All through lunch on Wednesday, Evelyn was quiet, picking at her food. She kept glancing up at the staff table where Professor Mason, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's seat was empty, as it had been at every meal that week.

She knew Sean and Marlowe had noticed her odd behavior because they were looking at each other across the table, side eyeing her. Neither of them said anything. She almost wanted them to. She wanted them to ask what she was thinking.

Finally, just as they began to pack up, she broke the silence herself.

"I was thinking," she said.

"We noticed," said Marlowe. She glared at him.

"I was thinking," she repeated, pulling her long hair out from under the strap of her bag where it had gotten stuck. "That we ought to ask Professor Mason about the article."

They had updated Caiti and Marlowe on Sunday evening in the common room. Or rather, she had. Sean, it seemed, had forgotten all about it. But Evelyn was muggle born. The knowledge of the attack on the muggle school children and it's lack of resolution had been sitting uneasily in her stomach all week, always at the front of her mind.

"Why him?" asked Sean, frowning.

Evelyn had thought this was obvious. "Well he used to be an auror didn't he?" Indeed, Professor Mason had been hired by the auror's department a few years after he'd finished school. He had only remained there for three years before he had quit and taken the Defense Against the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts. He never discussed the reason why he left although he would occasionally speak about his experience which had been, mainly, rounding up the remains of the death-eaters after You-Know-Who had gone for good. Evelyn had always assumed that it was lack of work that brought him to the school. Certainly there were fewer dark wizards than there had been when he had finished school. But she did not know whether her theory was true.

The conversation was cut short as they made their way up the aisles between tables and to the front door, because Marlowe was walking along the outer edge and she didn't think the subject was appropriate to be shouted across the heads of the other Ravenclaws who were finishing their lunch.

"As I say," she continued the moment they all passed into the entrance hall, as if this break had not occurred. "He was an auror. He might still be in contact with the other aurors, maybe that Elise whatever her name was from the paper, even. I'd just like to hear what someone thinks. And besides, haven't you noticed he's been gone?"

"He's not really been gone," said Marlowe, hoisting his bag up his shoulder. "Elliot had him on Monday. And Caiti had him yesterday. Neither of them said he missed his class."

"No," said Evelyn, frustrated. "But he hasn't been at a single meal - not even dinner - all week."

"What do you think you'll find out by asking?" asked Sean. He recoiled under the look she gave him.

"Well if neither of you care to know, then I'll do it myself," she said. She sped up to walk ahead of them, but Sean hurried to catch back up with her.

"Ev, I didn't mean I wasn't interested, it's just-"

But she cut him off. "Just that it's not really a concern, right? Just that it's one incident that happened far away and didn't involve us." She didn't know why she was so angry with him. Only that she had been on edge ever since she had read the article and it was getting more difficult to act her normal self. It felt good to have someone to lash out at, even if she knew, beneath her unfair anger, that Sean did not deserve it.

"That's not what I said," he said quietly.

They had arrived outside the door of the classroom. Evelyn stopped, turning to glare at him. Marlowe, who had evidently not sped up, was still down at the other end of the hall, not appearing in any rush to catch up with his friends.

"You don't get it, though," she said. "You've got other things on your mind. You think this stupid tournament is the only important thing there is now and meanwhile muggles are dying at the hands of wizards who think it's funny and-"

"Evelyn," he said, looking hurt. "I don't think that. I don't-" But she wrenched open the door of the classroom and took a seat in the front at a table that was already nearly full.

Sean stood outside looking stunned until Marlowe had caught up to him. They seated themselves a few rows behind her, near enough that she could hear them muttering to each other, about her she assumed, though she couldn't make out what they were saying.

Professor Mason arrived just on time. He was a tall and well-built wizard, black robes crisp and formidable. He had dark hair that probably would have been curly if it were not cut so short and neat, and his jawline was strong. Evelyn knew that the girls in Caiti's class thought he was attractive and liked to jokingly flirt with him, but she had always found him a little intimidating. She had suspected, however, ever since she had gone into the hospital wing for a pepperup potion at the start of term and walked in on him in conversation with Raigan, the nurse, that he had a soft side he did not often show to his students.

He immediately launched into an explanation of what that day's lesson would be, but Evelyn's hand shot up in the air. He paused, looking surprised. Professor Mason typically had the sort command of the classroom that dictated that no questions would be asked until he had given permission to ask them.

"Yes, Miss O'Sullivan?" he asked.

"I was wondering," said Evelyn, sitting up straighter. She kept her voice cool, collected. "If you would be able to talk a bit about what was in the news this weekend."

Professor Mason's face was impassive, but Evelyn was sure he knew exactly what she was talking about. "About the tournament," he said, with feigned confusion.

