Separation (Familia Ante Omnia - Book Two, Part Four) by SaraJany
Summary: Saturnine Snape knew that becoming Hogwarts’ new Defence Against the Dark Arts’ professor without revealing her identity would be a challenge.

When the headmaster tricks her into taking on the hunt for the Horcruxes as well, she realises that evading her brother’s suspicion will not be the most arduous task she’ll have to perform. It’s a good thing she has a lupine friend she can count on for help.

Harry’s sixth year, as seen through the eyes of Saturnine. And an exploration of the witch’s feelings through the prism of her relationship with Harry, Severus, and Remus.
Categories: Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Remus
Snape Flavour: Canon Snape
Genres: Drama, Family, General
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption
Takes Place: 6th Year
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: Familia Ante Omnia
Chapters: 11 Completed: Yes Word count: 28329 Read: 2028 Published: 16 Apr 2022 Updated: 29 Apr 2022
Story Notes:

Written by popular demand, here’s a short companion piece to Book Two: “Scission”.

Told from Saturnine’s POV, this tale reveals more about what she was up to that year. This story also features Remus more prominently. Everybody’s favourite werewolf played a substantial role in Saturnine’s past, and I seized the opportunity to explore their friendship more deeply.

A word of caution: though this story can be regarded as the fourth part of Book Two, I highly recommend reading it after the entire Familia Ante Omnia series. “Separation” focuses heavily on Saturnine, and it divulges details about her past and major plot twists/surprises from Book Three and Four.

1. Meeting the Staff by SaraJany

2. An Old Friend Returns by SaraJany

3. The Welcoming Feast by SaraJany

4. Walking a Tightrope by SaraJany

5. A Mother’s Wrath by SaraJany

6. The Loss of Innocence by SaraJany

7. Into the Snake's Lair by SaraJany

8. Questions by SaraJany

9. Distractions by SaraJany

10. Cornelius Fudge’s Magic Carpet by SaraJany

11. The Harsh Realities of Life by SaraJany

Meeting the Staff by SaraJany

When the morning sun first grazed her cheek, Saturnine Eileen Snape sat up with a groan. Her back was stiff, and her shoulders tense. Looking at the crumpled blankets pooled around her legs, it was easy to understand why. She wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep but knew it couldn’t have been more than two or three hours ago. And it had not been a restful sleep.

Sitting up, she moved to the small adjoining bathroom. Like every other part of her new accommodation, it was as tiny as it was practical. On one side, there was a porcelain sink with a small hanging cabinet with mirrored doors. On the other, a toilet and a square-shaped shower cubicle completed the set.

Saturnine had always suspected Hogwarts teachers had modest accommodations, but she had hoped for a little more space for herself. She brushed her teeth quickly, then removed her clothes and stepped into the shower. Well, at least the rent is free, she thought as the first drops cascaded down her back. The water was pleasantly warm and did much to loosen her taut muscles.

Finishing up, she wondered at how this had happened. How could life have taken such a turn? Earlier that year, she had been desperately searching for a way out of the Aurors’ clutches. But now she posed as Hogwarts’ new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—all so that she could protect one Harry Potter from the looming fate that awaited him. Lily’s son, the prophesied hero of the Wizarding World. The Boy Who Lived and was destined to defeat Lord Voldemort one day. A child whom she had cared for and grown to love in the two months they had spent together in Professor Dumbledore’s Cornish safe house.

“For Harry,” she said aloud as she tiptoed out of the shower, waving a hand up and down her side. At her command, the water drops that pearled on her naked skin lifted and returned to the shower stall. They went willingly, happy to do as directed. Saturnine applied slightly more focus to her magic and similarly dried her dark-brown hair.

She hadn’t seen Harry since she had taken him to the Weasleys three days prior. It was barely more than seventy-two hours ago, but she missed him as if it had been a month. She did all this for him, she reminded herself. Regardless of her issues with the mission, she had agreed to take on this role because of him. Because the boy needed her, and she needed to know that he was safe. So, she got to work.

Standing before the mirrored cabinet, Saturnine retrieved her hairbrush and started taming her long tangled locks. It took no time at all to style them in a tight chignon, held securely with a thick elastic band. The makeup was a different business. Although she’d practised daily for a week now, it still took over half an hour to apply the various layers of foundation and powder—in dark and light shades of brown—to alter her traits beyond recognition. Once satisfied, she retrieved the small plastic box containing the unassuming brown-coloured lenses to hide her striking azure-blue gaze. She dressed quickly, slipping into a pair of tight black denim trousers and a long-sleeved, cerulean pussy-bow blouse.

“For Harry,” she said again as she inspected herself in the mirror. A near-stranger gazed back at her.

The carefully crafted persona Saturnine had created, Leen Nine, a demure French professor, would be put to the test today. She had, so far, kept to herself—taking possession of her private quarters alone and readying her classroom on her own. But she had yet to venture into the rest of the castle or eat in the Great Hall with the other teachers. Many had, like her, arrived before the students to prepare for the start of term.

The staff meeting she was now on her way to was mandatory, and despite her resolve, Saturnine felt jittery. Several teachers here had known her when she was younger. She had sat, front row, in Professors McGonagall and Flitwick’s classes for seven years. And Severus Snape—well, the resident Potions Master had known her for far longer than that; he’d known her all her life.

Stepping onto the Grand Staircase, she wondered at the folly of it all. Her own brother, for Merlin’s sake. She was sure he would see through her disguise in a heartbeat, and then—

Saturnine shuddered at the thought as the stairs lurched to the left. Her stomach followed with some difficulty, and she brought a hand up to her mouth, feeling thankful that she had had nothing to eat yet. What would happen if Severus recognised her? she wondered. She dreaded to think how he would react. It had been fifteen years since he had last seen her—fifteen years since they had talked. It was time enough to seal old wounds and forget. But it was also enough time for them to fester and grow into the most nefarious beasts. So, which would it be?

“Professor Nine, I presume,” a middle-aged witch said as she joined her on the stairs. The plump, blond-haired woman had come in from the second-floor corridor. She introduced herself. “Bathsheda Babbling. I teach the Study of Ancient Runes.”

It took Saturnine a second or two to push the thoughts of her brother to the back of her mind and focus on the moment. She reached out a hesitant hand to grip the one Professor Babbling held out to her. “Leen Nine,” she said, twisting the consonants of her first name so that it sounded like there was an additional ‘e’ at the end. Having decided that her made-up character had a British father and French mother, she pronounced her family name how an English speaker would. “Enchantée,” she added, knowing the other woman would most likely be accustomed to that foreign word.

“Ooh,” cooed Professor Babbling. “Are you French? J’adore la France!” she exclaimed, badly mangling the words.

They made their way to the ground floor together, Professor Babbling showering her new colleague with a downpour of trivial questions. By the time the two women made it to the meeting, Saturnine had her act all warmed up, down to the uneasy mannerisms and twitches. She was proud of the nervous tick she had come up with: to push her fake prescription glasses back up her nose while talking to people. It was an ingenious way to keep them from staring at her facial traits for too long. The distracting, sparkling earrings she wore served the same purpose.

When they entered the staffroom, where Saturnine had never been in all her time as a student, Bathsheda Babbling quickly introduced her to everyone. The dark-haired witch was thankful to the Ancient Rune professor for that; it saved her from having to do it herself. Instead, she shook a hand or two, looking demure throughout. It wasn’t easy to pull off, given that she was nearly six feet tall. But the hunched shoulders, nervous twisting fingers, and fleeting gaze added a lot of credibility to her act.

The staffroom was unassuming. A little smaller than a standard classroom, it was furnished in the same vein, with four small tables and an assortment of mismatched chairs. Large windows decorated the wall opposite the door, letting in the morning sun and offering the visitors a nice view of the greenhouses. On the right-hand side of the room, several cabinets seemed to be filled to the brim with parchments and books, while a large notice board took up most of the opposing wall. It was covered in an assortment of flyers and notices—most of them outdated. Several trays containing various drinks and pastries had been left on the tables by the house-elves, and Saturnine felt her stomach rumble.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Professor,” Filius Flitwick said from the stool he had stepped on to be tall enough to shake her hand.

“Likewise,” she replied in barely a murmur. The short, half-goblin Charms teacher caught her gaze, and she held her breath. He smiled, released her hand, and introduced himself. Saturnine breathed a little easier, knowing he hadn’t recognised her.

She had similar luck with Professor McGonagall moments later. The Scottish Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House was much like Saturnine remembered. There were maybe a couple more lines to her face, but the rigour with which she held herself was eerily familiar. The way she scolded Saturnine for her absence of the past three days was familiar, too.

“I apologise,” she said, hunching forward a little more. “I have had a hard time understanding what the previous teachers did with the class, you see. There were few notes left.” She paused and swallowed thickly before gazing at her black ankle-high boots. “It took me more time than I had expected to prepare the syllabus,” she admitted, nervously pushing her glasses back up her nose. She was forced to raise her chin so they wouldn’t slide back down. “I’m afraid it has taken all my time, Professor McGonagall.”

Her lies must have been convincing, for the Scot’s expression softened at once. Next to her, Pomona Sprout, Herbology professor and Head of Hufflepuff House, nodded in commiseration. “Such an uneven streak,” she said. “I thought we’d hit rock-bottom with Lockhart, but then last year—”

She didn’t have the time to finish her sentence before Professor Babbling cut in, “Dolores Umbridge—can you believe it?” She placed a drink of pumpkin juice in one of Saturnine’s hands. “Whoever thought that woman was qualified to teach anything…”

She let her words hang, which allowed the other professors to weigh in with their views of Saturnine’s predecessor. Choosing not to join the conversation, she barely listened to the downpour of critics; she’d already heard it all from Harry during the summer.

Instead, she sipped her drink, and it did wonders to soothe her stomach. Thinking of the lad made her heart ache, and she had to school her features not to let it show. Three days—it had only been three days, and yet it felt like three months.

“Thought we had found ourselves ano’ter Professor Snape,” a loud, deep basso voice cut through her musing. Saturnine started at the words, almost spilling her drink down the front of her elegant blouse.

Turning to face the man who’d spoken, she was faced with an enormous chest sporting a black-and-red chequered shirt and a yellow tie. Looking up, she saw a wild, tangled beard and the familiar face of Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds and current Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

“I—I’m sorry?” she stammered. This time, she did not need to fake the tremor in her voice.

