All the things that fly by me
All the lives that I could lead
Maybe I was born for that
Or maybe I was first to last

"It Comes Back to You"
Imagine Dragons

LUCY:

The screams gave way to mournful howls. The February night was cold, but cloudless, the first night in weeks where the stars were visible. Were the werewolf a human, she would have enjoyed the sight, as the sprinkles of light seemed to stretch on forever. But the wolf didn't even notice the stars outside; its only concern was its own empty stomach.

The girl had rushed to the Shrieking Shack straight from Quidditch practice, no time to have dinner before the sun would set. She had assured her very-concerned brother she would be okay, but the wolf could not keep the promise. It scrounged the entire house looking for something, anything, finding nothing.

It launched itself at closet doors, cabinet doors, willing them to open, but they didn't budge. The wolf was destroying itself with every lunge, every pounce, every desperate claw at the doors, but it didn't care. It couldn't make itself care. Its only concern was filling the hole it felt inside, yet there was nothing. Nothing.

It howled in frustration, annoyance, anger. Hunger. The wolf eyed the wardrobe in the corner of the room, the only door it hadn't yet tried to bring down. It had a running start, snarling as it lunged at the door snout-first. The wardrobe wobbled back and forth a couple of times, but the doors did not give way. The wolf tried again and again, but the sun rose before success came. The screams began anew, and the girl who remained was battered and exhausted.

Life did not get much better after the full moon. Practices had gotten more and more intense in anticipation of the Hufflepuff match, and we practiced rain or shine. After one particularly brutal practice, Harry and I kept our heads bowed low against the rain as we hurried to the castle. Another weight now rested on our shoulders, and it wasn't just the weight of our soaking robes. Skye had announced that Professor Snape would be referee for the upcoming match against Hufflepuff.

Once in the common room, we immediately made a beeline for Hermione and Ron, who were engaged in an intense game of wizard's chess.

Ron noticed us first. "Don't talk to me for a moment, I need to concen- What's the matter with you, Harry? You look terrible."

"Snape is refereeing the next Quidditch match," he explained in a low voice.

Hermione's eyes bulged. "Don't play."

"Say you're ill," Ron said.

"Pretend to break your leg."

"Really break your leg."

Before I could speak, there was a commotion by the portrait hole. The room exploded with laughter, but I jumped to my feet and ran over to Neville, whose legs were locked together. Hermione was right behind me and performed the countercurse. I helped him to his feet and ushered him over to Ron and Harry.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

Neville wrapped his arms around his middle. His voice was little more than a whisper. "Malfoy. I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

Hermione was horrified. "Go to Professor McGonagall! Report him!"

Neville shook his head violently, rocking back and forth slightly. "I don't want to cause more trouble."

"It wouldn't be trouble, Neville," I said, reaching forward and rubbing my hand slowly up and down his arm, "honest. But it's okay if you'd rather not go to Professor McGonagall."

Ron piped up then. "You've got to stand up to him, Neville! He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

Neville looked like he was about to burst into tears. "There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that."

Harry extended a Chocolate Frog to Neville, which he accepted gratefully.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy, if not more. The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

"Harry's right," I agreed. "You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and there's nothing wrong with that. And hey, remember how Professor Snape said the same about me? Well, I'm still here, aren't I?"

"I haven't fought a troll," he mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate, "or been to the Forbidden Forest."

"You don't have to do either of those to be a Gryffindor. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, too. I'm sure one day, you'll have your chance to be brave in a big way, but until then, you still belong here, with us." I drew my wand. "Now, where did you say Malfoy was? I want to talk to him."

He smiled. "He was outside the library, but he's probably gone now. I think I'll head to bed. Thank you, though, Lucy, and Harry, for the frog. Do you want the card? You collect them, don't you?"

"Good night, Neville," we said as he headed up the stairs to his dormitory.

I tucked my wand away, pouting a bit. "I wanted to see how Draco looked with a sunburn in February. Might finally bring some color to his pale-as-a-ghost face."

Ron and Hermione laughed, but Harry's jaw dropped as he looked at the card.

He looked up at us excitedly. "I've found him, I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here! Listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel!'"

Hermione immediately gasped. "Stay there!" she whispered as she rushed up to our dormitory.

"What's gotten into her?" Ron muttered. Even as the words left his mouth, she was back with the massive book she'd been keeping under her bed since she returned from Christmas holiday.

Ron opened his mouth to ask another question, but she shushed him before flipping through the book as quickly as possible, muttering to herself. Harry and I exchanged an amused look as Ron grumbled something under his breath.