"About a group of masked wizards who attacked a bus full of muggle school children," said Evelyn, her voice hard. She gripped the edge of her chair tight, trying hard to keep her voice from shaking. Every time she thought about it became more real to her what had been done, what might be only the start of a much larger problem if it were not quelled soon.

He looked reluctant, but a few others in the room had sat up a little straighter, looking between Evelyn and Professor Mason. He sighed. "Alright."

He watched her, perhaps thinking she had a specific question, but she merely stared back at him, waiting to hear what he had to say on his own first.

"If you haven't read the prophet," he explained, sitting on the edge of his desk, "you might not have heard that a group of wizards were spotted in a muggle village in the south of England this past weekend. They had overtaken a school bus, murdered the driver, and were leading the children through the streets and towards a dangerous quarry at which point a team of aurors arrived on the scene and they disapparated, abandoning their plan. From what we have gathered, the muggle man they killed had never had any sort of contact with wizards nor had he done anything to give any of the men in question reason to hold a grudge, unless of course, their grudge was simply that he was a muggle. The culprits have not yet been caught or identified, although we have leads on several, yet to be proven of course."

People had begun to murmur all around the classroom and Professor Mason raised his voice as he continued. "The reason that this attack has garnered so much fear, is that the wizards had their faces covered, wearing the same sort of mask as a group of very dark wizards I'm sure you're parents or other professors have told you about: the death eaters. Now we know there is no possibility that their leader has returned, but we fear that, as long as there is still anti-muggle sympathy as well as a desire to purify bloodlines and to decide who is allowed to study and perform magic, there is danger of uprisings like these growing and gaining support.

"This is why the ministry has been working so tirelessly since the end of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's reign to increase the acceptance of muggle born witches and wizards as well as muggles themselves, and has passed many laws on account of this wish for more unity between the magic and muggle worlds. And things are much better, but prejudice is deepset and," he paused here for effect and when he continued his words were sharp and punctuated. "It is taught. It is too soon to expect that the problem has been solved, but some of the higher-ups were lax. It seemed things had been fixed. It's allowed something like this to happen."

He stopped talking suddenly, perhaps wondering if he had said too much. Everyone was listening to him with rapt attention. Evelyn saw someone raise a tentative hand at the other side of the room. It was Peter Silverstein, a Hufflepuff with a rather wavering voice.

"Sir," he said timidly when Professor Mason had called on him. "You used the word 'we' a lot... I wondered if... if you were still working with the ministry. If you were still, sometimes, an auror."

Evelyn was glad someone else had asked the question. She had been wondering the same thing.

"I am not," he said quietly. "But many of my former colleagues remain there and there are several with whom I still correspond regularly. Forgive me for grouping myself with them. My only place of authority is here, although I admit, I do voice my opinion occasionally when I think they are mistaken. For example, in that article, it was suggested that all those children had been put under the imperius curse and that is why they followed. I think not. Children, I have learned, respond to fear quite the same way they respond to pleasure, that is, with docility. I think it would have been easy enough to frighten them into following, whether or not they trusted the people in masks. They had just witnessed a murder, after all, and who would blame them for thinking they might go the same way if they did not do as they were told."

This time it was Evelyn who raised her hand. She was much less interested in his theory on the alleged use of the imperius curse than she was in his remaining presence at the ministry.

"Miss O'Sullivan?" he said. She could tell he was losing patience with the subject, anxious to get back on with his lesson and away from a topic that was not necessarily school appropriate, although this being his seventh years, these were all of-age students.

"I only wondered," she said, "If you had spoken with the auror they interviewed in that article. Or if you had known her."

Something very odd happened in Professor Mason's face. She could not tell if it was a look of rage or deepest sadness, but it only flashed across his face and was gone again. "I knew her, yes," he said shortly. "We have not spoken about the incident."

Although at least six more hands had gone up around the room, he ignored them and announced that they really needed to get on with the class. The hands all around her slid down in disappointment and Evelyn sank back into her chair, left with more questions than answers.

---

Caiti and Marlowe sat in the library that day after lessons had ended. They had planned to meet there and work on homework as each of them had a certain amount of research to do before they could complete the essays they had been set. Caiti was working on a project for muggle studies.  They were spending the term studying muggle entertainment, art, and culture. She was deeply enthralled with all of it, and her recent discovery of films and movie theatres had her poking Marlowe every few seconds to whisper something else she had just learned.

Marlowe, whose mother was a muggle and who had grown up perfectly accustomed to both the muggle and magical words, feigned interest and surprise. Each time, he turned back to his own homework - a much less interesting essay on the establishment of the International Confederation of Wizards for a History of Magic - with an amused smile.

