After dinner that night, I decided to take the long way back to the common room. I had let my guard down and let Hermione see my vulnerability, but for her safety, I couldn't let it happen again. So instead, I wandered the halls by myself, eventually finding my way out to the courtyard.

A few of the clouds from the afternoon had dissipated, leaving a couple of patches of stars. I sat with my back to the fountain and let my mind wander.

My parents (for obvious reasons) were incredibly paranoid, or, as they preferred to phrase it, safety-oriented. They always feared the darkness --- every corner of our home was lit with the brightest candles imaginable. Cedric and I were allowed outside only for very specific reasons, and never after sunset or before sunrise.

We were allowed to de-gnome the yard as necessary, which we both enjoyed. We were also allowed to help Mum with her gardening work; Cedric was always the best in his year in Herbology, and Professor Sprout had already told me she suspected that I shared the same green thumb.

But our favorite activity had always, always, always been flying. Cedric asked for his first broom when he was six, and by the time I was six, I was begging for one too. Our parents, I suppose, figured that no werewolves could bite us when we were flying, so we spent hours upon hours in the sky at a time. We would toss Quaffles back and forth, throw Every-Flavor Beans into the air for the other to catch, and even attempt the same Quidditch maneuvers we watched in the pictures of Seeker Weekly. I still had the letter in my trunk I received from Cedric after he successfully used a Sloth Grip Roll in a match for the first time; that had always been his favorite maneuver to try.

It had been only a week since I had last flown, but the sky above called me louder and louder every passing hour. I longed to shoot up into the clouds, and fly right through one of the holes where the stars shone through. I wanted to look at the ground and not be afraid of falling. I wanted to look up and see nothing but stars forever. I wanted to stare at the moon until I forgot who I was, what I was.

For me, the feeling of flying had been hard to explain. It came more naturally to anything else, as if my very soul were tethered to the sky, and each second spent apart strained everything within me. I was feeling the strain that night; the stone pillars around me seemed awfully reminiscent of a cage. I wanted to fly, but I was confined. First years weren't allowed their own brooms anyway.

I was jerked from my reverie by a pair of voices.

"She wouldn't stop talking about how excited she was to be coming back to learn more about the potions she'd need at St. Mungo's, but I just want her to stay away. As soon as I break free of her shiny, perfect precedent, she always comes back and overshadows me again. I mean, what potions does she need to learn here anyway she couldn't learn anywhere else? Literally anywhere else?"

"I don't know, Bea, but I'm sure there's a reason she's coming here. Maybe wolfsbane? I don't think we learn that, even at the N.E.W.T. level." Cedric was talking to Beatrice Haywood. And they were coming closer.

"Why would she need that anyway?" she spat in response. "And why would she learn that here of all places? Dumbledore's smart. He surely knows having a werewolf at Hogwarts would be madness. They're dangerous monsters that can't be trusted. If I found out there was a werewolf here, I might just kill whoever it is on sight and make it look like an accident."

Suddenly, I wasn't feeling well. I crept through the shadows to the opposite side of the courtyard from them and darted back into the castle. While earlier in the afternoon, I was lucky enough to find an empty common room because it was lunchtime, I was not so fortunate on the first Friday night of the semester. Once through the portrait hole, I was met with chaos. A massive game of Exploding Snap was taking place on one side of the room, while the other side of the room was devoted to what appeared to be a wizard's chess tournament. In the center of the room, a few students were flipping through magazines or reading letters from home, but even as I walked in, most of the people in the middle had decided that it was too noisy and started dispersing toward the dormitories.

Though I had been temporarily distracted by the wildness I had seen in the common room, as soon as I was alone in the shower, I couldn't help but cry for the second time that day.

Monster. Everyone's favorite word for me.

Monster. On September 23, I would become one.

Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster.

I would sit somewhere far away from the school, watching the sun sink lower and lower on the horizon. The twilight breeze would be cool on my skin, my bare human skin. Once the last golden rays of the sun would disappear, I would close my eyes and wait. Wait to become aware of myself again. Wait to once again feel dawn's dew beneath me and the warmth of the first light of morning above me. Wait to recall everything I had done in the middle of the night.

While I had no control over what I did in werewolf form, I could always remember every detail. I was allowed to watch the --- what had Hermione called the Muggle moving pictures? --- "movie" every morning in the form of scattered flashbacks, but it was as if I had a camera attached to my snout, capturing every detail of the scene before me without any sense of consciousness or awareness of self. It was frightening, to see what I had done. What I was capable of doing.