“Oh, yeh probably haven’ met him yet,” the half-giant said, words mangled by his thick accent. One of his large hands rose to scratch his chin. “Severus Snape, tha’s our Potions professor. He likes ter keep ter himself, too.”

“Only makes the staff meetings if the headmaster expressly requests his presence,” added Professor Sinistra with a pinched expression, having joined their discussion. “And then he broods through it all, like a sullen child.”

Don’t let him hear you say that, Saturnine thought as she started breathing again. Sweet Circe, but I believed he’d caught me.

“No, I—I haven’t met him yet,” she confirmed softly. And she hadn’t; she’d made sure of that. She had decided she would see as little of her brother as she could and had already thought of a strategy to secure herself a seat as far away from him as possible at the staff table. Her next steps would be to work out when he liked to take his meals and make sure not to show up when he did if she could avoid it.

As it was, she had only caught the briefest of glances of the Potions Master through one of her office windows the day before. Severus had been on his way to the outer gates—going Merlin knew where. Despite the many layers of black on his back, tension had been easy to read in the hard set of his shoulders.

Seeing her brother again, even from afar, had taken the breath out of her. And it had forced Saturnine to lean against the windowpane for long minutes afterwards. The mere sight of him had felt like a stab in the heart, and she wondered, How will I last the year without it completely breaking?

As it was, that question would go unanswered today, as would the question of knowing whether her facial camouflage could deceive the greatest spy of all time. Severus Snape never made it to the mandatory staff meeting, and Saturnine knew at once that the excuse Dumbledore gave her peers to explain his absence was phoney. Dread filled her as a hundred dark thoughts crossed her mind—each more sinister than the next. She wondered what could have happened to her beloved brother.

In the following hours, she tried catching the headmaster’s gaze several times, hoping to silently request more information, but she didn’t manage it. Once the meeting ended, the old man left before she had the time to corner him.

Two drinks later, Saturnine made her way back to the Grand Staircase with Professor Babbling in tow. Given the choice, she would have preferred to go alone so she could rummage through her dark thoughts. But as it was, she needed to make a friend. Or rather, Leen Nine did—preferably one that sat on the left-hand side of the Head Table. Given that the alternatives were the buoyant Hagrid or the stuck-up Professor Vector, Saturnine figured that a place next to the reasonably loquacious Ancient Runes teacher would be a suitable alternative.

The End.
An Old Friend Returns by SaraJany

There was a strangeness to being back at Hogwarts that had yet to dissipate. Everywhere Saturnine looked were memories of younger days. Taking the stairs, she remembered her first night ascending to Ravenclaw Tower. She hadn’t forgotten how amazed she had been when they had veered to the left at some point. She had screamed in surprise, as did several other first-years, then giggled in delight.

Walking down the corridors, gazing at the many paintings decorating the stone walls, she remembered how much she had enjoyed talking to them when she was eleven. By the end of the first term, she was familiar with all the portraits of Ravenclaw Tower and had befriended several others in the subsequent years.

Sadly, not all her memories were as positive as that of the amazement of a Muggle-raised eleven-year-old witch stepping into the Wizarding World for the first time. There were other memories, too, painful ones. Of all the students she had shared classes with, five were now dead—casualties of the war. And several had been injured in the line of duty. A couple more, she had read in the paper, had been widowed along the way. And then, of course, waiting around inconspicuous corners of the old castle were the memories that hurt the most. The ones that featured the only two people Saturnine had been close to before coming to Hogwarts: Lily Evans and her brother. For entirely different reasons, being reminded of either hurt like hell.

Entering the newly refurbished Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, she tried to force her thoughts to take a happier turn. One more day, she told herself. The Hogwarts’ Express would roll into Hogsmeade the next day, its old steam locomotive spitting out large plumes of white smoke. In a cacophony of metallic clangs and clonks, the red passenger carriers would rattle to a stop, their doors opening wide to let out an assortment of black-robed young witches and wizards—including one Harry Potter. Saturnine knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to talk to the lad, but at least she would get to see him. And then she would know—with dead certainty—that he was alive and well.

Entering the Defence Against the Dark Art’s classroom, Saturnine was surprised to find someone was waiting for her. A wizard was sitting at the front row table closest to the window, his gaze lost outside. It was no student but a familiar-looking man with light-brown hair flecked with grey and a rough beard insufficient to hide his facial scars.

“Mr Lupin,” she said, forgoing the French accent to assume a sterner northern intonation. “Eager for the classes to start, I see. I trust that the summer essay you’re about to hand in will reflect your enthusiasm.”

Remus gave her a bright smile at that. It took a few years off the tired lines of his face. “Remind me again what the subject was, Professor?” he asked, standing up.

“Werewolves,” Saturnine replied with a knowing smile. “Ten sure ways to identify them.”

The wizard chuckled at that before coming to kiss her on the cheek. “I’m certain I can exceed your expectations on that subject, Professor.”

She kissed him back. “Oh, I’m quite certain your work would be nothing short of outstanding, old friend.”

“You’ve redecorated,” the werewolf noted as the two parted. “If I may say so, you’ve really put the dark into Dark Arts.”

Glancing around at the ominous portraits hanging on the walls, Saturnine had to concede the point. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, though. There had been no time to think ahead about how to decorate the space before she got here.

“There were notes of pink everywhere when I arrived,” Saturnine said. “And cats—lots and lots of cats. Figurines, posters, painted plates—ugh.” She could not suppress a shudder as she remembered those ugly monstrosities. Her stomach had somersaulted when she had first stepped into her office. “Someone charmed all the office walls pink. Can you believe it?”

“Not the way I left it, I assure you,” Remus replied, with a hand on his heart. “Dolores Umbridge’s touch, I’d wager.”

“Well, I might have gotten carried away a little when I fixed it, but—” She glanced around again. “Now, more than ever, students need to learn how to defend themselves against evil wizards. And I want them to take this class seriously.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Remus said before moving to the teacher’s desk—well, her desk now, she supposed—and perching himself atop it. She had half a mind to remark on it but decided to let it slide. Remus looked tired. And he had taught in this classroom a few years ago; so, perhaps he still thought of it as his desk.

“Hmm,” mused Remus, looking around once more. “You know, if Severus ever gets hold of the Defence job, I imagine that’s close to how he would decorate.”

“My brother doesn’t decorate,” Saturnine deadpanned with a soft shake of her head.

Her friend tried and failed to contain a chuckle. “Fair enough.”

“Now tell me, have you seen Harry? How is he?” Saturnine asked, turning their conversation to a more pressing matter.

“Alive and well,” he replied with no detour, knowing it was what she wanted to hear most of all. “I dropped by the Burrow yesterday afternoon. He was all packed and eager to take the train.” He winked. “I daresay he misses you.”

The dark-haired witch said nothing in return, realising that the relief must have shown on her face.

“Hmm,” Remus said again. “I daresay he isn’t the only one.”

“You nosy wolf,” she chided gently. “Keep out of it, will you?”

The man continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “As you know, I care a great deal about the both of you. I’m happy to see how close you two have become over the summer. And I happen to think you are great for each other.”

There was a time, Saturnine figured, when she could have told Remus to mind his own business, assuming that he was wrong or that he did not know what he was talking about. But that ship had sailed when Harry pulled a vanishing act a couple of weeks ago to rescue one of his school friends. He and a group of students inadvertently came face-to-face with Death Eaters, and Saturnine had been close to losing him. Not even Occlumency could have hidden the anguish that took hold of her as members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered to search for the missing teenagers.

As it was, all Saturnine could do was try to redirect the conversation again. “Have you come with a solution to my little problem?” she asked. “Or are you here only to annoy me?”

“Will I get points for Gryffindor if I solve your problem, Professor?” Remus asked with the boyish grin she supposed he often sported when he was a student here.

“I’m afraid that only works for the kids,” she answered mirthfully. His good humour was contagious.

Remus grew serious again. “I cannot force the map to alter your name. It tells the truth—always.”

Saturnine nodded. She had expected something like that. The Marauders’ Map, which Harry had inherited from his late father, promised to be quite the thorn in her side. So far, she had concealed her true identity from the young Gryffindor with ease. But one look at that blasted map would reduce her efforts to ashes. Desperate for a solution to that little problem, she had sought the help of one of the map’s creators, former Marauder Remus Lupin.

“However,” the sandy-haired wizard continued, “I think I can occlude you completely.”

She crossed her arms over her chest as she pondered the man’s words. “I thought it didn’t lie.”

“It wouldn’t be a lie, per se,” he elaborated. “More of a momentary obfuscation.”

“It’s a fine line,” she said. “But whatever. If it works, I’m happy to overlook the semantics.”

“The map picks up on individual magical signatures. As you know, no two are alike, which helped us to avoid teachers during our nightly escapades,” he said, not in the least phased by having just confessed what his younger self got up to. Saturnine already knew all about that; back then, the Marauders’ reputation was something everyone was aware of, no matter which House they were in. “But troublesome for avoiding Argus Filch, who, as you know, is a Squib.”

She nodded in understanding. “No magical signature to him.”

“Precisely. We had to go back and include the caretaker manually. In retrospect, it was quite the oversight on our part. There we were, so proud of ourselves for what we’d done. And the first night James and Sirius took it for a spin, the very man we were most trying to escape cornered them.” He laughed a little at that. “Earned them both a week of detention, if I recall correctly. But that gave them ample time to think of a solution. It was no easy work, though. We had to deconstruct several of the charms to manipulate the map at that level.”

“And does it allow you to remove someone?” Saturnine asked, hopeful.

Remus nodded with a grin.

“So I will not show up at all?”

He nodded again.

“That’s—that’s brilliant. Not quite what I was going after, but it’ll do the trick.”

“It’s the best I can do. If Harry looks at the map while you’re in the room, you will have some explaining to do, but it should buy you some time.”

“It’s more than I hoped for.” Saturnine smiled earnestly. If Harry should ever figure it out, she would explain what they’d done and why. And she hoped he’d be mature enough to understand her reasons. “Thank you.”

“If I may say, Saturnine.” Remus grew serious again. “Harry won’t like it when he discovers the truth. That boy has been lied to and manipulated enough as it is. And that it came from you will cut deeply.”

The dark-haired witch had no answer to that. Remus had been speaking the truth, and she knew it. She had wanted to tell Harry many times, and if it were only her life on the line, she would have. But this concerned Severus, too. If word got out about who she was, it would put him in danger, and she couldn’t be responsible for that.

