LUCY:

Falling.

It was first year again. We had successfully defended the Stone. I was heading up to the castle after filling in for Harry at Quidditch practice, and Cedric was sprinting full speed in my direction.

My brother collided with me so forcefully I would have fallen to the ground if he hadn't been holding me tight enough to make sure I didn't.

The scene disappeared into blackness.

Falling.

It was second year again. The Chamber of Secrets would haunt Hogwarts no more. I was heading to the Hospital Wing with Ron and Lockhart, and I spied Cedric at the end of the hallway. I called his name and hurtled toward him.

My knees buckled with relief the second I was in his arms.

The scene disappeared into blackness.

Falling.

It was third year again. Cedric was leaving for St. Mungo's, and I was crying because I wasn't going to see him for two and a half months, and Buckbeak was going to be executed at sunset, and the full moon would rise after that, and Cedric wouldn't be there in the morning, and my world was falling apart.

I launched myself at him.

The scene disappeared into blackness.

Falling.

The Quidditch Pitch was packed to the brim, but I wasn't in the sky. I was in the stands, between Henry and George. The crowd was erupting into cheers.

I shook my head. "No, no, no, no, no..."

The scene disappeared into blackness.

"I miss you," I whispered to the darkness.

I thought about getting up and writing him a letter, but I knew that it wouldn't help. I just wanted him back, I just wanted to write a letter I knew he would read, I just wanted to be able to slip down to the Hufflepuff common room and wake him up and talk to him, I just wanted him back.

All at once, it was too much, the storm inside of me. I parted the curtains the slightest bit, shoved my feet into slippers, and stole from the dormitory without a second thought.

I didn't even bother pretending to sleepwalk. I jumped through the portrait hole, pretended not to hear the Fat Lady asking where I was going at 2 in the morning, and made my way down the stairs. My feet did my thinking for me, and after a little while, I was standing at the entrance of the Room of Requirement.

Why am I here?

"You won't find him in there."

I jumped about five feet into the air and whirled around to face the voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff house ghost, said gently.

"It's alright," I replied, blushing. "I frighten more easily now than I used to."

"I can imagine." He folded his hands in front of himself. "That room is among the most remarkable magic I have seen in my existence, but I am afraid not even the Room of Requirement can bring back the dead."

My eyes filled with tears without warning, and I tried to force my emotion away, but the storm continued to churn. "I just want to talk to him again," I managed. "He would know what to do. He would make it better."

"You are not the only one to say that. I've heard variations of that phrase whispered throughout the Hufflepuff common room every single day since school resumed. Transfiguration homework, friendship troubles, even in regards to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. You're not alone in wishing for Cedric's guidance."

I sniffled and wiped my cheeks with my sleeve. "I feel like there's a 'but' coming."

He smiled sadly. "Not quite a 'but,' though I do have more to say. You see, Lucy, your brother was an extraordinary person. And when an extraordinary person leaves us, there will always be a hole that nobody can quite seem to fill."

"Is it pointless, then? Will it be like this forever?"

Will I never be happy again?

"The hole will always be there, but with time, the emptiness will begin to hurt less. The hole will never be filled perfectly again, but there will be people who will come in and help fill the space." The Fat Friar paused and studied me with sympathetic eyes. "Your grief runs deep, Lucy Diggory, and I know it runs deeper than anyone else's. Just the same, you are not alone, no matter how much the darkness may try to convince you of that."

I nodded slowly. "I guess I have been feeling rather lonely."

"Perhaps it's time for you to push back against the darkness engulfing you so that the light of love can shine through."

I swallowed hard. But I'm a monster. I forced the thought away and nodded. "Alright. Thank you for talking to me."

"Always happy to help a hurting heart," he replied with a kind, if sad, smile. "Good night, Lucy."

With that, he drifted away. I watched him go for a moment before turning around.

The door to the Room of Requirement had disappeared, as if it had decided I had all I needed.

So why do I still feel so empty?

I pressed my head up against the stone where I knew the door should have been and felt hot tears prick the backs of my eyes again.

"Please," I whispered. "Please, I need Cedric, I need to see him somehow, I need to talk to him, I..." I dropped my fist and backed away, still pleading with the blank wall. "I need this hole to go away, I need this pain to stop, I need this all to end."

I lowered myself to the ground, pressing my back up against the opposite wall.

I thought a bit about what the Friar said. About the light of love and the darkness of grief.

Light and dark had always been complicated for me.

For everyone else, dark was bad.

When the night was dark, truly dark, I could be at peace. Darkness meant the moon was new. Darkness meant I could exist as I was in that moment without fear of what I knew was coming.

In the darkness, I could see the most stars.

For everyone else, light was good.

But when the world was bathed in the haunting glow of a full moon, I was in turmoil, tormented by my own condition. tortured by my own existence. That light, the light of a full moon, was what I hated more than anything else.

And yet... the light of the sunrise had always brought hope with it. The sunrise brought relief, release.

It did not bring peace, though. The sunrise brought another transformation, one even more painful than the transformation that occurred when the sunset gave way to the moonrise.

It was always harder for me to turn from a wolf to a human than a human to a wolf.