"I knew it!" Hermione whispered, eyes shining. "Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

I immediately joined her side and read the words for myself. "No way," I said under my breath. The boys seemed confused.

"What is the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked shyly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned the book to face them. "Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look, read that, there." She waited a couple of moments before speaking again. "See? The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"Anyone would want something that would make them immortal," Harry said, eyes wide. "No wonder Snape is after it." He gulped. "No wonder he wants me out of the way."

"Harry, I'll fill in for you," I said. "I can ask Skye to have me play Seeker instead of Chaser during practices. Harry, this stone isn't worth dying for."

"Wait, Lucy, you're on the team?" Ron asked.

I bit my lip, realizing my mistake. I nodded. "But you can't tell anyone else, it's a secret."

"Why do you think she always disappears the same time as Harry?" Hermione retorted.

"I just thought she was studying in the stands, like Fred and George said she does. You knew?"

"I didn't know, but I could guess easily." She reached over and twisted one of my still-wet braids around her finger for emphasis. "Haven't you noticed they've both come back soaking wet the past couple of weeks? You really don't pay attention to much, do you?"

"I'll play," Harry said, interrupting the two of them before their argument could progress any further. "If I don't, the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them; it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces."

"Just make sure we don't have to wipe you off the field, mate." Ron grinned uneasily. "It'll be hard to light Snape's robes on fire from where we'll be in the stands."

Hermione pursed her lips. "We'll need to make a new plan in case he tries to tamper with your broom again."

"And I'll still ask to spend more time playing Seeker. I've been meaning to ask since the last match when Skye almost called me in." I turned my sore shoulder in a couple of circles and grinned. "I wouldn't mind taking a break from lobbing Quaffles anyway."

"T-Today, we will be t-t-taking notes on how to t-t-treat werewolf b-b-b-bites," Professor Quirrell said. I immediately stiffened. I knew that werewolves were part of the DADA curriculum, but I still felt something like a rock settling in my stomach as the blackboard came to life with an animated sketch of a werewolf biting a human over and over. This particular day, I was sitting next to Harry and Hermione was sitting with Ron, which was probably for the best in hindsight, but I could still feel Hermione's stare on the back of my head, imagined though it may have been. I fought the urge to massage the scar; the bite mark had stretched slightly as I had grown, but beneath my more recent scars from September's full moon, I could still see the bite mark that stretched from my belly button to the small of my back, from my rib cage to my hip bone on the right side of my body.

I caught Hermione's eye as we reached into our bags for parchment and a quill.

"You okay?" she mouthed.

I nodded quickly and sat back up, willing myself to focus on the notes and nothing else. It felt something like floating, when I distanced myself from, well, myself. I could see my left hand writing the notes as my right hand held the parchment in place. I could hear Professor Quirrell's stuttering voice and the scratch of chalk on the board. I could feel the nervous bounce of Harry's leg up and down next to me, and the way the desk trembled slightly as he did it. But it was like I was on the outside looking in, rather than on the inside looking out.

As soon as the bell dismissed us to lunch, I glanced at Harry. I could tell the Snape situation was still weighing heavily on his mind, but I didn't want to push him. I turned away to pack up, wishing there was something I could do.

"I'm going to the library," Hermione said, looking intentionally at me before the boys. "To research what we talked about last night. Does anyone want to go with me?"

"I'll go," I offered, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'm not very hungry anyway."

"I am," Ron said. "But if you two want my help..."

"It's okay," Hermione said quickly. "You and Harry can go eat. Lucy and I can handle it."

Without waiting for a response, Hermione hurried out of the classroom.

"See you two later," I muttered with a wry grin before following her.

"Are you alright?" she whispered immediately.

I nodded. "I'm alright."

She didn't seem convinced, but she didn't ask any more questions. "I've been trying to think of spells that would be effective even if Professor Snape is on a broom, but the only one I've been able to think of is the Leg-Locker Curse because of what happened to poor Neville. As someone who rides a broom much more than I do, would that work?"

I nodded immediately. "Using your legs is essential to balancing. If his were locked together-" I giggled. "First of all, ouch, it would probably hurt him a lot more than it would me, considering he's not female."

"Oh dear, I hadn't thought of that." Hermione giggled. "Ouch."

"But aside from that, it would probably cause him to lose balance and maybe even fall off. Do you want to practice it right now, actually? I can get Cedric's broom, and I doubt anybody is there since it's lunch and it's raining."

"I don't want to hurt you," she said.

"I won't go very high off the ground," I assured her. "Come on, Hermione, now's the perfect time to try it without being seen. Let's go."