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

Me.

I was a monster. My new goal was simple: keep everyone out and let no one in. I expected it would be easy. Cedric had stopped chasing me already. Next easiest would be Harry and Ron. Hardest would be Hermione. The only thing I needed to figure out was how to isolate myself without hurting them. But I knew where to start.

The next morning, I was the first person awake in my room, which was perfect.

As quietly as I could, I changed out of my pajamas into my robes, grabbed my bookbag, and slipped from the room.

I had decided that I needed a place where I could be completely alone. To study. To exist. In perfect solitude, where I couldn't hurt anyone. Where no one would find me. I would tell Hermione that I found I studied better by myself but that I'd still help her if she needed it (knowing full well she didn't need help). It seemed gentle and kind while also firmly distancing myself. I knew she'd understand the need to study as effectively as possible, because studying was all she ever did.

I climbed through the portrait hole and went down flight after flight of stairs until I was outdoors. I knew that, somewhere in the fog, the Quidditch Pitch was to the west and the Black Lake was to the south. I decided to head toward the Quidditch Pitch.

It was about a ten-minute walk, having only a vague sense of where I was going. But suddenly, the majestic stadium stood before me. I felt rather small, but very excited nonetheless. I walked with a renewed sense of vigor as I looked for a staircase or a ladder or anything, anything that would allow me access to the stadium I had wanted to play in my entire life. I knew that first-years never made the Quidditch teams, but that didn't mean I couldn't dream about the day I'd finally get to play, even if I wore maroon and gold instead of black and yellow. I'd still proudly wear the Diggory name on my back.

When I found a spiral staircase that led to the stands, it took all of my willpower not to sprint straight up to the top. I took them two at a time, though, and took a second at the top to gaze fondly at the beautiful pitch. The grass below was lush and green, and even though the fog obscured the commentary box from view, I could only imagine how spectacular it must be to watch a Quidditch match from there. I found myself wondering if they already had a commentator this year. I wouldn't mind commentating while I waited for a spot on the Gryffindor team to open up.

I eventually snapped from my daze and found a spot to sit and spread out my parchment to start on Professor Snape's essay. As I wrote, the fog above dispersed, and even a couple of rays of sun shone through. But still no one came to the pitch, and for that I was thankful. I finished my essay and moved onto the reading for Charms. I became so engrossed in the book I read three chapters ahead, and I was about to turn to a fourth when someone called my name.

I snapped the book shut and looked around. Who had found me?

"Up here!"

I squinted against the brilliant blue sky and saw my brother flying towards me. He brought his broom to a stop on the other side of the wall.

"Hey, I've been looking everywhere for you. Why weren't you at breakfast?"

I opened my mouth to tell a lie about how I wasn't hungry, but the truth escaped my lips instead. "I wanted to find a place to study in isolation without anyone following me."

His brow wrinkled in concern. "Why?"

"Why? Why?! Why wouldn't I, Cedric?"

He reeled a bit. I couldn't remember the last time I had snapped at him. I was about to apologize, but he had quickly regained his composure. "It's more fun to study with other people, Lu, not to mention that it's a good way to make friends."

I tried to rein in my emotion, but bitterness and pain dripped from my next words. "Not even a Gryffindor would be brave enough to be friends with a monster like me."

"Oh," he said, his face softening in sudden understanding, "you heard her."

"Yeah. I did. Her, and Professor Snape, and-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He brought his broom closer to the wall and dismounted, sitting next to me on the bench. "I know I said I wouldn't follow you, and I'm sorry that I went back on my word. But if I let you take my broom for a ride around the castle, will you please talk to me?"

I slowly moved my charms book from my lap to the bench beside me. "Take your broom? All the way around the castle? As in, fly your broom?"

He smiled. "I know how much you must miss it. I heard first-year Gryffindors don't start flying lessons until this Thursday."

I stared at his broom, his twelfth birthday present. It was a beauty of a broom, it really was. A Cleansweep 7, the first Cleansweep released in thirty-five years. The only broom that was better was the brand-new Nimbus 2000. "I thought first-years couldn't have their own brooms," I managed to say.

"It's not yours, it's mine, and I'm lending it to you. C'mon, I know you can't say no. A lap around the castle in exchange for an honest conversation?"