Was it symbolic? I didn't think I wanted to know.

The Friar was right. Darkness had engulfed me. I was in one endless, torturous, hopeless night.

Cedric always said some things never changed. Cedric always said to have faith in the sunrise.

But Cedric never considered that one day, the sun would rise without him to greet it.

Cedric never knew just how much agony a sunrise could bring. Cedric never knew that sometimes I found myself wishing the sun wouldn't rise at all.

Just the same, the sun rose. I remained in that corridor the entire time. Silently begging the room to do the impossible. Silently wishing the pain would just go away. Silently crying for everything I had lost.

But the wall remained a wall. The door did not open for me.

Where there is light
A shadow appears
The cause and effect
When life interferes

After feeding Tuck and Fang, I slipped up to the dormitory and hastily gathered my materials for the day before heading down to breakfast. A dull headache was beginning behind my eyes, and I didn't feel like facing anyone.

Professor McGonagall was arriving in the Great Hall the same time I was, and I remembered through my tired fog the ugly "T" that had been scrawled on my Potions essay.

"Professor?" I called. She turned around, and I noticed from the way her eyes softened that my long night was written all over my face. I chose to ignore the pity and pressed on. "Would it be alright if I met with you sometime today? There was an issue that arose for me yesterday, and I was hoping you could help me find a solution."

She nodded. "Of course. After dinner, my office?"

"I'll be there. Thank you, Professor."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but at that moment, I heard an explosive "HARRY POTTER!" followed by shouts so loud I couldn't distinguish what she was saying from the echoes bouncing around the room.

I cringed. Angelina's wrath had been unleashed upon poor Harry.

Professor McGonagall was there first.

"Miss Johnson, how dare you make such a racket in the Great Hall! Five points from Gryffindor!"

I went to stand next to Harry, as something of a show of solidarity. Umbridge had overreacted first, now Angelina. I was still seething at the unfairness of it all.

"But Professor — he's gone and landed himself in detention again!" Angelina protested.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry with eyes flashing. "What's this, Potter? Detention? From whom?"

"From Professor Umbridge," he said softly.

"Are you telling me that after the warning I gave you, you lost your temper in Professor Umbridge's class again?"

"Yes."

"Potter, you must get a grip on yourself! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Gryffindor!"

"But — what? Professor, no!"

"He wasn't quite so angry as last time, Professor," I piped up, desperate to defend Harry. "Professor Umbridge overreacted." I looked at Angelina. "Trust me, Harry doesn't want to miss practice, it would be loads better than detention with that- with Professor Umbridge," I amended, quite literally biting my lip so I didn't say what I actually thought of that horrible woman.

"Besides, Professor," Harry said, "I'm already being punished by her, so why do you have to take points as well?"

"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever. No, not another word of complaint, Potter! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team Captaincy!"

With that, Professor McGonagall marched up to the staff table and Angelina glared at Harry before going to sit at the opposite end of the table from us.

I slid in between the twins and immediately started aggressively spreading butter on a slice of toast to distract myself.

"Easy does it, you don't want to cut a finger off," George said. "Shaky hands and all."

"Thanks for the concern, George, but I don't really care if I do," I muttered in response, though I did slow down ever so slightly. "Couldn't hurt any worse than Umbridge detentions. Might even help, quite frankly."

"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night in Umbridge's detention!" Harry complained as he sat down across the table. "How is that fair, how?"

Ron sighed. "I know, mate, she's bang out of order."

"Wait, wait, back up," Fred cut in, stopping me with one hand and looking across the table at Harry. "What is this about Umbridge detentions?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. Harry and I had both slipped up and said too much.

I set down the knife and the toast and unwound the bandage from my hand. Harry held his hand out across the table for them to see.

"I thought you said it was a cabbage bite," George muttered, snatching up my hand to see for himself.

"Yeah, well, I wish it was," I said, snatching my hand back and redoing the bandage that hid the still-red scar from the rest of the world. "Not worth the trouble. Nothing anyone can do anyway."

"Not worth- Cub, the woman's torturing you! Both of you!"

"Do you honestly think I don't know that?" I asked in a small voice. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"It's not fine!" Fred burst out. "If McGonagall knew about this-"

"She doesn't know, and I'm not about to tell her."

"Why not? She would go nuts if she knew."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, she probably would. And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"Like I said," I muttered, spreading butter over my toast again. "Don't worry about it. Nothing you can do anyway."

A cacophony of owls announced the arrival of the mail. I didn't look up from my breakfast, and as such, didn't even realize an owl had landed in front of me.

Until Fred started laughing, that is. "Got a secret admirer, Cub?"

I glanced up, then felt fear wrap its cold hands around my throat.

The owl had a single red rose in its beak, with a scrap of paper tied to the end.

And just like that, all of the air disappeared from the room.

"No, Lucy, wait, don't touch it," Harry said, his hand shooting forward to stop mine. "It might be cursed."

"I don't care," I replied, snatching the rose and the note from the owl's beak with my other hand.

"Lu- no, don't let it get away!" Harry lunged forward and snagged it by the foot. It protested loudly, nipping at his fingers.

