why you chose them it's be great

Esme-Leigh Bisset

Marlene McKinnon

Mary McDonald

Trudy Nott

Aliona Connolly

Or A new character (if so what type of person/ what house)

Puis, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 600 FOLLOWERS AGHHHH

All my love,

Abbi ♥️