We hurried down to the Pitch, and I got the broom out of the broom closet quickly. As expected, the Pitch was deserted. I flew down to Hermione, who was looking around with wide eyes.

"I never thought I'd see it from this view."

"Pretty great, isn't it? Okay, I'll come close so you can try it without having to worry about distance." I gripped the broom handle tightly, making sure I was less than a meter above the ground. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Okay." Hermione took a deep breath and pointed her wand at me. "Locomotor mortis!"

I was launched off of my broom as my legs snapped together.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, rushing over to me.

I laughed and performed the countercurse. "Yeah, I am. I think this is going to work." I climbed back on my broom and backed up. "Let's try from more of a distance. Ready when you are!"

"Locomotor mortis!"

I was once again launched off of my broom, but I shot my hand out to grab it this time. I managed to hold onto it, my locked legs dangling. "Do you think he'd still be able to jinx Harry's broom like this?" I called.

"Only one way to find out. Try to cast a spell and keep it up even after you fall off. Finite incantem!"

I climbed back on my broom, this time drawing my wand. I pointed it at a spare Quaffle. "Wingardium leviosa!"

The red ball hovered above the ground.

"Locomotor mortis!"

I tried to keep the Quaffle aloft, I really did, but I had to choose between grabbing a hold of my broom or keeping the ball up, and I chose the broom. I hoped Snape would make the same decision.

Ron had his chance to practice on me a couple days later. It took him longer to master the spell than it took Hermione, but he succeeded eventually. We kept this all a secret from Harry, figuring he didn't need one more thing on his mind at the moment. For his part, he was keeping a secret from Hermione and Ron as well. On multiple occasions, we lingered in the stands after practice so he could copy my homework (and correct any mistakes I made) and I could work ahead without interruption. Hermione frowned upon any type of cheating, but with our practices getting longer by the week, we realized early on we couldn't keep up doing all of the work on our own.

The day of the match came soon. Very soon. Dare I say too soon.

"Now, don't forget, it's locomotor mortis," Hermione said softly as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know, don't nag," Ron snapped.

Hermione huffed and turned to me. "You have your Snitch?"

I nodded, opening my fist ever so slightly to show her. She nodded approvingly and turned back to the stadium.

My hand was beginning to ache with how tightly I was clutching the Snitch, but I simply couldn't relax. I had smiled for Cedric when I wished him good luck, and I had smiled for Harry when I had reassured him everything would be okay, but I hadn't saved any optimism for myself.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," Ron moaned.

"There they go," I said softly as the whistle blew.

"Ow!" Ron yelped.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Draco. My blood boiled at the sound of his voice, and I reckoned it was a good thing my wand was in my trunk instead of up my sleeve like Ron's and Hermione's. My desire to see his pinched, pale face sunburnt to a crisp was still unmet. I tuned him out and turned my attention to the game, going back and forth between watching Harry and Cedric, who circled high above the game.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want to bet? How about you, Weasley?"

Nobody replied as Snape awarded Hufflepuff a penalty for George hitting a Bludger at him.

But Malfoy couldn't be stopped. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team? It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money. You should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains!"

Neville turned around, echoing Harry's words. "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy!"

"You tell him, Neville," Ron said, not looking away.

"Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

"I'm warning you, Malfoy, one more word-"

"Look! Harry!" Hermione gasped.

He dove toward the ground, Cedric quickly streaking after him. I raised my hands to my cheeks, feeling my whole body shaking from the tension I felt.

"You're in luck, Weasley! Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!"

Ron dove over the seats, and I whirled around and grabbed his arm just before he could take a swing.

"Stop!" I shouted, forcing myself in between them and pushing them apart as best I could. Draco wound up for a punch, but Neville pulled Ron out of the way and back over the seats just in time. His fist connected with my cheek instead, but I managed to stand my ground. I glared at Draco, crossing my arms across my chest, smirking a bit as he winced and shook his hand. I guessed he had never actually thrown a punch before, and it hurt more than he expected. "Are you done making an arse of yourself yet, Draco?"

He smirked back, mocking my posture by crossing his own arms. "You should be thanking me, Diggory. You'll look prettier than ever with that bruise. Let's go, Crabbe, Goyle. Looks like Diggory's about to cry, and I don't think I could take the sight of her face getting any more hideous."

But before they could leave, Ron and Neville had pounced on them, fists flying.