Finally, she seemed to be so engrossed in her essay that she had forgotten to let him know when she found some new and interesting tidbit. For about a half an hour, he worked diligently on his own work before he reached the conclusion of the essay. Caiti was not yet finished and he did not want to distract her so her pretended to be looking something up in one of the library books he had pulled from the shelves before they had sat down. He glanced up at her.

She was concentrating hard, lips just slightly parted. Her blonde hair was all the way down today, which was unusual. She had swung it all to one side where it hung over her shoulder, and it shielded part of her face. Shallow frown lines appeared on her forehead as she moved her parchment up a few inches and continued writing. She paused a minute later, thinking, and seemed to realize at the same time that Marlowe did, that he had been staring at her. She looked up and he Marlowe, looking into her warm brown eyes framed by long, thick eyelashes, suddenly felt very nervous.

"What?" she whispered.

"Oh. Nothing," he said.

"You were staring at me," she said, a hint of a smile on her face. Her cheeks looked tense like she was trying to hold the smile back.

"Zoned out," he said, looking away. He hoped his cheeks did not look as red as he felt. He closed the book in front of him and stacked it with two others. "Anything you want me to put back?" he asked. "I'm finished." He did not look directly at her again.

She considered her books and slid him a few. She left her hand on one, putting the pointer finger of her other hand to her lips in thought. "Might keep this one," she said. Then she added, "Thanks. I'm almost done too... just the conclusion."

He added her books to the pile and went to put them away, hoping that by the time he came back, his cheeks would have returned to a normal and much more comfortable temperature. He had actually begun to sweat. How long had he been staring at her?

Marlowe found the shelf where his books had come from and drew his finger down the line, looking for the codes that came before his in the system to replace them before tapping each with his wand and sending it back up to it's place.

Caiti, he thought to himself, the words rising to the front of his mind uninvited, was getting prettier every day. She had always been cute in a girl-next-door, best friend's sister sort of a way, short and blonde and clear-skinned with expressive eyes. But somewhere, sometime, over the summer he supposed, she had become beautiful.

Or maybe she had always been and it was he who had changed, he who had suddenly really noticed it.

He returned to their table when everything had been returned to its place and found Caiti packing up her things into the black shoulder bag she carried. He rolled up his scroll and stuck it inside his own disorganized bag. 

"Ready?" she asked. He nodded, and they crept out of the library, dodging the squeaky floorboard in front of the door that always made the entire library, first and foremost Madame Page, the librarian, turn to see who had caused the ruckus.

Caiti hopped around and danced down the hallway, apparently in a very good mood. "I want to see a movie, Marlowe," she said.

"So weird you've never been," he told her with a bemused smile.

"Wait, you have?" she asked, her mouth opening into a comical 'o.'

"Plenty of times. With my mom, you know?"

"Wow," said Caiti. "Can I go with you sometime? On holiday or something?"

He laughed through a closed mouth. "Yeah, of course."

She smiled at the thought. "My book said that movies are the traditional muggle date," she said.

Marlowe was startled by this, not because the information was anything he did not already know, but because it had almost sounded as though she were making a suggestion, giving him a cue.

But she couldn't have been. He said nothing.

They had almost made it back to the common room when Caiti said, "Hogsmeade this weekend. What are we gonna do?"

"Can't," said Marlowe. "Quidditch practice."

"Reschedule it," said Caiti.

"I can't," he said.

"But you will," she said. She looked at him with the sort of sad puppy dog face that girls always gave when they wanted something.

He turned away from her. He could not give in. He needed the extra practice with them. They were playing Slytherin next and the weather was getting worse as November neared. There would be less play time in the next few weeks, not to mention the rapidly approaching first task that meant Sean, who wanted the time to prepare, would not be in practice all the next week.

"Marlowe," whined Caiti. "Saturday is my birthday."

Understanding dawned on his face. He swore under his breath.

Caiti stopped walking and stared at him. "Did you forget? You jerk!"

He kept walking a few steps past her, slowing to a stop. He turned back to her. "No," he said quickly. "No. October twenty seventh. I just didn't realize that was Saturday." He chewed his lip. "I guess I could try and move the practice to Sunday..."

"Yes you could," she said smugly. "Because I'm going to spend my birthday with my best friend, not third wheeling my brother."

Marlowe laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll let everyone know," he said. Caiti nodded, appeased, and caught up to him. He looped his arm around her. "Can't believe little Caiti's gonna be seventeen."

"Shut up," she said. "I'm not little."

"I beg to differ," he said, looking down at her. He was, after all, an entire foot taller than she was.

"I mean" she said, scoffing at him, "that I'm not a little kid."

"Nah, I know," he grinned. "Only joking. Still crazy though. We're all getting old aren't we?"

"Yeah," Caiti agreed. "I'd better stop helping you in potions so you'll fail and have to retake seventh year with me."