I reached up to grab the other foot, and Harry and I pulled it back down to the table. I dropped what I was holding and reached into my pocket for my wand.

"Petrificus totalus!"

But my shaking hands didn't cast the spell properly, so the owl kept struggling.

"Bloody hell," I spat.

"I've got it," Harry said, drawing his own wand. "Petrificus totalus!"

The owl stopped struggling and went rigid.

Harry's eyes were serious and calculating as he looked at me. "Why did you touch it?"

"It's not like it was cursed!"

"It might have been!"

"And?"

"And it could have cursed you!"

"And?"

He shook his head. "Fine. Dodge my concerns all you want. What does the note say?"

I flipped it over. Your third detention is tonight at 5. I would have told you this face-to-face, but Professor Umbridge seemed concerned for my safety if I did considering the way you nearly attacked me again when I informed you of your second detention. How's the hand? From what I hear, your collection of scars is almost ten years in the making. Got another one on the way now?

It wasn't signed, but it didn't matter. I knew that handwriting.

After sitting next to Draco Malfoy for two years in Ancient Runes, I knew that handwriting.

"Can someone please explain what's going on now?" George asked, snapping me from my daze.

I blinked and crumpled the note into a ball, temper flaring again within me. "Just Malfoy trying to scare me."

Harry immediately rose to his feet, but I shot my legs out under the table and grabbed his calf.

"Don't."

He tried to wrench himself away. "Lucy, I can't just sit here and let him-"

I grabbed my wand and pointed it at him. "I said don't." I kept the wand pointed at him and sighed, before explaining in a quiet voice to Ron, Hermione, and the twins. "The woman responsible for my family being betrayed is named Rose. That's why this-" I lifted the rose with my free hand. "-was such a cruel thing to do."

Harry reluctantly sat back down and reached forward to lower my wand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied. I pointed the wand at the owl. "Finite incantatem." It didn't work the first time, or the second time, but finally, on the third time, the owl straightened up and glared at me. "I'm sorry, I thought you were from someone else." I handed the rose back to him. "Would you mind doing me a favor and returning this to the person who tasked you with bringing this to me?"

He took off and, surely enough, dropped the rose right into Malfoy's lap. I glared at his smirking face for a second before shaking my head and looking away again. I dropped my head into my hands, sighing as I tucked the crumpled-up note into my pocket.

"Well, what did it say?" Ron asked. "The note, I mean."

"Something about another detention tonight at 5. But it's fine-" I said quickly, noting the panic on everyone's faces — Harry's especially. I held up my hand for emphasis. "With my hands shaking like this, I can negotiate another time to do it. She only wants me to go back to detention to make the scar more legible than it is right now, which won't happen tonight."

"Lucy, last time you thought you'd get off without a problem..." Hermione started to say, but I shook my head.

"Don't worry. I've been good lately. I'll convince her. I'll just head up there after classes today and put on a good show."

Nobody said anything else, so I let my eyes wander. I spied the Fat Friar at the Hufflepuff table talking to a group of second- and third-years, who were all laughing at something he had just said.

I suddenly felt cold in comparison to the warmth in front of me, as if a cloud had passed over the sun right over where I was sitting and only where I was sitting. I even looked up to see if that was in fact what had happened — the enchanted ceiling was cloudless.

I shivered involuntarily, and Harry's foot found mine under the table.

His eyes pulled me in like gravity.

"Are you sure you're okay, Lu?"

I didn't answer for a moment. I approached the invisible barrier.

The war continued within me, anger and sadness and darkness and light all tangled up in one jumbled mess, one jumbled mess of anxiety and exhaustion and bitterness and resignation.

It was overwhelming. It was never-ending.

The ache behind my eyes intensified.

"I don't know," I admitted finally.

I didn't end up having to wait for the end of classes to see Umbridge. She was inspecting Transfiguration.

Ron grinned as he and Hermione took the seats in front of Harry and me. "Excellent. Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves."

"That would be nice," I whispered with a hesitant smile Harry's direction.

His expression brightened a bit, and he smiled back. "Yeah, it would be."

"That will do," Professor McGonagall said as she entered the room. She didn't look twice at the Pink Venomous Tentacula who was just itching to wrap her vines around something, anything. "Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework — Miss Brown, please take this box of mice — don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you — and hand one to each student."

"Hem, hem," came Umbridge's annoying cough. Professor McGonagall pointedly ignored her.

"Thank Merlin," I muttered under my breath when I got back my essay with a very-clear O at the top.

"She passed me too," Harry whispered, showing me his A. "I think Snape's just a git."

"You reckon?" I whispered back sarcastically. He pressed a knuckle to his mouth to stop himself from laughing as we tucked our essays away.

"Right then, everyone, listen closely — Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention — most of you have now successfully vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have the gist of the spell. Today we shall be-"

"Hem, hem."

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec-"

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom."

Harry and I exchanged an excited glance.

"As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell-"

"Hem, hem."

Professor McGonagall whirled around. "I wonder how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."

Umbridge made no verbal reply, but she began writing something on the clipboard.

For half a second, I was worried for Professor McGonagall.

But then I realized that she would be fine. As far as I was concerned, Professor McGonagall was unstoppable. She'd be fine no matter what Umbridge wrote about her.