Her inner conflict must have reflected on her face, for Remus sat up. An instant later, he reached for her shoulders, drawing her close. She let herself be pulled in.

“I am lying to the two people I care most about on this planet,” she said into his chest. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, and between the heavy makeup and the contact lenses, it burned. “Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”

“I can imagine, ’Nine.” Remus said before placing a soft kiss atop her head. “I’m sorry you find yourself in such an impossible situation.”

“This isn’t a decision that I took lightly. I know I could lose both over this,” Saturnine continued, voice faltering over the last couple of words. “Trust me—if it comes to that, no one will suffer more than me.”

“I know,” he murmured before kissing her head again. “I know.”

He held her a little more tightly, and she was thankful for his steady presence. Remus, with his compassion and warm disposition, had always been a comforting shoulder to lean on in a pinch. And for a moment, it felt like it was 1981 again, and they shared a flat in the north of France. Part of her longed for the return of those simpler times.

The two of them met by accident in Normandie. They got to know each other as they imbibed an insane amount of beer at a local pub, and their unlikely friendship started the morning after, as they nursed their respective hangovers. Circumstances turned them into roommates for the next three years, cementing their bond, which they knew would last until the end of time.

“Thanks for being here,” Saturnine said once she had regained control of her emotions. She pulled away, but Remus kept one of his hands around her shoulders.

“If it were me, I know you’d be right by my side, too,” he said.

She nodded before catching his gaze to let him know that yes, she would.

The End.
The Welcoming Feast by SaraJany

As Saturnine took her seat at the Head Table on the evening of Saturday, August 31st, she marvelled at the unique situation she found herself in. For seven years, she had sat on the other side—the students’ side—shyly gazing up at her professors now and then. In true Ravenclaw fashion, her teenage self had a million questions. Was the professors’ food the same as theirs? Was it pumpkin juice in their cups, or were they allowed something stronger? And mostly, she had wondered what they talked about at mealtimes, day after day.

Never in a million years did she think she would be sitting on this side of the Great Hall one day. And that it would be her that hundreds of students would gawk at, curiosity etched deep in their youthful faces. Saturnine still did not know what would be in her drinking cup tonight. But she had an idea or two where the discussions would go. Between the team of Aurors patrolling outside the castle and the newspaper reports of Death Eaters raids happening throughout Britain, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was on everyone’s lips.

Shortly before the students were due to arrive, Professor Leen Nine had made it to the ground floor with her new best friend, Bathsheda Babbling, in tow. At the elder witch’s instruction, she had taken the chair to the blonde’s left. Saturnine wasn’t sure whose spot she was stealing, but she didn’t care. She had nicked the third seat from the left, which was more than fine with her.

Anticipation built up as the rest of the staff arrived, and Saturnine attempted to pay attention to Professor Babbling’s words. The Ancient Runes teacher explained Hogwarts’ Sorting Ceremony to her, and the dark-haired witch tried to ‘hmm’ and nod at the appropriate times. She could have done without the reminder; it wasn’t like she could ever forget what the Sorting Ceremony was like; hers had left an indelible imprint in her mind. Though the Sorting Hat had made the right choice when it called out, “Ravenclaw!” over the top of her head, it also signed the death warrant of hers and Severus’ relationship. Being sorted into different Houses had been the beginning of the end for the two of them. She saw it in her brother’s dark eyes that very night, when she moved to sit down at the ravens’ table. She’d had no idea, but fourteen-year-old Severus Snape had felt the turning of the tide. She could still see it when she closed her eyes—sadness stealing over his boyish features as understanding dawned on him, his right hand shooting up to tightly grip the silver pendant hidden beneath his shirt. It ended with his face disappearing into the shadows cast by a curtain of thin black hair.

The sounds of dozens of pairs of feet hitting the stone floor signalled the students’ arrival and drowned out the rest of Professor Babbling’s words. Saturnine’s gaze shot up towards the entrance of the Great Hall, where young boys and girls, dressed in freshly pressed school uniforms, started pouring in. The quiet atmosphere that had reigned over the hall so far was blown to smithereens as they gathered around, exchanging loud greetings up and down the tables before ultimately choosing a place to sit down. It was only when Professor Dumbledore joined the Head Table that the noise level lowered to something half-decent.

Saturnine took a moment to appreciate the view from the raised dais on which the Head Table sat. It afforded staff members an unobscured view of all four House tables and the entire student body. And her spot on the left-hand side gave her an excellent view of the one Gryffindor boy she was so invested in.

She had to hand it to Harry; the lad had behaved perfectly so far. She had been worried that he would stare at her too much and inadvertently reveal their connection. But he had kept himself in check. Upon entering the Great Hall, he had stared, all right—as had Weasley and Granger. But then, all three had been quick to glance away before sitting down. Saturnine couldn’t hold back a smile.

Ten points to Gryffindor, lad, she thought warmly, before glancing at her still empty cup and wishing it would fill already. She was parched.

From thereon in Saturnine let her gaze move about the room randomly. But always, she kept a lock on the lad in her periphery vision—as she knew she would do throughout the school year. She was nearly positive she caught him doing the same thing once or twice, and it warmed her heart.

Harry wasn’t the only one mindful of where his gaze rested. Saturnine hadn’t gazed at the room’s far-right once since, in a flurry of swirling dark robes, her brother had walked in. But it didn’t matter that she hadn’t looked to where the Head of Slytherin had sat down; knowing that Severus was there, mere feet away from her, was enough to set her heartbeat aflutter.

The ongoing chatter died down when the side door opened, and Professor McGonagall walked in, followed by a line of wide-eyed first-years. And then Saturnine heard it: the familiar, level tone of her brother’s deep voice. Her heart tightened painfully in her chest, and she had to grip the table with both hands to stop herself from showing any reaction.

She was too far away to make out Severus’ words, but there was no second-guessing who the voice belonged to. As the Sorting Hat started singing, she turned her head to the right. Severus was leaning backwards in his chair so that he could speak to Madam Hooch, their Flying Instructor, behind Professor Trelawney’s back. The Divination teacher seemed so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed a thing.

The song ended, and the Sorting Ceremony began, and Saturnine forced herself to pay attention to it, hoping it would distract her. She clapped when expected to, stood awkwardly when Dumbledore introduced her to the students, and made herself eat when the food finally appeared on their table.

Her mind was so removed from the actions that she couldn’t have said what she ate or drank. As soon as she deemed it appropriate, Saturnine took her leave, saying that she still had a couple of things to prepare for her first class and that she wanted to get an early start the next day.

On her way back to the third floor, she tried centring her thoughts and recovered her countenance. She took the long way back and found that walking down quiet darkly-lit corridors did wonders to improve her concentration. She’d have to find a way to get a grip on her emotions, she realised. She couldn’t let the mere sight of her brother throw her like that again. Too much hinged on the concealment of her identity.

Severus was in a precarious situation, she knew—caught between Dumbledore’s mad schemes and Voldemort’s dark designs. Were it to come to light that his younger sister had returned to Britain, many would seek to get their hands on her to get to him. At least her previous employer, Rufus Scrimgeour, had had the good sense to keep the knowledge of her return to himself. But she wasn’t sure the headmaster would prove as cautious.

Pushing open the door to her private quarters, Saturnine heaved a sigh and rolled her tense shoulders. A warm shower would do wonders, she realised, as she crossed through her small living room. A tapping sound made her freeze mid-way. She turned to face the window and discovered a tawny barn owl perched on the windowsill. It was pecking at the glass with its beak.

Saturnine moved to let it in, and the bird flew towards the nearest armchair, landing cautiously on its back and dutifully raising its left leg. The dark-haired witch retrieved the missive and patted the bird twice on the head before it flew back out. The note was from Albus Dumbledore and requested her presence at once. She was on her way to the Headmaster Tower minutes later, wondering what could be so urgent that it couldn’t wait until the morning.

It was almost time for curfew now, and she didn’t meet too many students on her way down. Those that she ran into greeted her politely, with a touch of curiosity, and she returned the favour more demurely, slipping into the persona of Leen Nine.

When she entered Dumbledore’s cluttered circular office, she was surprised to find Professor McGonagall was also present. The headmaster and his deputy headmistress were deep in conversation over a pile of parchment.

“Right on time, Professor Nine,” Dumbledore said as he sat up from behind his claw-footed desk. Blowing out a nearby candle, he added, “We were just on our way to 12 Grimmauld Place; would you care to join us?”

Next to him, Minerva McGonagall levelled a stern look at her that let Saturnine know the old wizard had only asked her out of politeness. So that’s what it is, she thought: a summons to an Order of the Phoenix meeting.

Saturnine nodded cautiously but remained silent. She was curious to know who would be in attendance. If there were Order members she had met before, that could be problematic. They wouldn’t recognise her underneath all that makeup and would invariably say something. Then Professor McGonagall would be onto her. It could derail her entire plan.

“A small gathering,” Dumbledore added, as if he had ascertained her hesitation. “It should be over quickly.”

She nodded and followed the pair into the green flames of the headmaster’s fireplace.

The transition to the old London townhouse was near-instantaneous, and Saturnine barely had the time to steel her features before she stepped into the Black’s living room. Glancing around at the wizards and witches gathered there, she realised she needn’t have worried. The only two people in attendance she was familiar with were Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. The latter had clearly been informed of the peculiar of the situation beforehand, for she did not indicate surprise. If she had to guess, Saturnine figured she had Remus’ quick thinking to thank for that. Following the pair down to the kitchen, she gave her old friend a discreet nod of thanks.

Dumbledore hadn’t lied; it was a simple meeting to set up a rooster of patrolling Aurors in and about Hogwarts Castle for the duration of the school year. The protection detail had been sanctioned by the Ministry. But it seemed the headmaster was adamant that one Order member—or at the very least, an Auror vetted by them—was present for each shift.

It was no surprise that Dumbledore feared an attack on his school. The Dark Lord’s shadow was growing. It now enveloped much of Wizarding Britain and was stretching itself north at a rapid pace. Voldemort was getting bold, and everyone knew he had his eye set on Scotland and the magical school located there. As Dumbledore emphasised during his speech, the Order needed to work hand-in-hand with the Ministry of Magic. They needed to further their alliance if they wanted to fight the opposition’s ever-growing forces.