"Stop! Stop!" I cried, but it was pointless. I turned on my heel and weaved my way through the crowd, racing down the stairs and running all the way to the shores of the Black Lake. Halfway there, I heard the stands erupt into cheers; I supposed someone had caught the Snitch. I hoped it was Harry --- sorry, Cedric.

I slowed to a walk as I approached the water. The sun was just beginning to set, a cool evening breeze swirling around me. I let myself reach up and touch my cheek for the first time. It was already starting to swell, but I didn't have my wand to attempt any kind of healing spell. I walked across some larger rocks until I found one I could perch myself on. I sat down heavily and pulled my knees to my chest, Draco's words looping through my head.

I obviously knew what he meant. Seeing myself without scars in the mirror had brought back to the surface the deep-rooted insecurity that had followed me my entire life. What he had said hurt more than the punch itself.

My tears evaporated as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. I sighed, realizing I should probably head up to the castle before it was completely dark. With any luck, everyone would already be at dinner and I could slip up to my dormitory unnoticed. I dried my face with my sleeve one last time, careful not to press too hard on my now-very-swollen cheek, and began the hike. I managed to get through the halls without seeing anyone, but when I crawled through the portrait hole, Fred and George were in the middle of the room, dumping their loot from the kitchen onto a large table. I tried to sneak past without them noticing, but they looked up just as I reached the door. I guessed we had won, seeing as a party was sure to begin soon.

"Hey, Cub!"

I carefully turned the unbruised half of my face to the twins and forced a smile that probably looked more like a wince. "Good match! Nice shot at Snape, George, the look on his face was priceless."

"Thanks, mate. I didn't like the way he was looking at Angelina. Why aren't you down at dinner?"

"I'm just tired," I lied.

"You can't miss the party! Everyone will be up here in just a couple of minutes!"

"I'll come down later. I still need to congratulate Harry. I haven't seen him yet," I said, backing closer to the door. I held out my hand, still clutching the Snitch. "I just need to put this away, since I didn't end up needing to use it today."

George narrowed his eyes. "Haven't seen him yet? We saw him talking to Ron and Hermione outside the Great Hall."

"Oh, I must have missed him." I shrugged and started to turn to the door, but I felt a hand on my shoulder, and before I could resist, Fred spun me around.

"Bloody hell, what happened to you?"

"Nothing," I said, holding my hand over my cheek. "It's nothing."

"Who hit you?" George asked, gently but firmly grabbing my wrist and lowering my hand.

"It's nothing," I repeated. "I can fix it."

"We know you can, but it never should have happened in the first place, Cub. Who hit you?"

"Draco Malfoy," I muttered.

"What? Why?"

I shook my head. "Not important. I'm going to go try to cover this up before the party starts. I promise, I will actually come down," I added quickly, noting their skeptical faces.

George sighed. "This conversation isn't over. I can't believe he hit you."

"It's not that big of a deal," I said quietly, looking down at my shoes. "You should see what he probably did to Ron. I'll be back."

With that, I disappeared up the stairs and tucked the Snitch into my trunk. I grabbed my wand and studied my reflection in the mirror. An angry black bruise had formed that spread across my whole left cheekbone. I pointed my wand to it. "Episkey."

Immediately, some of the pain disappeared, and some of the color faded. But Draco's bony knuckles had done their damage, so it was still moderately dark. I tried a couple more times to heal it away, but refused to disappear entirely. I was just about to dig through my chest for the small make-up set Lavender had gotten me for Christmas when Hermione walked in.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "I've been so wor-" I turned around, and her words died on her lips when she saw my face. She sighed. "At least you look better than Ron. Malfoy broke his nose, but Ron gave him a black eye. Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle at the same time, I heard, but I didn't actually realize anything had happened until after Harry caught the Snitch and Neville was knocked out. Madam Pomfrey said he'll be okay, though, don't worry, and she fixed Ron's nose easily."

"I told Fred and George I'd head down to the party, but I..." I crossed the room and lowered myself onto my bed, fighting tears. "I can't get the bruise to go away." I sighed. "You know what. I'm not going to worry about it. Draco wants me to be embarrassed. I can't give him that satisfaction! I'm going to go enjoy this party!"

I jumped up and ran down the stairs, leaving a confused Hermione in my wake. I spotted George by the drink table, so I made my way over, smiling and reaching for a glass of butterbeer.

"Looking better, Lu," George shouted over the music.

"Thanks! I tried! Where's Fred?"

"Probably flirting his face off with Angelina."

I nearly spat out the massive sip of butterbeer I had just taken, but I managed to swallow it, though it burned my throat on the way down. "Angelina? Our Angelina?"