"As I was saying, the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So — you know the incantation, let me see what you can do."

"How she can lecture me about not losing my temper with Umbridge!" Harry hissed. Just the same, he was smiling.

I raised my eyebrows at him before turning to my mouse.

While I had done well enough on my essay, I was struggling with my magic. Part of it, I was sure, had to be caused by the shaking. Swift, confident wand movements were difficult to perform when I could barely even hold a quill between my fingers. But there was something else too, I felt, some deeper disturbance. Neville and Harry had seen me struggling the day before the full moon in Charms, which was the worst it had ever been, but I was still having a harder time than I'd ever had before in Transfiguration.

I had been trying to vanish my mouse — very, very unsuccessfully — for about ten minutes when I became aware of someone watching me.

I glanced up to see Umbridge's eyes boring into me. My face immediately flushed with a combination of humiliation and fury — What does she want from me? — and I looked back down at my mouse, hand shaking a bit more as I said the incantation (again) and bit back a frustrated sigh as nothing changed... again.

"She was looking at me too," Harry whispered. He repeated the incantation, and I'll admit I (selfishly) felt a bit better when his mouse didn't change either. "What d'you reckon she wants with us?"

"Maybe she thinks 'Evanesco' would make a nice new scar, seeing as neither of us has managed it yet," I replied dully. "Evanesco!"

"Am I allowed to glare at her, or do you think I'll get another week of detentions where I have to write 'I must not glare at old pink toads?' Evanesco!"

"Evanesco! Don't even bother. Not worth the risk."

He sighed. "Another time, then. Evanesco!"

When Professor McGonagall told us to pack up, Harry and I had both managed to vanish most of our mice. As the class started filing out, I remained in place with my bag on my shoulder, figuring I might as well ask Umbridge about detention while she was there rather than making a separate trip later. Harry, Ron, and Hermione lingered too, though they were more interested in eavesdropping than anything.

"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge asked, approaching Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Thirty-nine years this December," she replied.

"Very well. You will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."

"I can hardly wait. Hurry up, you four."

"Actually, Professor McGonagall, I was staying behind because I had a quick question for Professor Umbridge," I said in a sickeningly sweet voice that didn't sound much like the way I normally talked as the other three left, catching onto what I was about to do. Just the same, I knew they'd be listening at the door. I turned to Umbridge with my best angelic expression. "Assuming that's alright, of course, Professor?"

She had the presence of mind to look as if she'd been caught off-guard, just as I hoped she would be. "Er, yes, if you're sure it'll be quick, Miss Ever-"

"Brilliant, thank you," I interrupted before she could finish my last name. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder, making a display of wincing as the bandage rubbed the wrong way on my still-healing hand. "I received the note from Draco Malfoy this morning, Professor, the one you asked him to send."

"Ah, yes. You will be joining Mr. Potter tonight. What about it?"

Panic and anger and concern flashed across Professor McGonagall's face, but I shot her a pleading Let me handle this, I promise it's not what it seems look before turning back to Umbridge. "Well, you would like the message to sink in properly, yes?"

"Yes, of course." Despite her light tone, I could see the tension creeping into her shoulders. I think she knew Professor McGonagall would go ballistic if she knew about what these detentions entailed. And I liked making her uncomfortable.

I held up my uninjured hand to demonstrate how badly it was shaking. "I think the message failed to sink in the past two times because of this shaking, Professor. I think the lesson would be more clear if I waited for this to pass. I've been told it should get better soon, after which I would be more than happy to by all means write line after line until this lesson is one that will never go away."

I made a point of not looking at Professor McGonagall, who was eyeing the bandage on my other hand suspiciously.

Professor Umbridge seemed to be considering my proposal, but I could tell she was incredibly reluctant to give me my way.

"If I have more time to heal," I added, emphasizing the word in an attempt to pierce through her stubborn thick-headedness, "it would likely make the detention more worthwhile. Don't you think?"

She nodded once. "Very well."

I could tell from the look on Professor McGonagall's face that I could expect a number of questions about this later, but for the moment, the battle was won. There was a war ahead, but I had scored a small victory.

Umbridge was observing Care of Magical Creatures that day, too. We were still working with bowtruckles, so it was easy to eavesdrop.

"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" Professor Umbridge asked.

"Quite correct. I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid," she replied.

I bit my lip. If one single person says something bad about Hagrid...

"Hmm... I wonder — the headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter — can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"

"'Fraid I can't. Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks teaching work, accepted — that's as much as I know. Well... shall I get started then?"

"Yes, please do."

"If Malfoy says something about Hagrid, I'll speak up, let me take the hit this time," I whispered to Harry in a voice I hoped Hermione and Ron couldn't hear.

"What?" he whispered back.

"Look, I know neither of us will be happy if — or, let's be honest, when — that happens, so just let me handle it. With the delay I've got now, just let her add it onto my sentence and not yours, you've already got the rest of the week."

"No, Lu, I'm not just going to let someone insult Hagrid-"

"Neither am I."

He shook his head. "You've got enough to try to deal with at the moment."

"Please," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "As if you don't?"