I looked away from the broom and into his eyes. "You mean it?"

"I can't believe you're not in the air yet!" he laughed, practically shoving the broom into my hands. "Go!"

I beamed and pulled my hood over my head to avoid being recognized before mounting the broom quickly and shooting straight into the sky with a "Yippee!" Once in the sky, I saw other students on brooms, some talking to friends, others tossing Quaffles back and forth, still others reading textbooks. I zipped toward the castle, turning a few loops just because I could.

I spotted the flaming red hair from a distance --- the Weasley twins had taken to the skies as well. They seemed to be deep in conversation, even though one of them was hanging upside with his knees locked around the shaft of the broom and the other was turning small figure-eights. I grinned as I headed them, and sped up as much as I dared, squeezing perfectly in between them before shooting straight up into the sky.

"Who the bloody hell was that?" I heard one of them wonder aloud. I smiled before turning another loop and heading back toward the Quidditch Pitch, this time soaring far over their heads.

Cedric smiled at me as I dismounted. "Feeling better?"

I smiled back and nodded. "So much better. Thank you."

"Of course, Lu."

I sat back down beside him and sighed. "Time to keep my end of the bargain, I suppose. But first, can I ask what made you change your mind about me?"

"That's a good question, but it has a long answer. Is that okay?"

"Of course, that's fine. I promised you an honest conversation."

"Okay. Well, essentially, I changed my mind last night after I realized how different you and Bea are, even though I thought you were very similar at first. I suppose I should start at the beginning. The year before my first year, Beatrice was the victim of a curse that trapped her in a painting for nearly an entire school year."

I gasped. "That's horrible!"

He nodded. "Not only did it traumatize her, but it traumatized her older sister, Penny, even more. They were both Hufflepuffs, but, well, they had very different ways of moving on from the situation. Penny wanted to do everything possible to protect Beatrice, to the point of smothering her, but Beatrice wanted to do everything possible to protect herself by herself, to the point of completely isolating herself from her sister and trying to solve her own problems with nothing but anger and fear and determination. Things are better now that more time has passed and they've both had space, but based on what I'm guessing you heard last night, you know their relationship's still very complicated."

I nodded. "For the record, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, honest. I was in the courtyard already, looking at the stars, when you came out."

"I trust you. So you heard what she said about werewolves being monsters?"

I nodded again, more slowly.

"Did you hear my response?"

"No," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I ran away after she said she'd kill a werewolf on sight and make it look like an accident."

At this, Cedric wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. "You know I'd never let that happen to you, right?"

I nodded, unable to speak.

"Good." I remained with my head against his shoulder as he talked. "By the end of the conversation, I convinced Beatrice that the wolfsbane potion would keep the school safe. Beatrice only said what she did because she still struggles with a lot of fear, most of it irrational. She takes her emotion out on other people and even other things sometimes. She keeps everything inside to try to protect herself, and when she can't take it anymore, it bursts out of her in a way she can't always control. Before we came out to the courtyard, I had to repair a flowerpot in our common room that she blasted with a knockback jinx."

"Really?" I asked with a small giggle.

"Oh yeah, it was probably in two hundred pieces. I fixed it, though. But to return to my main point, you're not like that, Lucy. I know you're afraid, and you have every right to be. But your heart is still so soft. You still care so much about others, which is why you're out here in the first place, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I said softly. "I don't want to hurt anyone. The only way to guarantee that is if I'm alone."

"But you haven't hurt me, and we've been siblings for a while now."

I almost laughed. "You're different," I mumbled. "You're family. You're obligated to be nice to me."

"I'm not obligated, Lucy, I choose to love you the way I do. And I know that if you let people in, they'd choose to love you too. I chose to follow you, because I believed it was best for you to know I still cared. Beatrice hates it when people try to follow her because she's afraid of them hurting her. She'd much rather go to them when she wants, the way she came to me last night, and be alone the rest of the time. But I think you hate being alone because that's what you have to do once a month, and you need people to follow you because you're afraid of hurting them if you seek them out."

I blinked, taking a moment to absorb his words. "Wow. You're right. How did you just summarize me so perfectly? You're not even the Sorting Hat, but you still read my mind."

Cedric laughed. "I'm your brother, hopefully I've gotten good at knowing you by now."

"Dare I say too good," I giggled, raising my head from his shoulder so I could look at him again. "Thank you for following me, Cedric."