Saturnine had to bite her tongue hard at that. She had a thing or two to say about their newly appointed Minister for Magic, and none of them were too kind. Sure, she hadn’t thought much of the previous one, Cornelius Fudge, but his replacement, Rufus Scrimgeour, was even worse. Where Fudge had been a naïve, bumbling fool, Scrimgeour was a devious crook who knew how to use and abuse the system. Still, the Ministry had finally seen the light and decided to stand on the right side of the fight. And despite her grievances, Saturnine knew that when the last battle came, they would need their numbers. So, the dark-haired witch remained silent and kept her years of rancour to herself.

The Order meeting ended a short while later, and several members departed at once. Though a few stayed behind to have a couple of drinks, Saturnine excused herself quickly.

Instead of leaving, she disappeared into the old townhouse’s basement. A Potions lab, she knew, was installed there. Now that she was here, she figured she might as well turn this night into something productive. The timing was right for it. And after what had happened at the Welcoming Feast, she wasn’t sure she could have slept, anyway.

Stopping in front of an unassuming plain oak door, she pulled out her wand and performed a series of complicated spells to unward it. Entering her lab of fortune, she turned on the lights before placing her dark robes on the back of a chair. The air was warm and stuffy in the cramped room, but she resisted the urge to roll up her sleeves. It wouldn’t do to expose her forearms to potential burning projections.

Lighting a flame beneath a thick cauldron, she reached for the fresh aconite that rested on a nearby shelf. Deftly opening the jar, she carefully pulled out the poisonous plant before placing it on the cutting board. Glancing around to make sure the rest of the ingredients were ready to be used, she set about making the potion Remus needed to take monthly.

Albus Dumbledore’s demand to meet with her earlier this spring had come as a surprise. The two had had precious little interaction during her time as a student at Hogwarts, and none after she had left. How he tracked her down, just when she had freed herself from the clutches of the Ministry, was a mystery to her. When the seasoned wizard requested she join his secret Order of the Phoenix group and become the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, she had met him with a couple of demands of her own. The first was for some detailed information on her brother that only the headmaster possessed. The second was that she be granted the means to brew Remus’ Wolfsbane Potion each month, as long as they both should serve the Order.

The second request had been easier to negotiate than the first, but ultimately, she’d had her way. As a result, the old cranky house-elf of 12 Grimmauld Place had furnished a room for her, and the headmaster had placed several orders for the ingredients the potion required.

While Saturnine got started, it struck her as funny that she hid away in what amounted to little more than a stuffy broom closet. Hogwarts had a Potions classroom ten times bigger and several smaller individual labs that would be more than convenient to use. Of course, the old castle also had a talented Potions Master that would probably raise an eyebrow or two if their newly appointed Defence teacher started brewing Wolfsbane Potion in the middle of his dungeons for no particular reason.

The End.
Walking a Tightrope by SaraJany

On Monday morning, Saturnine felt her apprehension grow as she readied herself for her first classes. She started with an easy class: the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff third-years. And after recess, she had the Gryffindor-Slytherin sixth-year group to look out for—Harry’s class. She had prepared something special for them that she hoped would make a lasting impression. And if she got to impress Harry a little with her nonverbal skills, it would make her day.

She was thankful that her disguise was holding up so far. Aside from that first staff meeting, she had now taken several meals in the Great Hall, and no one had recognised her. And going by the vast number of questions she received about her schooling at Beauxbatons, and France in general, it seemed everyone had bought her story.

Never before had she thought that her time spent in the north of France and the lengthy discussions she had had with the owner of the bookstore where she worked would come in so handy. The librarian, François Francis, a graduate of the Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons, had shared several memorable moments of his youth with his young employee, and the two had spent many an afternoon listing differences and similarities between the two schools.

On a more personal level, Saturnine hadn’t yet been face-to-face with her brother. Rather, she worked under the assumption that the longer she delayed the inevitable, the less likely Severus would be to give her the time of the day. If she could become a fixture in his routine, a dismissible sight on the periphery of his vision, the taciturn Potions Master might not pay much attention to her when the time came for direct interaction. Or at least, that’s what she told herself to calm her nerves.

Using the short fifteen-minute break of the morning recess, Saturnine dipped out of her classroom for a quick stop at the library. With all the preparation she’d had to do, and Remus’ potion, she had been unable to stop by before.

Entering the marvellous domain that took up a large section of the castle’s first floor, Saturnine felt a wave of excitement rush through her, shaking her to the core. The sight set her heart aflutter, as it had the first time that she had crossed its threshold twenty-two years ago. Sitting there, within an arm’s length, were tens of thousands of books resting on thousands of shelves along hundreds of narrow rows. So many pages, so many words—there, within the reach of her fingertips.

To Saturnine, books have always held the cherished consistency of faithful companions. In her teens, when life turned awful, she nearly lost her sanity to the lure of talented wordsmiths. Spending her free time with her shoulders hunched over paper and ink, she immersed herself in made-up worlds. Handing over the controls of her mind to the throes of her passion, she allowed her body to be trapped in a prison of its own making.

Twenty years later, she itched to greet them all, to lose herself within their pages, to sip their knowledge and unlock their mysteries. It took a genuine effort on her part to move straight to Madam Pince’s desk with no detour.

“Professor Nine,” the woman addressed her, in a hushed tone so low it should have been inaudible. The librarian must have perfected it over the years, for Saturnine understood every single syllable. “Here to pick up the volumes you owled me for?”

Not trusting herself to speak in a matching tone, Saturnine nodded emphatically.

With the tip of one bony finger, Irma Pince wordlessly pushed forward a stack of books she’d had ready to go. The sound wasn’t any louder than the turning of a page.

Saturnine nodded her thanks and turned on her heel. Books safely piled in her arms, she hurried out of the library before the last of her resolve left her, and she gave in to the lure of the literary cornucopia. Eyes resolutely downcast, she almost bumped into whoever was coming in. Glancing up, she was met with a wall of black, and she started in recognition.

She barely remembered to watch her tone of voice as she apologised. “Oh, pardon,” she rushed out quickly. “I didn’t see you there, Professor Snape.”

Her brother barely acknowledged her and said nothing as he skulked past, seemingly in a hurry to get into the library himself.

The encounter, though brief, left Saturnine reeling. And it was with short, panting breaths and shaking legs that she made her way back to her office on the third floor. Her head was spinning.

Severus had been there, only inches away from her—so close and yet so far. She realised it was a good thing she’d been holding an armload of books against her chest at that moment, for there was no saying what her hands might have been tempted to do otherwise. She had wanted to reach out so badly.

Entering the third-floor corridor, she felt the familiar sting of tears burn at the corners of her eyes and fought to keep her composure a short while longer. It wouldn’t do to break down in front of the students on her first day of teaching.

Crossing through her office in a daze, she carelessly dropped the pile of books on her desk before falling into a chair. In her mind, the brief encounter at the library’s entrance repeated itself in a loop. And every viewing was like a tiny stab to the heart. This was the first close look she’d had of her brother in fifteen years, and she wasn’t likely to forget it anytime soon.

It was no surprise that Severus looked older than the teenager she remembered, but she hadn’t expected him to look so worn-out and weary. There were tight lines at the corners of his eyes and dark smudges underneath his lashes. The skin on his cheeks was pallid and stretched tight over his sunken cheekbones. His dark eyes that had always gleamed with an intelligent, curious spark had been dull and flat. She knew the signs: not only did Severus look sickly, but he wasn’t eating and sleeping enough.

No one else seemed to have noticed anything, though. Or if they had, they didn’t comment on it, and Saturnine had to wonder if maybe that was how Severus always looked. If that was the case, she was probably better off not knowing it. Still, there had been no hesitation to her brother’s movements, and he’d stalked past her showing no signs of outward weakness. That made her wonder what potions regiment he was under. Overmedicating, rather than taking better care of himself, was something her brother would do. Circe knew it was what he would have done if she hadn’t been there to put her foot down when they were younger.

“Walking a tightrope, my arse,” she muttered to her empty office, with all the bitter resentment she could muster. Earlier that year Albus Dumbledore had assured her that Severus was fine—under a lot of pressure, yes, but fine. Bollocks!

Hogwarts’ Potions Master was ill and barely coping, but he was so good at hiding it that no one had noticed. But regardless of which mask he wore, he couldn’t fool her. Saturnine had seen right through him at a glance. And that was perhaps the most disturbing revelation of it all—he had seen nothing in return. Severus had looked right at her, at his own sister, and he hadn’t caught on. Her brother was off his game—and not just a little.

That realisation made her blood boil. She could feel the magic thrumming in her veins, demanding she take action. It came from deep within—a primal need to protect her kin, her blood. The need to defend, to fight for her sibling was strong inside her, and it took a substantial effort of will to calm herself. If she wasn’t careful, she knew she could tear the castle apart if she thought it would help Severus. Same as she could mince Dumbledore to pieces if she convinced herself that he was responsible—and wouldn’t that feel great.

By now, Saturnine was running late for her lesson, she knew. But she couldn’t go downstairs in this state. Focusing on her breathing, she shifted her focus onto Harry, the young boy she had sworn to protect and who—at this very moment—was downstairs with a classroom full of Gryffindors and Slytherins awaiting their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. She had a duty to him, too. Focusing on that, she calmed her breathing enough to reopen her eyes. When the world didn’t spin or swim out of focus, she stood up.

“For Harry,” she said as she glanced at her reflection in the nearest window to make sure her disguise was still unaltered. “You’re doing this for Harry.”

With that last thought repeating itself in her mind, she opened the door of her office and walked down the stairs and into the classroom. She was already standing in front of her students when she realised she’d forgotten to put on her teaching robes.

***

A little over a week later, Saturnine enjoyed a quiet evening at 12 Grimmauld Place with Remus Lupin. She had absconded from the school after dinner and flooed straight from her office’s fireplace to the old townhouse. The two had settled themselves in the cosy library, where plush armchairs and a large sofa were put to good use. They also helped themselves to the liquor-filled crystal decanters that awaited them at the back of the room.

“Something on your mind, dear?” Remus asked as he leaned more comfortably into his armchair. His joints cracked as he stretched his long legs ahead of him.

In retrospect, Saturnine realised she probably ought to have gone for the armchair so that he could have taken the sofa. The full moon was tonight, and she knew that stretching his limbs helped relieve the growing tension that preceded the transformation. Something on her mind, indeed.

“I’ve had Harry in my class twice last week and once more on Monday, and I’m just surprised at what I saw, that’s all,” she sought to explain.