"Stupid self-sacrificing Gryffindor," he muttered. "We all know I've got the worse temper and worse reputation, just let me handle it."

"How about whoever says something first handles it?" I suggested, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. "The other person keeps their mouth shut."

"Fine. But it'll be me, I'll make sure of it."

I smirked at Harry. "Stupid self-sacrificing Gryffindor."

Our chance presented itself at the end of class when Umbridge approached Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Overall, how do you, as a temporary member of staff — an objective outsider, I suppose you might say — how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?"

"Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent! No, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed."

"Ah... and what are you planning to cover with this class this year — assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?"

My fists clenched. He will. He will return. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't.

"Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in O.W.L. Not much left to do — they've studied unicorns and nifflers, I thought we'd cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognize crups and knarls, you know."

"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate. Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"

"Bloody hell, here we go," I whispered, feeling familiar flames of anger licking up the sides of my neck. I clenched my fists even harder, everything within me tensing like I was an animal waiting to strike.

"That was me, I was slashed by a hippogriff," Malfoy announced.

"There's more to the story than that, Professor," I said, leveling Draco with my iciest glare.

Umbridge's quill froze, hovering over the page. She glanced at me curiously.

I lifted my chin. "Professor Hagrid gave very clear instructions not to insult the hippogriffs. If my memory serves me, the introduction to the lesson was along the lines of 'Don't ever insult a hippogriff, because it might be the last thing you do.' However, Mr. Malfoy here seemed to have not been paying very close attention to this critical part of the lesson, because he insulted Buckbeak and was very fortunate to escape with such a minor injury." I crossed my arms, making sure my bandaged hand was on display. "To tell you the truth, I've received worse injuries at the hands of professors than he did from the creature." I paused for a second. Just to watch her squirm. Then I added, "That was Professor Lockhart. He blinded me when he tried and failed to heal a broken nose sustained in a Quidditch match." I looked at Draco again. "That's the full story, Professor. Did I lie, Draco?"

"You know, funny enough, I don't recall you being around when I was interacting with Buckbeak," he said after a long moment. "If I recall correctly, which I'm sure I do, you were helping someone else when maybe you should have been reminding me not to insult the hippogriff."

"Now that's just not fair," Archie said with a snort and a roll of his eyes. "You were the only one who seemed to have trouble remembering not to be a tosspot to hippogriffs, Malfoy. Besides, even if Lucy wasn't standing right there when you were hurt, I was, and I heard you insult him. What did you think was going to happen, honestly? Nobody likes being insulted, creatures included. I'm with Lucy, you were lucky to get off with just a scratch."

I shot Archie a grateful look before looking back at Professor Umbridge. I pasted on a smile. "Does that answer your question, Professor?"

"Well," she said, clearly flustered but trying not to show it, "a student should never have been in so much danger-"

"To tell you the truth, it seems to me Mr. Malfoy here endangered himself, Professor Umbridge," Professor Grubbly-Plank piped up. "Insulting a hippogriff is a one-way ticket to catastrophic injury. Miss Diggory's right, that could have gone much worse than it did."

Umbridge lowered her quill, stiffening. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."

"Jolly good," Professor Grubbly-Plank replied, and with that, the lesson was over.

I unclenched my fists and hissed in pain. I hadn't realized how hard I was pulling on the skin of my wounded hand until my adrenaline started to drop.

Ron whistled lowly. "That was bloody impressive, Lucy."

I felt my face heat. "I didn't do anything. Archie and Professor Grubbly-Plank were the ones who saved the day. I doubt Umbridge would have listened to only me."

"Hey, you started it," Archie said, coming over and patting my shoulder. "I only jumped in since I know Umbridge is out for your blood."

"Well, thanks for jumping in," I replied. I shot an amused glance at Harry because of the unintentional accuracy of Archie's word choice — Umbridge was literally and not just metaphorically out for my blood — but he didn't return it. He was looking at me in an odd way, so I waved my hand in front of his face. "Anybody home? Class is over."

"Right," he said slowly.

I shook my head. Something was on his mind. "Come on, you should eat dinner before detention, Merlin knows when the Pink Venomous Tentacula will let you go tonight."

Archie busted up laughing. "Henry called her that last night! Was it your idea?"

"I wish I could take the credit, but it was George Weasley's idea," I said.

Archie laughed harder, and we started heading up to the castle. I fell into step with Harry.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, I am," he replied. "Just impressed is all."

"Yeah, well," I mumbled, feeling my face heat. "No one tries to make Hagrid look bad on my watch and gets away with it. You can fight everyone else's battles if you want, but I want Hagrid's."

Harry half-smiled. "That's fair."

"What is it, Harry?" I pressed gently. "Obviously something's bothering you."

His smile faded. "Lucy, there are a great number of things bothering me right now, and to list them all would just be depressing for both of us."

"I wouldn't mind. I understand."

"I know you do," he said. "That's the problem."

He fell silent, and I fell silent, and with that, the conversation was over.

I tapped lightly on Professor McGonagall's office door with my non-injured hand. She called for me to come in, so I did, careful to shut the door.

"Thanks for saying you'd meet with me, Professor," I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Of course, Lucy. Go ahead, take a seat."