"Of course, Lucy. Are you feeling any better?"

I nodded. "I'm glad Beatrice won't try to kill me."

"Not on my watch. I promise."

"That's good."

"I know it'll take some time to process, but will you please think about what I said and consider letting people in? I know that there are so many people here who would love you, just as you are."

"Werewolf and all?"

"Werewolf and all. Because you're enough just as you are."

"Gryffindor and all?"

He laughed. "Gryffindor and all. But don't expect me to go easy on you when we face off in Quidditch, you hear?"

"Go easy on me? Cedric, I'm insulted. I can fly circles around you even when you're trying your hardest.

He laughed again. "I can't argue with that. Maybe I should be asking you to go easy on me."

I smirked. "Never."

The weather on the day of our first flying lesson was perfect. A crisp autumn breeze was on the air, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, I couldn't stop smiling. I trembled with excitement, anxious to feel a broom in my hands again, even if the school brooms were really as awful as Fred had told me they were. (He and George hadn't figured out yet that it had been me in Saturday; I heard them asking around the Gryffindor common room all day Saturday and Sunday if anybody knew the identity of the flyer, but they didn't think to ask a first year.)

I planted myself between Harry and Hermione for the lesson. Neither had ever been on a broom before, and I wanted to help however I could. I wanted them to love flying as much as I did.

When Madam Hooch told us to hold our hands out over our brooms and command them up into our hands, mine obeyed instantly, as did Harry's. We shared a grin before I turned to help Hermione, who managed to coax her broom up after a few more tries.

"Don't be afraid," I whispered. "The broom knows what to do, maybe even better than you do. Trust it."

She took a deep breath. "Okay."

Madam Hooch then explained how to mount the broom. I felt as though I'd burst from anticipation, it felt like an eternity before she said we'd be allowed to take off. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle, mind you. Three... two..."

Neville shot into the sky, wobbling back and forth wildly. I got the impression he hadn't meant to do that.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville continued to rise higher and higher and higher. He glanced toward the ground, and fell off the broom, landing with a sickening crack.

Madam Hooch rushed toward him as the rest of us watched in stunned silence. I found myself wondering if I would have been able to save him if I had tried, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Madam Hooch?" I called. "Would you like me to catch Neville's broom?"

She looked my way after helping Neville to his feet. "That would be wonderful, Miss Diggory, thank you. None of the rest of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear, let's go."

I shot up into the sky, chasing the runaway broom. It climbed higher and higher, thoroughly confused without its rider. Brooms were far from sentient, mind you, but their magic needed to be channeled by a responsible rider. Since Neville had fallen off, it just kept the same path he had established before falling off. That was --- up.

I slowly began to catch up to the broom. Below me, the voices of my classmates grew fainter and fainter. I put on a burst of speed and extended my hand, firmly wrapping my fingers around the wooden shaft and pulling it down until it was securely wedged beneath my arm.

When I turned around to head back to the ground, though, it became apparent I had missed something. Harry and Draco were flying, too, glaring daggers at each other.

"Give it here, or I'll knock you off that broom!" Harry shouted.

"Oh, yeah? Try it then!"

And try Harry did. He leaned forward on the broom and shot toward Draco, and would have bowled him over entirely if Draco hadn't moved out of the way at the last possible second. Harry remained unfazed and whipped his broom around to face Draco. I was awestruck. Harry was a natural on a broom.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here, Malfoy," Harry called. "Now give me Neville's Remembrall."

"Catch it if you can!" Draco yelled, chucking it as hard as he could and starting to fly back to the ground. Harry, however, streaked after the small glass ball, catching it when he was no more than a meter off the ground and tumbling to the ground from there, the Remembrall remarkably intact. I couldn't believe my eyes.

I saw Professor McGonagall in the distance, however, and my heart sank for Harry when she barked his name. I snapped out of my daze and started descending, Neville's broom still firmly tucked under my arm. Professor McGonagall and Harry left the training grounds in a hurry, and I reached the ground shortly thereafter. The students were abuzz.

"I sure hope Professor McGonagall doesn't murder Harry, because that was some of the best flying I've seen in my life," a Slytherin boy said, looking just as stunned and impressed as the rest of us.

"What about mine?" Draco snapped, his pale face growing unusually red.

"Oh, yours was good, too," the boy replied, "but Harry's? I mean, has he even been on a broom before?"

"No, never," I replied. "That was incredible."