“How so?” Remus asked, rubbing at his left arm as if to fight off a cramp.

“Something’s different about him, but I’m not sure what.” She paused as she quickly scanned her various recollections. “It’s like he’s more serious, more—on his guard, somehow.

“Can’t really blame him for it. Merlin knows it’s the right attitude to have with what’s going on. But I’m still—I don’t know—unsettled?” she continued. “There was a certain openness and vulnerability that I was used to seeing in him. I don’t see it anymore, and I miss it.” She paused, running that sentence over in her head. “Sweet Circe, but that sounded saccharine.”

Remus chuckled. “It sounded like you care, ’Nine. Which you do.” He sighed, rolled his shoulder a little, and continued. “Want to hear my thoughts on it?”

She gave him a nod. “Go ahead—shower me with your wisdom, old man.”

Remus took no offence at the cheap jab. He was only three years older than her, and they both knew it. “Sounds to me like you’re not the only one wearing a mask.”

She frowned as she pondered her friend’s words. “Do you think that’s what it is?”

“Mm-hmm. From the first day Harry set foot in Diagon Alley, he’s been told he is famous. An impossibility made real—the Boy Who Lived. And now, he also has a destiny—to kill the darkest wizard of all times and save everyone.” He sighed. “Prophecy or not, I know that boy. He has a good heart and ultimately, he doesn’t want to let people down. He’ll do what’s expected of him because that’s who he is.”

Saturnine nodded in understanding. “He’s putting up a front for his friends—and everyone else. Showing them what they expect to see.”

“Exactly,” Remus murmured.

She shook her head, feeling her eyes well up. “He’s just a child, though. He shouldn’t have to; this isn’t fair.”

“I’m with you there. But life rarely is fair; you and I know that better than most. I would have taken Harry away and sheltered him from all of this long ago if I thought I could. As it was, I stood by and watched as he lost the only family member he had left.”

She knew who Remus meant: Sirius Black—Harry’s godfather. The past being what it was, Black was a topic the two rarely ever broached. But there was no denying the pain in her friend’s gaze now. Pain for Harry, sure. But pain for himself as well. The young Gryffindor wasn’t the only one who’d lost someone dear that day.

Moving to one end of the sofa, Saturnine patted the inviting space on her left and stared hard at Remus until he stood up from the hard-backed armchair.

“Lie down, would you?” she told him. “I know it’ll help ease the tension.”

Kicking off his shoes and removing his tweed jacket, the werewolf complied. He soon rested on his back with his head pillowed on the dark-haired witch’s thighs—as they had done so many times before. Saturnine massaged the top of his shoulders and arms while Remus focused on keeping his breathing calm.

The two friends remained silent for a long time, contemplating what had been said and what their words foreshadowed. The war was coming, and Harry would be at the heart of it. Saturnine knew she would be there, too, and she had a feeling Remus wouldn’t be far behind.

Hopefully, there would be other people around them. And maybe, hopefully, they would win.

“It’s almost time,” Remus said, eventually. His words broke the comfortable silence they had fallen into.

Glancing at the nearest window, Saturnine noticed how dark the London sky had gotten. It wouldn’t be long until the moon came out. She sighed when Remus sat up with a groan of pain. Why he always insisted she leave, she would never understand.

She had absolute faith in the Wolfsbane Potion he had taken all week—she had brewed the damn thing herself, for Merlin’s sake. Remus would be nothing more than a massive, drowsy, shaggy wolf for the rest of the night. Nevertheless, every time, he insisted she leave him alone.

Though she knew what her friend’s answer would be, she made a point of asking each time, anyway. “Sure you don’t want me to stay?” she demanded. “You’ll be no more than a fluffy dog tonight. I could scratch you behind the ears while you snore the night away.”

Remus turned in his seat, an eyebrow raised in amusement. He may have had some appreciation for her joke, but there was a resolute darkness in his gaze that she was familiar with. She knew what it meant.

“A really big, toothy dog who could snap me in two if I belly-rubbed him the wrong way,” she conceded. “Even so, I can take care of myself.”

Remus shook his head, not nearly as amused anymore. “I will not risk it, and you know it. Thanks for the potion though, ’Nine—sincerely. It makes a world of difference to me.”

“I know, old friend.” She stood up and summoned her teaching robes. Reaching inside a pocket, she retrieved Professor Nine’s square-shaped glasses and pushed them on. “I haven’t forgotten what happens when you don’t have it.” And I never will, she added within the privacy of her thoughts.

There had been no Wolfsbane Potion when the two lived together in Normandie, and Remus lost his mind to the wolf every full moon. She would never forget the screams of agony that came from his mouth during the transformations, nor the howls of rage that escaped the beast’s snout afterwards. It was seared into her brain, like the state she would find him in the next day was—body broken and bleeding, eyes full of unwarranted shame.

She gave Remus a tight, long hug before leaving. She sought to impart as much comfort and affection as she could before he forced her to go. Without needing to be asked, she would return at dawn to check up on him, bringing along her habitual set of muscle relaxants and pain reliever.

“Thank you, Saturnine,” Remus whispered in her ear before stepping back. At his tone, the words could have been ‘I love you’. If the circumstances had been different, she knew it might very well have been—they both knew it.

“You be safe,” she whispered back in much the same tone, echoing his sentiment. It might have been—but they had both decided it wouldn’t.

The End.
A Mother’s Wrath by SaraJany

By the end of the first month, Saturnine felt settled into her new routine. By this point, she had Professor Nine’s act nailed down. And if she were honest with herself, the job was growing on her. Being a teacher wasn’t half bad, and if she’d been allowed to give the classes as herself—she might have truly enjoyed it.

It was better than most of the jobs she’d held over the years, and it beat the time she had spent being the Ministry’s puppet. The only downside to her current situation was that there were days when she felt that, here, too, someone was pulling on her strings.

As she made her way to the puppeteer one late Wednesday afternoon, Saturnine strengthened her resolve and promised herself that she wouldn’t be leaving the headmaster’s office without having had her way. She hadn’t expected that she would have to go to Albus Dumbledore with the requests she was about to make. But she’d heard that being responsible for a child came with certain responsibilities, and she took her duty seriously. She only hoped the old scheming codger wouldn’t set too steep a price for his help.

She had thought Harry was doing well. He had certainly looked like it, the little cheat. He had fooled her good with his tough-guy act, and she’d had no clue the distress he was in until he broke down and confided in her the night before. While she had been missing their closeness something fierce, she hadn’t thought the lad was feeling just as bad. A grave oversight on her part that she was on her way to rectify.

And then there was Draco Malfoy, who apparently had problems of his own.

“Pumpkin lolly,” she muttered to the gargoyle standing guard at the bottom of the Headmaster Tower. The stone statue obligingly moved to the side, and she ascended the stairs quickly.

Upon entering the circular room that was the headmaster’s office, she focused on the man seated behind the enormous, claw-footed desk rather than stare at the collection of knickknacks that crowded the surrounding shelves. She paid the portraits of the old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames, even less attention.

“Lemon drop?” Headmaster Albus Dumbledore offered, pushing forward a crystal bowl full of candies. Without looking up, he motioned at her to sit in the closest chintz armchair. She declined both and stood standing near the desk.

She had caught the headmaster while he did his correspondence, and she let him finish the letter he was writing before addressing him. A fire crackled away merrily in the grate, warming up the late afternoon air, and she gazed at the flames to pass the time.

A contented sigh escaped the headmaster’s lips, and she returned her attention to the old man. He signed his name at the bottom of the parchment, rolled it up like a scroll, and sealed it with wax. Next, he stood and walked to the ornate wooden perch upon which sat a flamboyant phoenix.

The regal bird had crimson feathers on his body and a golden tail as long as a peacock’s. At his master’s request, Fawkes dutifully stretched out a leg. Once the missive was secured to it, the mythical creature disappeared in a flash of fire.

Albus Dumbledore returned to his seat, eyes twinkling slightly behind his half-moon spectacles. “An unexpected visit, but a pleasant one. What may I do for you, Professor Nine?”

“Sir,” she said, deciding to cut the niceties short. “Two things: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.”

“Ah.” Dumbledore smiled. “A most entertaining pair, those two. And what have they done now?”

“Harry thinks Draco is up to something,” she started. Then she told the headmaster everything she had heard from the young Gryffindor. “I don’t know how much stems from their antagonistic relationship and how much is truly relevant,” she finished at last. “But I believe it bears further investigation.”

Dumbledore remained silent a moment longer, lost in his thoughts as he twirled the tip of his long beard around a finger.

“I would suggest,” she continued, in the same professional tone, “that perhaps the Head of Slytherin House might discreetly look into it and let you know if he’s noticed anything odd going on with his prefect.”

At that, Dumbledore’s blue eyes lifted before narrowing at her. “And what makes you think the Head of Slytherin House would agree to such a thing?” he asked. There was no denying the slight mirth in the old man’s tone.

“He would if you asked him to,” she replied, keeping hers in check. “He works for you and the Order of the Phoenix, does he not?”

“That he does.” The headmaster nodded. “And if it were any other student, I wouldn’t think twice about it. But young Mister Malfoy is a special case, and I do not think that asking the boy’s own godfather to spy on him would be the wisest course of action.”

Saturnine failed to contain her surprise. “Draco’s his godchild?”

The older wizard nodded again. “I take it you didn’t know.”

She shook her head before sitting down in the armchair she had refused earlier. That was unexpected. She was aware of the Malfoys’ position in their society and couldn’t understand how her brother could have become so close to Lucius and Narcissa that they would entrust their only child’s safety to him, should the worst happen.

It wasn’t that she didn’t think Severus could do a good job at it, but she knew what people like the Malfoys thought of blood purity. They would certainly think twice before bestowing that type of responsibility on any Half-Blood.

“How come?” she asked at last, failing to make sense of it all. “I mean, I think I remember Lucius and Severus knowing each other back in the days. But I would never have thought the Malfoys would allow any relationship with, well—someone like us.”

“A fair assessment,” Dumbledore agreed. “But Lucius Malfoy does what benefits Lucius Malfoy.”

“Exactly. And I don’t see what Lucius has to gain by linking his family to ours.” Saturnine had no illusions; she knew full well which background she came from. And it couldn’t have been further removed from that of Wizarding Britain’s richest family.