I obliged and started rifling through my bag for my essay as she stacked her work with a flick of her wand to clear her desk.

"Is this about Professor Umbridge?" she asked.

"Er, not quite," I replied, digging a bit deeper into my bag.

"Something relating to what happened in the graveyard, or the return of You-Know-Who?"

I shook my head. "Not directly about that, either."

"Your conversation with the Fat Friar, perhaps?"

I stopped and lifted my head, half a smile on my face. "Alright, I'll bite, Professor. How did you hear about that?"

She offered half a smile back to me. "There are many people who care about your well-being, Lucy, even if you're not always aware of them."

I felt the tips of my ears turn red, and I plunged back into my bag. Finally, I found the ridiculously-graded essay.

I placed it on her desk and sighed. "It's about Professor Snape. You and Professor Sinistra seemed to be able to read my essays reasonably well, seeing as I received Os on both assignments, but I'm not sure what to do for Potions. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Ah, I see," she said, pushing her glasses up on her nose and skimming my essay. "I won't pretend that it is easy to decipher your handwriting, but I know you are trying your best given the circumstances. And your handwriting, believe it or not, it better than some at this school."

I cringed. "In that case, I'm sorry. I thought mine was the worst."

"Hardly," she replied. She set the essay down. "I am no expert in Potions, but it seems a solid essay to me. I had an idea about your essays, actually, if you'd be open to something different for the time being. I can't imagine doing homework has been particularly enjoyable lately."

I shook my head. "Lots of late nights. I really do try to write neatly, the quill just escapes me sometimes. What was your idea?"

"Well, until you can write again, I was thinking you could do a verbal essay of sorts. For instance, what have you learned about Vanishing Spells?"

"Vanishing Spells can vanish both animate and inanimate objects into non-being, which is to say, everything," I recited as if from a textbook. "The complexity of the object adds to the difficulty of the spell. Furthermore, some objects can be enchanted to resist or even actively sabotage attempts to vanish them."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "You certainly know the material. I will bring this up with your professors at our next meeting, but would you prefer this approach to a more traditional one for the time being?"

"That would be great, thank you," I said, feeling a bit of tension release from my shoulders. "I really have been trying my best, Professor," I added in a small voice, "even though I know it's not truly showing at the moment."

"I know," she said gently. She paused for a moment, studying me before speaking again. "Lucy, dear, what happened to your hand?"

I froze, biting my lip. "I-I would say it's nothing, b-but the advice on my hand wouldn't want me to lie," I replied almost inaudibly as I began to unwrap it. I held it out. "It's Professor Umbridge. Harry and I write lines with a cursed quill. The reason I was able to delay my next detention is because of how illegible my handwriting is right now. The message was clearer the first time because I was shaking less, but the second time was closer to the full moon, so the quill was unsteady, s-so it looks like this."

Professor McGonagall was as still as a statue, her mouth pressed into a firm line, her eyes steely as she stared at my hand. I wondered for a second if I had made a grave mistake in telling her.

"Why was there a second detention?" she asked after a moment, her voice deathly calm.

"On the train, I... well, Draco Malfoy came in, and, well, I lost my temper a bit with him. He tried to get me in trouble for having Tuck with me, and I taunted him because... well, b-because I realized that his dad was one of the people who... who..." I bit my lip. "He told Professor Umbridge I attacked him, which I didn't, but when I tried to tell her I hadn't attacked him, she said she believed Draco over me because of his dad's position in the Ministry, and..." I shook my head. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have provoked him, I was just so eager to fight back for once in my life, not that I even did, really..."

I glanced down at my hand, my face reddening again as tears filled my eyes, hanging my head as I waited for a reprimand that didn't come.

"It's not your fault, Lucy," Professor McGonagall said. I glanced up, surprised. She shook her head. "No, this is much bigger than just Draco Malfoy being a bully, I'm afraid. Much bigger."

"Harry and I don't want these detentions," I said, finding it hard to stop talking now that I had finally started. "W-We're both just so angry. Or, well, he is. I-I go back and forth between angry and sad, which is how I keep my temper in check, really, because every time I get angry about the way the world is right now, I remember why..." I swallowed hard. "I don't think I would have been able to cast a spell anyway, truthfully, because something's gone wrong with my magic. Have you noticed?"

"I have, and I'm not the only one."

Hopelessness was pulling me down, as if gravity were growing stronger by the second, tethering me to the ground.

"Will it be like this forever?" I asked for a second time that day.

"Oh, Lucy, no," she replied immediately. "It will get better. As you said to Professor Umbridge earlier, the shaking will stop as the last of the Dark magic from the Cruciatus Curse leaves your body. I'm sure your magic will right itself shortly thereafter. It will get better. You know that, don't you?"

I nodded.

It was easier to lie when I didn't have to lie out loud.

"The world just seems so much scarier without Cedric in it," I whispered, looking down at my feet. "I've followed him for as long as I can remember. He's always been there. I could always run to him when something went wrong. A-And now I can't. I can't, ever again. And my parents, I..." I shook my head. "It's like I've forgotten how to be, Professor. I don't have Quidditch anymore, I don't have my family anymore, I don't even have magic anymore."

Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and came around the front. I glanced up and accepted the hug she was offering, and for just a moment, the storm quieted.

Just a moment.

When I left the office after talking a couple minutes longer with Professor McGonagall, the winds grew stronger again, and the rain poured harder again, and the ground beneath my feet trembled again.

I was walking in a storm, no, I was the storm, no, it was something else entirely, I didn't know where the storm ended and where I began, the storm and I were one and the same, the way Lucy Everlin and Lucy Diggory were one and the same, so vastly juxtapositional yet both somehow true, the way Lucy the werewolf and Lucy the human were one and the same, so strikingly contradictory in nature yet both present in the same bones, and I was tired, I was so tired, I didn't want to fight anymore, I just wanted the world to stand still, but it didn't, it never did, not even when my world fell apart, the way it had too many times at that point, I didn't want to fight anymore, I wanted everything to just... stop.

I don't want to fight, I don't want to fight it
I don't want to fight, I don't want to fight it
I don't want to fight, I don't want to fight it

When I got back to the common room, Hermione was sitting in a corner by herself, two bowls of essence of murtlap in front of her as she read from the book in her lap. I made my way over to her and set my bag down.

"Oh, hello!" she said a little too brightly. "What did Professor McGonagall have to say?"

"She had an idea for an easier way for me to get my homework done," I replied with a shrug. "She asked about my hand directly, so I told her about the detentions."

"Well, that sounds productive. Here." She slid one of the bowls over to me. "I didn't realize your hand was still so bad."

I dipped my hand in reluctantly, and sweet relief took away some of the sting.

"This is helping a bit. Thank you. The quills are cursed," I added quietly, "not to mention the Dark magic still in my system. It probably doesn't help. It will be bad for a while."

"You mean there's residual Dark magic in- Lucy, what?"

"Something else we talked about," I muttered.

"But what do you mean?"

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed by now that my magic has been... not as strong."

"Yes, of course, but I never thought... I mean... how?"

I shook my head. "I don't really want to talk about it more tonight, if that's okay."

I could tell from the frustration on her face that she was dying to know more, but she nodded after a moment's hesitation.

"Where's Ron?" I asked.

"Quidditch practice," she answered slowly, as if I should have known this already. "The twins, too. Lucy, are you feeling alright? You look a bit..."

"I didn't sleep well. That's all it is, really."

Hermione nodded, still studying me like I was a puzzle she was trying to solve. She returned to her reading after a moment, and I got a textbook out, too. I lost myself in the runes, noticing offhandedly that one vaguely resembled an osprey.

To my surprise, it was four Weasleys, not three, that tumbled through the portrait hole.

"Merlin's bloody beard, Cub, that hand looks horrible," Fred commented, staring at the bowl in my lap.

"Hurts like hell, I tell you," I muttered, setting my book aside. "How was practice?"

"It was great!" Ginny gushed. "I filled in for Harry as Seeker! Don't tell him I told you, though, I don't want him to feel bad."

I managed a small smile and high-fived her with my good hand. "Hell yeah! What did Angelina have to say?"

"She said the balance of gender was a nice change of pace," Ginny reported giddily.

I laughed a bit at that. "I'm sure she did. Nicely done, Gin."

The Weasleys all headed off to shower, and only Ron returned to the corner.

"How d'you reckon Harry's doing?" he asked once he was settled in with his essay.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But this essence of murtlap really is helping, so at least we'll have relief to offer him when he's back."

"What book did you find this in again?" Hermione inquired. "I started reading the library's medical books as soon as we found out what really happened in these detentions, and I couldn't find anything for cursed flesh wounds."

"It was in one of Cedric's healing books." I swallowed hard. "He read anything he could get his hands on that even vaguely alluded to anything with healing properties. Spells, potions, creature fluids, you name it."

She nodded thoughtfully and returned to her reading.

As the common room emptied with still no sign of Harry, we relocated to a more comfortable spot. I lost myself in the ancient runes again, and they started swirling together on the page...

"Oh, there he is," a soft voice said.

I awoke with a start, unaware I had even fallen asleep. It was apparently Ron's shoulder I had landed on, because we were on the couch and Hermione was sitting in an armchair across the way.

She pushed the bowl toward Harry as he landed heavily on the couch next to me.

"Here, soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help."

I felt my chest tighten at the sight of his mangled hand, but I knew the solution would help as he dipped his hand in.

"Thanks," he said with a relieved sigh.

"She's an awful woman. Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in, and Lucy, too, I guess, but I think she was asleep... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," Ron said.

I almost laughed, but then I realized he was completely serious.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I meant... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defense from her at all."

Ron shrugged. "Well, what can we do about that? It's too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well, you know, I was thinking today... I was thinking that — maybe the time's come when we should just... just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" Harry inquired, sounding suspicious.

"Well... learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves."

"Come off it! You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again?" Ron asked incredulously.

"But this is much more important than homework!" Hermione declared.

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron replied with a smirk.

"Don't be silly, of course there is! It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year-"

"We can't do much by ourselves. I mean, alright, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose-"

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books. We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

Harry glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before saying, "If you're talking about Lupin..."