Before another comment could leave Draco's mouth, the boy turned to me with a curious look. "You're that girl that stood up to Snape, aren't you?"

Now it was my turn to turn red as I nodded.

The boy smiled. It was a far kinder smile than I was expecting to see on a Slytherin. "Nice. Name's Archie. Yours?"

"Lucy," I replied.

Madam Hooch reappeared then, looking rather flustered still. When she saw two unattended brooms instead of just one, her eyes flickered. "Did I lose another student?"

"Harry Potter broke your rules, Madam Hooch," Draco piped up, morphing his face into a mask of perfect innocence. "Don't worry, though, Professor McGonagall marched him away. I'm sure she'll sort him out."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. No matter, the lesson will continue. Everyone, please get back on your brooms. We will try this again."

For the rest of the lesson, my concern for Harry faded (my concerns as a whole faded, really) as I zipped through the skies with the other experienced flyers while Madam Hooch worked one-on-one with the Muggle-borns. As I found out at dinner, I had no reason to worry anyway.

Seeker tryouts wouldn't be happening after all. Harry was the youngest Quidditch player in one hundred years.

Well, allow me to rephrase. I had no reason to worry about that. Hermione burst into our dormitory after dinner, horrifically bent out of shape.

"After you talked to Harry and went to go talk to Percy, that foul Malfoy challenged Harry to a wizard's duel! And he agreed! He's going to get Gryffindor in so much trouble! He got off easy with breaking the flying rule earlier, but if he gets caught tonight, he's going to lose us the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about switching spells! We have to stop them!" She never ceased to amaze me with how quickly she could talk.

"Slow down," I said calmly. "It'll be alright. Neither of them know any spells that could cause serious damage, and it might actually help them get along better in the future to release some tension now."

"By dueling?"

"Emphasis on might." I grinned, trying to diffuse her anger. "Whatever points they may lose, I know you can gain back. I can help, too. Remember how Professor Sprout gave me points on Monday?"

She nodded. "You're right. But I'm still going to stop them. The duel is taking place at midnight, and I intend to stay in the common room until they try to leave. Do you want to wait with me?"

I found myself in a difficult spot. To refuse her would put some distance between us, distance that might protect her. At the same time, Cedric's voice lingered in the back of my mind. If I accepted her offer, we'd be one step closer to true friends.

I was too much of a coward to commit to either idea. "I'm kind of tired," I said, "but you can come wake me up at midnight if you'd like. I might be able to help talk them out of it. Is that alright?"

She nodded. "That's more than alright with me. You don't want to be sleepy in Potions tomorrow."

"I suppose I should warn you now that I'm a deep sleeper."

"It's okay, I guessed that already. You're that only roommate that doesn't complain about my showers."

"What do you mean?"

"I shower at sunrise every day, but the other girls act like it's the middle of the night! A shower first thing really is the best way to start your day, you know, and I've been waking at sunrise for as long as I can remember. I try to be quiet, of course, but everyone else always wakes up."

I giggled. "I sleep like a baby when I'm not suffering from insomnia."

And sleep like a baby I did. Hermione said she had been shaking me for two minutes before I finally stirred.

"Is it midnight?" I asked sleepily.

"No. There was no duel. It was a trick. Filch was waiting there, and while we were running away, we ran into the forbidden corridor."

I was suddenly wide awake. I sat up in bed. "What was in there?"

"A dog with three heads guarded a trap door. It was too dark to see much else. We're lucky we escaped alive."

"I'm glad you did." I reached forward and placed a hand on hers. "Are you alright? Your hands are shaking."

"I'm alive," she managed. "I'm never speaking to Harry or Ron ever again."

It was too late for a discussion about that. "How about you get some sleep?" I asked. "You'll feel better in the morning."

"I hope so," she replied, seeming thoroughly unconvinced. "I'm sorry I didn't come to wake you. They came down at 11:30 and I had to follow them."

"I completely understand." Even more so than that, I felt significantly (selfishly) relieved to have not been there. "Get some sleep, Hermione. You need it."

"Alright," she relented. "Good night, Lucy."

"Good night, Hermione."

I laid awake a couple minutes longer, reflecting. I hoped I had actually helped her feel better, but the fact that she had come to me in her distress was touching. I might have helped someone instead of hurting them. And it felt fantastic. I felt so good I had forgotten about the three-headed dog, even, by the time I fell back asleep.