"Yeah, he's decided he fancies her. Hasn't left her alone the past three weeks."

"Why aren't you flirting your face off with someone?" I took another sip. Butterbeer had never tasted so good. I supposed it was the excitement of the party or the adrenaline of the fight or the immense relief of Harry's survival of the match, or perhaps all three.

He shrugged. "Fred's always been the flirt. I prefer to let my naturally good looks do the talking. I am the handsomer twin, after all."

I rolled my eyes. "You're identical!"

"Says the only person who can consistently tell us apart," he teased. "Ah, here comes my dearest brother now. No Angelina, he must have scared the poor girl away."

"Are you going to tell me what actually happened to you now?" Fred asked.

"You should have seen it!" Ron rushed over just behind Fred, Harry tagging along behind him. "She didn't even flinch! She just crossed her arms and asked him if he was done making an arse of himself yet!" Hermione was right; I did look better than Ron. His white shirt had massive bloodstains all down the front, but he didn't seem to mind. Quite frankly, it might have been the happiest I'd ever seen him.

"That's our Cub!" Fred cheered, pumping a fist in the air. "She'll be hexing all of the bullies left and right by next year, mark my words."

I shook my head, smiling nonetheless. "I didn't even have my wand. I do still want to practice a sunburn jinx on him, though."

"As long as it's not on my handsome face," Fred said, reaching for a glass of butterbeer and taking a sip. His eyes widened. "Bloody hell, someone spiked this!"

All eyes immediately went to the half-empty glass in my hand. I blushed. "I thought it tasted better than usual."

George immediately snatched it out of my grasp and took a sip to see for himself. "Yeah, there's definitely some firewhisky in there. Going to have to cut you off, Cub."

"You're underage, too!" I protested.

"Look at me," he said, gesturing to his sturdy frame. He reached forward and patted me on the head to emphasize the fact I didn't even reach his shoulders. "I can handle a little firewhisky. You're small. Seems like it's already taking effect, too."

I wrinkled my nose. "Fine. But I can still kick your arse in a broom race."

Everyone laughed at that. Harry turned to me, his face serious. "Can I talk to you for a second, Lucy?"

I nodded, and we slipped out of the common room.

"I already told Ron and Hermione this," he whispered as we walked down the stairs, "but since you were... wait, where were you? Neither of them knew."

"Trying to cover up my bruise," I muttered. "Obviously it didn't completely work, but it looks better than it did at first. What did you tell them?"

"In here." We ducked into an unused classroom and shut the door behind us. "I was putting my broom away when I saw Snape heading toward the Forbidden Forest, so I followed him and overheard his conversation with Professor Quirrell. He asked if he knew how to get past the three-headed dog, and then said something about how Quirrell didn't want Snape for an enemy, then he told him to consider where his loyalties lie and left. I think the safety of the Stone depends on Quirrell's ability to stand up to Snape."

"Meaning it's in grave danger?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid so."

I bit my lip. George was right; the firewhisky was already taking effect. It was hard to think straight. "So what are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know either." I wrapped my arms around my torso and stared at the ground. "I think now all that's left to do is protect each other, and try to protect Quirrell." I looked at him shyly. "Congratulations on the win today, Harry. You were under a lot of pressure. I can't imagine how nervous you must have been."

He smiled. "Thanks, Lucy. Must have been hard to say that to the person who beat your brother."

I smiled a bit back at him. "I wished Cedric luck this morning, but something tells me Gryffindor throws better victory parties anyway."

Harry laughed aloud at this. "Thanks to the twins. Speaking of, want to head back?"

"I think I'm going to pay Neville a visit in the Hospital Wing, actually. Want to come with me?"

"Sure, that's a good idea."

When we arrived, he was sitting up and stroking Trevor, who was snuggled comfortably in his lap.

"Hi, Neville," Harry said, approaching his bedside. "How are you?"

"I'm alright. How are you, Lucy?"

"Oh, this? It doesn't hurt anymore. I'm just glad you're okay."

"I-I meant... how are you with what he said? You do know that's part of why we jumped at him again, right?"

I felt an uncomfortable heat crawl up my neck to my face. "I know. It's not worth it, honestly."

"What did he say?" Harry asked. "Ron didn't say why he attacked Malfoy, but I just assumed it was something about his family."

"That's what started it," I said quickly, "but it doesn't really matter. Neville, remember what I said about having your chance to be brave in a big way? Well, I think today was your chance. And you definitely proved yourself to be worthy of this red tie."

He grinned from ear to ear. Trevor croaked his agreement, and we all burst out laughing.