“Allow me to explain, then.” The headmaster leaned back more fully in his chair before resting both hands atop his desk. His left was hidden underneath a blue glove and seemed dead to the world. “Draco, as you know, was born one year before Severus got his position at Hogwarts. A position he took under direct order from Lord Voldemort.”

Saturnine nodded, showing she knew that much already.

“But what you may not know is that Severus tried applying for a job here long before that. Still under the same master’s orders, of course.”

What has that to do with anything? she wondered, and then the chips fell. “Lucius knew Severus would get the job eventually. He counted on it. He wanted someone beholden to him amongst the staff when the time came for his progeny to start his education here.”

“Precisely,” Dumbledore nodded. “Another of Lucius’ ploys to secure his son’s position in our society and further advance the Malfoy line.”

Saturnine shook her head in disbelief. “What a conceited jerk. Does Severus know that?” she asked. Then she answered it herself. “What am I saying? Of course he knows.”

“You understand now why it may not be wise to ask him to spy on Draco? Despite it all, Severus has a certain fondness for the boy.”

She nodded. “I’ll monitor Draco myself. Could you discreetly ask some of the other professors to do the same?”

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, and silence fell over them. Well, that was half of her problems solved. But it had been the easy half, and she knew it.

“I believe you wanted to ask something else?” the old man said, eyes twinkling again.

In for a Knut, in for a Sickle, she thought, bracing herself. “I need your authorisation to give Harry Potter remedial classes.”

“Whatever for? Surely if there is one student here who doesn’t need help with Defence Against the Dark Arts, it’s Harry Potter. In this subject, he rather enjoys being the one doing the tutoring, if I recall.”

“I’m well aware of that, Headmaster.” She sighed, deciding once more on a direct course of action. “Harry has requested the opportunity to spend some time alone with me, and short of giving him detention upon detention, it’s the only thing I can think of.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said before seeming to consider the matter for a long time. Saturnine awaited with bated breath. “Very well. I will grant it—providing your time is put to good use.”

There it is, she thought, the price tag. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“Legilimency. I would like you to teach the boy.”

Saturnine felt her blood boil at once. She sat up straighter and tried maintaining her composure. It was a conversation they’d already had. Well, they hadn’t been able to finish it, but she had clearly expressed her opinion on the matter. That the headmaster would revisit this subject when she was asking him for a favour…

Saturnine narrowed her gaze at the old man and fought to keep her lips locked.

“You don’t like me much, do you?” Dumbledore asked, unsettling her further.

Saturnine saw no point in lying to him and forced words past clenched teeth. “No, I don’t.”

“Pity,” he said, as if they were discussing the weather. “Any reason why?”

The dark-haired witch tried hard to keep her tone as level as his had been. “All due respect, sir, but you’re not half as wise as you think. I know that what you do for the war effort is important, and I respect that—truly, I do. And I know you must make difficult decisions sometimes. But you have made the wrong choices more than once—some of which I will never forgive you for.”

If anything, the seasoned wizard seemed to enjoy her honesty. She supposed not many people had the gall to tell the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot that he was fallible. “And you think this is another of those mistakes?”

“Yes, I do.” It was hard to keep her tone in check now. “Actually, it may be the most foolhardy plan you’ve ever come up with. It would take years for anyone to get a good enough grasp on Legilimency to hunt down a specific memory undetected. And to want to attempt it on someone like the Dark Lord? I will not have Harry exposed to whatever filth resides in that madman’s head.”

Dumbledore grew solemn again. “I have heard your opinion on the matter and take it into account,” he said. “However, I believe that Harry and Tom share a unique connection—one that goes deeper than our understanding. With the proper training, it could allow Harry unprecedented access, and we need this information.”

“No!” she said, tone rising. And it wasn’t the only thing rising. That familiar surge of feelings of protectiveness was stirring close to the surface.

“You’re not the boy’s mother, Saturnine.” The headmaster’s tone of voice was so resolute that it might as well have signified their conversation was over.

That was a low blow, and it incensed the witch further. “No, but Harry’s in my care. I’m in charge of his safety because you put me there—sir. I am merely doing what you’ve asked me to do. And my answer’s still no.”

“I could reassign you,” he said, lips barely moving.

She glared darkly at him. Dumbledore or no Dumbledore, if the older wizard thought he could take the lad away from her, he was in for a rude awakening. Her fingers tightened into fists at her sides.

“Don’t you dare,” Saturnine warned him in a tone so low, it was little more than a growl. Her magic flared at the thought of losing Harry, and she allowed it to surge. The air in the room sparkled with the kind of static electricity that heralded an oncoming storm. Parchments and quill rustled on the old man’s desk as an unseen wind disturbed the stillness within the locked room.

The dark-haired witch stood up, body poised for a fight. She didn’t mind the power display and kicked it up a notch. She could have trashed the office within seconds if she wanted, but that would have shown a lack of restraint. She knew that controlled discharges of power impressed more than wild, erratic surges. The flames in the grate grew more intense as the skies darkened outside the windows. A moment later, the rain started rattling down the glass as an impossible breeze blew through the room.

“Think carefully about what you’re doing, Headmaster,” Saturnine cautioned, her tone cold but controlled. “I do not think you have the time or the resources to be engaging in another fight. But try to take Harry from me, and you will have another war on your hands. You may think you know me, but I assure you that you don’t.” She paused to make sure her following words would sink in. “You do not want me as your enemy.”

“My dear Saturnine,” Dumbledore said in the same amicable tone he had used before. “I may not know you that well, that is true, but I know Severus. And the two of you are more alike than I thought.” He smiled at her as if she hadn’t just threatened to wage war against him. “Severus is always so calm, so controlled—much like you, but when he decides to engage, when he commits to a decision, there’s no stopping him. I see that is a quality you both share.”

Saturnine stood unmoving as Dumbledore spoke. He could keep on spouting nonsense all evening if he wanted. She wouldn’t back down an inch.

“Very well,” he added, with a smile that felt forced. “I will respect your decision in the matter.”

The old, weary professor stood up, and she kept her gaze trained on him as she asked, “But?”

“But,” he continued, a twinkle returning to his bright blue eyes, “we still need to find and destroy the Horcruxes.”

Always a price to pay, Saturnine thought as she closed her eyes long enough to dispel the angry clouds that had formed atop the Headmaster Tower. The flames in the grate died at a flick of her wrist. But she kept the breeze going to show her displeasure at the task she had been given. “You’ll have me do that, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said before straightening up his desk and stacking all the loose parchment into a neat pile that he weighted down with the bowl of candies. The quill disappeared into a drawer. If anything, this seemed to amuse him.

Saturnine was tempted to send the delicate crystal bowl crashing into a wall. She had just condemned herself to search for a couple of needles in a gigantic haystack of tedious paperwork. It would take an insane amount of time and meticulous research to locate the Horcruxes. But she had no choice but to do it.

“I’ll need help,” she said, relaxing her stance a little.

“I’m sure Remus will be more than happy to aid you,” Dumbledore said. “You know where to find him, I assume.”

Of course she did. And of course, if she were the one to ask for that huge favour, her old friend would readily say yes. Damn the old codger for making her feel as if she were a chess piece. He’d used the same tactic to get her to join the Order and assume the Defence position. Only it had been Severus’ name he had dangled in front of her like a juicy carrot that day. She would be damned if she would let him use Harry that way now. Wordlessly, Saturnine turned on her heel and left the circular office—slamming the door on her way out. That childish display, she hadn’t been able to hold back.

Despite having had her way, she felt as if she’d just lost a battle. Damn you, old fool, she thought on her way down. I won’t let you use Harry like that.

Coming to a decision, she realised she needed a sure way to counter the scheming headmaster, should it come to that. It should be possible to enquire discreetly after adoption procedures without the greatest wizard of modern times hearing about it.

As she walked past the gargoyle again, a little voice at the back of Saturnine’s head wondered if this wasn’t the outcome the headmaster had sought all along.

The End.
The Loss of Innocence by SaraJany

Mid-October, while Hogwarts students enjoyed their first trip to Hogsmeade, Saturnine relaxed in the quiet silence of the library of 12 Grimmauld Place with a nice cup of tea, elf-made cookies, and a friend.

“I’m sorry to be dragging you into this,” Saturnine apologised once she finished telling Remus everything about the bargain she made with Dumbledore. “I’d do it on my own if I thought I could. But being a teacher takes up much more of my time than I presumed it would have. And I’m afraid the headmaster will demand results soon.”

“It’s all right, Saturnine,” the werewolf replied, giving her a wide smile. “I really do not mind, and I have more than enough time to help you with this.”

“I can easily get away from the castle for a couple of hours here and there on the weekends. But during the week—Sweet Circe, it’s like I’m on-call round the clock. I thought it was just classes and grading, but there are night patrols, and students showing up to my office all the time with questions about this and about that.” She sighed, enjoying the warmth from the fire burning away in the hearth to her left. “I have an all-new understanding of the job.”

Remus chuckled slightly. “You don’t have to tell me. But I’m happy to hear students come to you with their questions. It’s a sign you’re doing a good job and that they trust your expertise.” Then, growing more serious, he added, “I’ll help you with this all I can. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Saturnine’s good humour evaporated at that. Remus had been cooped up in the Order’s headquarters for months now, and she wasn’t sure when he had last left the Black’s old townhouse. Ever since Sirius’ death, he hadn’t been doing well. His spirits had lifted during the summer. And the afternoons spent with Harry at the cottage had done him a world of good. But now that he was on his own again, he’d apparently gone back to his old habit of blaming himself for all the world’s troubles.

Reminding herself that Remus had always done better when he had a job to do, Saturnine felt a little better about dumping on his shoulders the bulk of their research. Still, she couldn’t let him off the hook completely. “Remus, dear,” she said in the most compassionate tone she could muster.

He raised a hand to forestall her. “Please don’t.”

Their eyes met, and she held his tired gaze until he looked away. She hadn’t forgotten the shame that poured from her friend the day he’d finally confessed the truth about his lycanthropy. She had never seen him so utterly wretched before; it had looked like the poor man didn’t think he was worthy of even being alive. It was a look she never wanted to see again. And whenever Remus veered towards the path of self-loathing, she saw it as her duty to put him back on track.

They both knew what she was about to say. They’d had that discussion many times before. She said it anyway—the short version, at least. “I trust you remember what I think of that attitude. And you know what my reaction will be if you keep it up.”