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin. He's too busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?"

Hermione sighed and leaned forward, looking back and forth between me and Harry.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you."

Harry glanced at me again, and I offered a confused look. I don't know what she means any more than you do.

"About us what?" he asked.

"I'm talking about you two teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

I looked at Harry, torn between bafflement and amusement. We both looked to Ron for confirmation that Hermione was batty, but he was nodding slowly.

"That's an idea," he said.

Harry blinked. "What's an idea?"

"You two. Teaching us to do it."

I shook my head. "How am I supposed to teach you something I can't do myself at the moment? Hermione, we were just talking about how much my magic is damaged right now, I couldn't possibly-"

"You could still teach us how to do it, I know you know how," she said, talking very quickly at this point. "Listen, you two are the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts, curse damage or no curse damage."

Harry grinned, looking as if he found this all quite hilarious. "Lucy, sure, but me? No, I'm not, you've beaten me in every test, Hermione-"

"Actually, I haven't. You beat me in our third year — the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've done!"

"What do you mean?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me. Let's think. Uh... first year, you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who."

"But that was luck, that wasn't skill-"

"Second year, you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I-"

"Third year, you fought off about a hundred dementors at once-"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't-"

"Last year, you fought off You-Know-Who again-"

Harry shook his head, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Listen to me! Just listen to me, alright? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck, I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help-"

But Ron and Hermione kept smirking. They were right, but so was Harry.

"Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, alright? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right — but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing — STOP LAUGHING!" He jumped to his feet, but I had seen it coming, so I was able to save the bowl of murtlap essence before it smashed to the floor. "You don't know what it's like! You — neither of you — you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Cedric was stupid, like he messed up — you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me-"

Ron cut him off, his smirk completely gone. "We weren't saying anything like that, mate. We weren't having a go at Cedric, you know we wouldn't, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the-"

"Harry, don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you. We need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort," Hermione said.

Harry collapsed back onto the couch, breathing heavily.

I wordlessly started drawing small circles on his shoulder with my thumb, the way he so often did to calm me down, and he blinked as if he'd forgotten I was there. His eyes were wide when he faced me.

"Lu, are you okay? I-I didn't mean to... blow up like that, it just happened."

Ron and Hermione turned to face me too. As if they'd also forgotten I was there.

I dropped my hands from Harry's shoulder and hugged my left knee to my chest, letting my chin land on top.

"I'm fine, but... what would you have said about me?" I asked without looking at anyone. "Harry's done all of that, yeah, but what have I done?"

"Lu, you've done the most," Harry said without missing a beat. "You've been learning loads of extra spells with the twins since first year, you conjured a fully corporeal patronus before I did, and, over summer, you got out all by yourself, without any help."

"Yeah, with jokes spells and a stolen wand," I spat. I looked up at Ron and Hermione. "I'm no hero. I woke up one day, realized the Death Eater guarding me had fallen asleep and dropped his wand, so I grabbed it and filled the tunnel with the most ridiculous-" I shook my head, a panicky, frenzied, anxious feeling swirling around my head and making me dizzy. "Anyway, that's what happened. I got lucky. I mean, look at me, I couldn't do any of those spells if I tried right now, because after being tortured for only a week a month and a half ago, I can't even do so much as write an essay or cast a spell I mastered as a first-year." This all poured out of me so quickly I didn't have time to really stop the flow of words before they had all escaped. I shook my head again. "Cedric would have been the perfect person to do this. N-Not me."

A heavy silence fell over the four of us.

Nobody spoke for more than a minute.

In that minute, I found that my emotions were a pendulum, swinging wildly back and forth, more akin to a piece of rope in a tempest than a pendulum, really.

Angry. Voldemort killed Cedric.

Sadness. Cedric is gone.

Sadness. My parents are gone too.

Sadness. I'm alone.

Anger. I was alone in the caves, too.

Anger. I fought my way out.

Anger. I never should have had to fight my way out.

Anger. Betrayal.

Sadness. Betrayal.

Sadness. Harry's parents had been betrayed, too.

Sadness. It doesn't matter if I fight or not.

Anger. So I might as well fight anyway.

A moment of clarity. Fighting for what's right is what matters right now.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"I'll do it."

All three of their heads snapped toward me.

"You will?" Hermione asked.

I nodded before I could back down. "Cedric would have been the perfect person for this, b-but he can't. And maybe I can't either, but I... I want to try. B-But I'll need help, b-because I... I couldn't possibly do this all by myself-"

"I'll do it too," Harry said. He turned to look at me, his eyes clear and no longer angry. "A lot of it was a load of luck, but... a lot of it was because you were there, too. All of the training for the Triwizard, all of the patronus lessons. If you're doing it, I'll do it, too."

Ron and Hermione smiled reluctantly. I couldn't find one to offer, and neither could Harry. This fight meant much more to us than it did to anyone else in the whole wizarding world.

But we were in it together.

"So we fight?" I asked, looking around at the three of us.

"So we fight," Harry agreed.

But I will learn to fight, I will learn to fight
'Til this pendulum finds equilibrium

"Sorrow"
Sleeping At Last