"God, no, please don't. I can't take N.E.W.T.s twice," he said, shuddering.

Caiti tipped her head from side to side. "I suppose that would be pretty cruel of me."

They entered the common room a minute later and found Evelyn and Sean sitting on opposite sides of the room. Evelyn was looking resolutely away from Sean, her back turned to him, but Sean, he saw, was staring at her back in apparent distress.

"What's up with them?" asked Caiti quietly.

Marlowe realized that he had not updated Caiti on the events of their DADA lesson and Evelyn's argument with Sean.

"Long story. I'll tell you later." And he marched towards Sean who looked up as his friend approached.

"Help," he said in desperation. The look on his face plainly said that no part of him was able to interpret this particular instance of female moodiness.

"What's up now?" asked Marlowe, sitting himself down in an open chair next to Sean's.

"She's still mad at me," said Sean. "Even though I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything, did I?" he added, a look of terror in his eyes that Marlowe thought might rival Sean's face when he found himself in front of whatever it was that the tasks would ask him to address.

"No, you didn't," he said. "She's just upset and you were the closest person for her to take it out on."

Sean relaxed, but then he looked across the room at Evelyn again and his hands gripped into anxious fists. "I don't know what to do. She won't talk to me."

"Can someone please explain what's going on?" asked Caiti.

Sean's eyes widened. "Yeah, Caiti, you're a girl. You'll understand." He recounted the story of their walk to class that afternoon.

Caiti listened carefully and considered it all for a while before she spoke. "I think," she said, "you just need to go and apologize." Sean showed signs of protesting but Caiti spoke over him. "Apologize," she repeated, "for what she thinks you've done. And then, because I think she just wants to talk about it, and to feel like other people want to talk about it too, you can ask her a question. She just wants someone to listen. And to be on her side."

"Caiti, you're a smart girl," said Marlowe.

Sean nodded thoughtfully, then he stood up looking determined. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I think I will."

Marlowe watched him walk away and, next to him, Caiti said, "I really hope that was good advice. I don't want to be the thing that stands in between the future married couple."

"Sounded good to me," said Marlowe with a shrug.

"Go find your teammates," said Caiti. With a guilty look, Marlowe stood up, and headed over to where Elodie was sitting with her friends near the tower window.

---

"Ev?" said Sean. He made to put his hand on her shoulder, but saw the look on her face and stopped halfway there. She was glaring at her lap as though it had done her a serious and unforgivable wrong.

"Ev, I'm really, really sorry if I made it seem like I didn't care... like it didn't matter..." He sat down opposite her, leaning forward across the small, circular table, and tried to catch her eye. His hands were clasped in front of him. "I didn't mean to come off that way," he said carefully. She did not look at him or say anything, but she sat up straighter, eyes downcast. "Ev," he said again.

"Don't you 'Ev' me," she said quietly.

Sean was so relieved she had spoken to him that he actually smiled. "Okay. Evelyn O'Sullivan, please accept my fullest and deepest apology. I care very much about this and I had a moment of selfishness which I regret."

Finally, Evelyn looked at him. Her eyes were hard at first, but they softened after only a second and she looked away again. "No you didn't," she said. "You didn't do anything."

Sean blinked.

"I'm sorry," she said. "And I'm the one who should be." Her eyes flickered up to the ceiling and, bottom lip hidden under the top, she breathed in deeply through her nose. He thought her eyes looked a little glassy.

Sean scooted his chair around the edge of the table until he was right next to her. "Maybe we both have something to be sorry for. But don't worry about that. I know it's on your mind still, so let's talk about it."

"It just scares me," she said. "My family."

Sean had not thought of it this way. He tended to think that all muggles were strangers. And Evelyn's parents, Marlowe's mother... they were not really muggles. They were related, after all, to wizards and witches.

"Nothing's going to happen to your family, Ev," said Sean.

"You don't know that," she said. "You have no idea what could happen."

"No," he said. "But I also believe that the ministry has got it under control. It'll all get taken care of."

"It's not that easy, Sean. The idea's out there now. Even if they catch the ones who did it, someone else is going to see that and think, wow, what a great idea. What a message. I could do that too. And then it spreads. You can't just control it by catching them. And if you haven't noticed, it's been four days since the article, longer since it happened, and not one of them has been caught."

"Professor Mason said they had leads though, didn't he?"

"Leads aren't the same as captures," she said stubbornly.

"No," he agreed. "But they're better than nothing."

Evelyn tipped sideways, landing heavily against his shoulder. "How are you always so positive?"

"Dunno," he said. "Let's just... not worry about it until there's more news, okay?"

Evelyn nodded, though he doubted she would actually follow his advice.

"But," he said, and he pulled her into a hug resting his chin on the top of her head. "If you ever want to talk about it... I will."

"I know," she said.