Remus sighed, defeated. He looked the picture of misery for an instant. Then he shrugged his shoulders once before straightening up. “Horcruxes,” he said. “Any idea where to start?”

“With the man himself: Tom Riddle.” She had thought about it in the days that followed her encounter with Dumbledore. “We need to find as much as we can about what he’s done with his life after leaving Hogwarts—and where he’s been to. For every Horcrux he made, someone had to die. We find the victims, we find the Horcruxes.”

***

That very afternoon, the news of young Miss Bell being taken to St. Mungo’s was a blow to their side’s morale. For Saturnine, it was a sign they had better redouble their efforts to locate the Horcruxes so that they could rid the world of Lord Voldemort once and for all.

As the school’s titular Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Saturnine’s presence had been requested at once. Realising right away that they dealt with a cursed artefact, she hurriedly erected mental shields in the girl’s mind to try to protect what was left of her sanity. Next, the dark-haired witch had performed whatever healing spell she had picked up through the years to try and lessen the poor girl’s pain. But it had been too little, too late.

Even if the healers of St. Mungo’s managed to repair Miss Bell’s body, Saturnine knew her mind would be scarred for life. To think that such a dark and nefarious artefact had almost made it into Hogwarts was astounding. They’d been lucky the seventh-year Gryffindor had only grazed it, for a more direct contact would have resulted in a quick, yet very painful, death.

As she had watched the healers take Katie Bell’s body away, Saturnine wondered if she would ever see the young witch again. Few minds, she knew, were strong enough to survive the trauma her body had been subjected to.

As she walked back to the castle, lost in her thoughts, she couldn’t stop her mind from pulling up memories of Frank and Alice Longbottom. The two Aurors had fought against Voldemort and his Death Eaters during the First Wizarding War until they were tortured into insanity by a group of Death Eaters.

She had never spoken to Frank, but seventh-year Alice had been part of the Gobstones club when first-year Saturnine joined. She remembered a kind, young witch with a fierce personality—and an uncanny ability to capture other players’ stones.

Saturnine and Remus had been about to celebrate their first Christmas in France when news reached them about the Longbottoms’ attack and the subsequent arrests of Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Junior.

Remus had been friends with them both, and the news had hit him hard. All thoughts of Christmas and gift-giving were quickly forgotten. Saturnine had sat with the werewolf on the sofa, hugging him through the worst of his tears and rubbing his back soothingly until sleep mercifully came.

Saturnine had barely made it into Hogwarts when Argus Filch came to tell her that she was expected to the staffroom at once. Whether the old caretaker knew what had happened, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t fit to put up with his fool-mood and bitterness. She barely spared the man a word as she moved past him.

She reached the staffroom at the same time as Professor Sprout. The Herbology teacher still had dirt stains on her fingers and down the front of her robes. It was clear she had left her greenhouses in a hurry. Creeping inside, Saturnine found a corner to stand in on the opposite side of where her brother stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked as displeased as everyone else to have been summoned to an unscheduled meeting.

Headmaster Dumbledore wasted little time recounting what had happened. And after waiting a couple of minutes to let the shock and surprise dissipate, he told his staff of his decision not to make this event public. None of the students were to know what had happened, save for the seventh-year witch present when Katie Bell was injured.

Saturnine wasn’t sure this was the right choice. Sure, the news would cause panic within the school. But lying—for whatever reason—rarely led to good things happening. And it would be harder to investigate and find the culprit if they couldn’t ask direct questions.

Once the meeting ended, she flooed straight to 12 Grimmauld Place. It probably wasn’t the smartest choice, but the odds that she would find any sleep after a day like this were slim, and she needed the comfort of a friend.

Upon hearing what had happened, Remus had gone down to the cellar to fetch one of the Black’s finest vintages, and the two had reconvened to the old townhouse’s library to drink their sorrow away. The pricy whisky was far too much for the occasion. But alcohol was alcohol, and it did much to numb the pain and fear.

“I wish I could have done more,” Saturnine admitted between two sips. She was lying on her back on the sofa, the crystal glass precariously balanced on the top of her bended knees.

“There was little to do. We both know that,” Remus said, mindlessly twirling the amber liquid in his glass. “At least you managed to lessen her pain. That has to count for something.”

“Barely seventeen,” she muttered to her glass. “Still just a child.”

Looking around at the Black’s library’s vast collection, Saturnine was reminded that more than half the volumes surrounding them were devoted to the Dark Arts—the very thing they all fought against. Perhaps it was the alcohol in her talking, but at that moment, she wondered if winning the war would solve anything. Evil was evil, and it wouldn’t end with the death of one wizard.

“This reminds me of that French song you used to listen to,” Remus commented after a moment of silence. Seeing her puzzled look, he added, “The one with the Pakistani girl.”

The memory came back to her quickly. If she concentrated hard enough, she could still remember the melody. “Ah, Salômbo.”

The werewolf took a sip from his whisky and nodded. “That’s the one—the girl who had seen too much, done too much.”

“She wasn’t supposed to touch the sacred flower, but she did anyway,” Saturnine continued. “And in so doing, started a war.” It was apropos, she figured, in a sad but poetic kind of way.

“You liked it so much that I looked up the lyrics one day,” Remus admitted with a rueful smile. “I’m not sure I ever understood what the singer was trying to say, but your French was always better than mine. Clearly, it’s a metaphor for something—the loss of innocence, perhaps?”

She agreed with Remus’ understanding of the lyrics; it was a song about the loss of something. Saturnine wasn’t sure if it was innocence, but she wasn’t the best judge of those things. Unlike young Salômbo, she had never had much innocence to lose, and it had all been gone by then. Nevertheless, she had enjoyed listening to that song on a loop, haunted by the exotic harmonies and the melancholic voice of the singer. “Perhaps,” she agreed as she gazed at the ceiling.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself, ’Nine,” Remus said, as if sensing the dark path her mind was on. “There are casualties on both sides during the war—and victims who took no part in the fighting at all.”

“You don’t have to tell me that innocents die every day,” she said harshly, as parts of the lyrics echoed loudly in her head. “I know full well.”

Damn you for making me think of that song, she thought to herself. Talking about the loss of innocence and children getting hurt and paying the price of adults’ mistakes—it was hard not to make a twisted parallel with her own miserable life-experience. It was impossible to hold back the bitterness that wanted out of her, and it seeped into her voice as she said, “I know everything about being robbed of your innocence. About being forced to grow up in a world that is both unfair and cruel, surrounded by people who don’t give a damn what goes on behind closed doors.” She paused and turned her head to look the werewolf straight in the eye. “Thank you ever so much for reminding me; that’s just what I needed today.”

Remus held her gaze unwaveringly. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, rising and coming to sit at the end of the sofa, next to her sock-clad feet. “It never was.”

Saturnine had half a mind to throw what little whisky was left in her glass into his face. They weren’t talking about Katie Bell anymore, and she wondered if they had ever been. She looked into Remus’ warm eyes accusingly, even though she knew he’d be able to see the tears now pooling in hers.

“You need to make things right with your brother,” he advised, gazing at her levelly.

His words were like a tiny stab to her heart. “Don’t go there,” she pleaded with him. “Not tonight, please. I don’t have the strength.”

“He needs you,” Remus continued, placing a comforting hand around her calf. “Severus is all alone, on a very dark path. And trust me, that man hasn’t seen the light shine through the clouds in a very, very long time. He needs you to show him the way out; he’ll never be able to find it alone.”

It wasn’t like Remus to be waxing poetic like that, and Saturnine wondered if it was the drink talking. Thinking back on the French ballad she had discovered so long ago, she realised that something in its mysterious sensitivities had always made her think of Severus, and that realisation cut her deep inside.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” she whispered. And something had to be said about ‘liquid courage’ because she had never dared voice these thoughts aloud before. “Or if he’ll even let me try.”

“I’d help if I could, but Severus can barely stand to be in the same room as me.” Remus looked away as old shame resurfaced. “I can’t blame him for that—what with all we’ve done to him. That poor boy.”

“Don’t,” she said, forestalling him. That, too, was a discussion they’d already had.

Remus downed the rest of his drink before turning back to face her. “For what it’s worth, I really hope your brother will let me apologise one day. I don’t care if Severus never forgives me, but I’d like to be able to say the words at least.”

Saturnine nodded in understanding. Liquid courage only lasted so long, she realised. Her eyes filled with tears again, and it was becoming harder and harder to restrain them.

“I love him so much,” she whispered. “I never stopped. Not even when—” A pained gasp escaped her lips. “But when I look at him now, it’s like seeing a stranger with my brother’s face. He’s so cold, so detached. I’m not sure if the person I grew up with is still there. And if he isn’t, I don’t want to know.”

“It’s just a mask, Saturnine,” Remus assured her. “To hide the pain inside.”

“Is it?” she asked, wanting to believe but not daring to.

He nodded. “During Harry’s third year, when Sirius was on the loose—that mask slipped. That night in the Shrieking Shack, we faced the same angry, bitter Slytherin boy we liked to harass so much. When Severus cornered us, he had that sneer on his lips and that familiar spark in his eyes. Oh, I promise you, ’Nine, it was like looking at the teenager we butted heads with when we were fifteen.”

Saturnine wished she could have been able to thank Remus for the hope his words brought her, but she was tongue-tied. It took everything she had not to break down in tears.

Remus’ hand moved up and down her calf, setting a soothing rhythm. “I think he will fight you with all he has, but you’ll have to hold on until you get through,” Remus said. “You have both suffered enough; it’s time that ended.”

Beyond words, Saturnine nodded, deciding she would. One last time, she would fight for her brother—for them both. And this time, no matter how much Severus pushed back, she wouldn’t give up. She wouldn’t abandon him again. Just like dear old Salômbo, she wouldn’t back down—never mind if she inadvertently started a war along the way.

The End.
End Notes:
So it turns out that Saturnine is a bit of an Indochine fan—who knew.

Unlike the song featured previously, this one isn’t an anachronism (go me!). They released Salâmbo in 1985 on the album “3”. The original version has a new wave pop-rock kind of vibe that was typical of the times, but I much prefer the more recent acoustic versions. My favourite rendering will always be the live recording from the 2006 concert in Hanoï, Vietnam.

Regarding the lyrics, it’s hard to say what the song is really about and the band has never offered an official explanation. The general consensus seems to be that it is either about drugs (the ‘sacred flower’ being the poppy flower which grows wild in Pakistan and is used to make opium), sex (the ‘sacred flower’ being… you know), or possibly the loss of cultural tradition in eastern countries because of the expansion of tourism and globalisation. My personal bet is that it could very well be a mix of all three.

Either way, happy listening:
—Sara.

Live from Hanoï version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=johHDK5HzA8
Original ’85 version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4kAJkSCoVA
Lyrics with English translation: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/sal%C3%B4mbo-salombo.html-0
Into the Snake's Lair by SaraJany

“Tell me again how this is a good idea,” Remus murmured sotto vocce.

The two of them were packed together in a tight recess in the wall between two statues in the corridor leading to the Great Hall. Hidden beneath a strong Disillusionment Charm, they stood as immobile as they could while students hurried out of the castle. Buzzing with anticipation, they were headed for the Quidditch pitch for the first match of the season between Gryffindor House and Slytherin House.

It was an opportunity Saturnine and Remus couldn’t pass up, and they had agreed to meet at the gates earlier that day so that she could let him in discreetly. Now, they only had to wait for the old castle to be empty of both staff and students. Then the two of them could put their plan into motion.

Saturnine felt a pang of regret when she saw Harry, dressed in full seeker regalia, walking out of the castle surrounded by his friends. She would have loved to be there to watch the game, but this was one more sacrifice she was willing to make to protect him. She silently wished him luck and dearly hoped he wouldn’t break any bones today.

Another figure caught her attention minutes later—a taller, more imposing silhouette dressed in black from head to toe. Severus didn’t look too happy to go outside as he hurriedly stepped down the corridor, black robes swirling around him like angry wings. Given the pressure his House was under, it was understandable. The animosity towards Slytherin House had reached unprecedented levels when the other three Houses banded against the snakes, and she didn’t envy his position. And if she was absolutely honest with herself, as a former Ravenclaw, she was slightly ashamed of the ravens’ recent behaviour.

Once her brother was out of sight, Saturnine relaxed slightly and eased out of the recess and into the corridor. She felt Remus following her an instant later, and the two wasted no time heading for the dungeons and entering the empty Potions classroom.

“Seriously,” Remus said, lifting his Invisibility Charm. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

“I want to see if Severus kept any of Horace Slughorn’s old journals. And he might also have one or two left by Salazar Slytherin himself.”

“I know that,” Remus chided. “I meant why are we doing this,” he waved his hand about, encompassing the empty classroom, “when we could just as well ask Severus for those?”

Reaching the back of the classroom, Saturnine crouched down next to the door leading to the Potions Master’s office. Pulling out her wand, she started disassembling the warding charms.

“If you want to go ask Severus Snape for personal favours, be my guest,” she said, focusing an instant on a clever repelling charm. It took an effort of will to turn it off without damaging it. “I’m sure he’ll be absolutely delighted to help you out.”

Remus grumbled his discontent but said nothing as he kept his gaze steadfastly on the entrance door. Saturnine continued to work on disassembling her brother’s safety measures. Finally, the latch clicked open, and they slipped inside his office.

The dark-haired witch was surprised by what she discovered in the dimly lit room. Her brother’s office was much larger than hers. It had a huge fireplace, a large desk, and more space than she would know what to do with. And all around the room, the shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars filled with rare species of animals and plants, floating in preserving potions of varying colours.

Moving closer, Saturnine realised what an amazing assortment this truly was. At a glance, she found two medicinal plants she thought were extinct and an unspoiled type of Grindylow said to be impossible to capture. Saturnine would have loved to inspect some of the specimens of her brother’s collection more closely, but it wasn’t that kind of visit. Still, it was as impressive as it was priceless. Clearly, Severus must have spent years assembling everything, and she did not doubt that he still added to the collection often.

Glancing around, she saw that all the jars were carefully labelled with lines of black ink. The tiny, spidery script assuredly looked familiar to her. And a smirk graced her lips when she realised that, after all these years, Severus Snape still wrote like he was afraid he was about to run out of paper. She felt a surge of affection well-up in her as she remembered an eight-year-old Severus teaching her to form letters in the margins of their father’s old newspapers.

Returning to the moment and task at hand, she pointed to a row of dusty old books and journals. “We’ll look around here first. I’ll take the left side; you take the right.”

“Severus will have me hanging by the balls if he catches us,” Remus muttered, but he got to work, anyway.

Crouching in front of the shelves, Saturnine perused the lowest levels first before working her way up. “Oh, tell me part of you isn’t enjoying this—pulling one over him, for old time’s sake?” she asked as her eyes narrowed on a copy of a potions treatise that had to be at least three hundred years old. Damn, but she would have loved to read that one.

“A tiny part of me, yes,” Remus assured her. “But a much, much larger part—let’s call it survival instinct—is screaming at me to run for the hills while I still can.”

Saturnine chuckled at his words. She wasn’t sure how much time they had. Twenty—maybe thirty minutes, at least.

It would take time for all the students to make it to the Quidditch pitch and sit down along the benches. Then the players would gather around and get ready to kick off the ground. They’d fly around a little to greet the crowd, and finally, the balls would be released into the air. She figured they had at least twenty minutes until the game began. After that, it was anyone’s guess.

Saturnine had a feeling today’s game would be over quickly. There was no way the lions and the snakes could play ball for hours without tearing each other apart limb by limb. Either the Seekers would have to be quick about it, or Madam Hooch would put an end to the all-out war and send everyone packing with their ears ringing.

It took Saturnine and Remus less than ten minutes to decide that there was nothing interesting in Severus’ office. She had feared it would be so and had come prepared for the next step. Moving to the door that led to her brother’s private quarters, she knelt down before placing her palm against the wooden surface. She could feel magical energies pulsing through the old oak.

Breaking into Severus Snape’s office had been no simple task. There had been charms all over the place. And the entrance had been warded enough to withstand a small tornado. But something in her brother’s magic had recognised her as family, and that had cut the task’s difficulty in half.

She was counting on her luck holding through for this next part. If not, she had a trick or two up her sleeve. Working for the Ministry had given her extensive experience breaking into other people’s homes. The Auror Corps had a small booklet full of spells designed specifically for that. The existence of that documentation was a well-kept secret, but she’d walked away with a copy nonetheless.

“Paranoid much,” she muttered as her Analysis Charm picked up over a dozen different safety measures entwined on the other side. They were so tightly bunched up together that it was near impossible to tell them apart, and even more difficult to isolate them.

Grunting in defeat, she pulled back before standing up. “Can you hand me a piece of wood to transfigure?” she asked Remus as she switched to her backup plan.

The werewolf handed her a small stool, and she tore it to pieces with a few flicks of her wand. Taking one leg, she transfigured it into a large frame that she stuck to the wall with a charm.

“Do you really think it’s time to decorate?” Remus demanded nervously.

Standing closer, the witch started reciting the charms to turn the frame into a portal that would allow her to cross through. The walls had only half of the protection that had been placed on the door, and that, she could disassemble.

“Be careful to leave everything just as it was,” Saturnine cautioned before stepping through the shimmying portal less than two minutes later.

They arrived in Severus’ living room, and Remus cast a portable Lumos to light up the place. He sent it hovering above the coffee table so that it would illuminate the entire space.

What an enormous space, Saturnine noted, with a touch of jealousy. And is that a kitchenette? Her private quarters didn’t have a kitchenette; aside from her bedroom and shower room, she only had a cramped space with two armchairs and a tiny coffee table barely large enough to qualify as a living room. Damn, but she had been cheated.

Remus didn’t seem as interested in the size of the accommodation as she was, and he’d already started scanning one bookshelf. She moved to another, allowing a small smile to grace her lips. Some things never changed. Severus still loved to read.

***

“It will take time to go through all this,” Saturnine said as they deposited their spoils of war on the coffee table of the Black’s library. The two had duplicated about ten books and journals before the spell she had placed on the Quidditch pitch let her know the game was over. Just as she’d imagined, it had been a quick affair.

They wasted no time leaving and were careful to set everything as it had been before. The frame was disassembled, and the stool returned to its original shape and place. The protective wards were reactivated, and two disillusioned silhouettes ghosted out of the Potions classroom and into the dungeons corridor just in time to see a fuming, brooding Head of Slytherin House barrelling down the stairs. It took no guesswork to know which team had won today.

“If you ever tell your brother about what happened tonight, can you tell him you were alone?” Remus asked, with a remorseful look on his tired face. “I already have so much to apologise for; I don’t want to add to the pile.”

Focusing on the books and journals they had brought back from Hogwarts, Saturnine nodded in understanding. “Of course, Remus.”

She fully expected her friend to leave it at that and was surprised when he kept talking.

“So much I regret already,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Glancing up, she saw that Remus wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was leaning against the unlit fireplace, his gaze lost on the row of shelves that supported the Black’s vast book collection. Saturnine didn’t need to see his face to know what she would find there. She was well acquainted with Remus’ regrets and guilt. The latter stole over her friend’s features every time he spoke to her about Severus.

“When I look back at it with an adult’s eyes, I can’t believe how stupid we were,” Remus added. “Four against one—and we thought we were the good guys.” He let out a harsh, bitter chuckle. “Knowing what I know now, knowing what he’d already been through—that makes me sick.”

Saturnine had half a mind to stop him, but she stayed where she was—kneeling by the coffee table, a pile of hastily duplicated books forgotten in her hand. Even if it hurt to hear it, she knew Remus needed to get the words out sometimes. She wasn’t the Snape he ought to be telling this to, but she listened anyway.

“I don’t know why,” Remus continued, leaning more heavily against the mantelpiece. “Honestly, I have no idea. It was James and Sirius—well, Sirius, mostly—but I don’t know why he singled Severus out like that. It just happened.

“And all the things they did to him—I let it happen; I even helped sometimes. All because I thought it was funny. Dear Merlin, but I thought it was funny.”

The words brought tears to Saturnine’s eyes. No matter how many years had passed, the memories were still fresh in her mind. And she could easily recall that Remus wasn’t the only one who had thought it was funny to hex Severus, to vanish his school books and charm his clothes in Gryffindor red, or whatever else the Marauder had thought of that day. Half the school had thought it was funny, too. Worse still, all the teachers had looked the other way—even when her brother almost lost his life over a prank gone wrong.

It had been hard to live through those years and see the pain and misery this brought to Severus. She had idolised him so much when they were younger, and to see him constantly on the losing side had cut her deep within.

She had tried to help at first; she came up with clever ways to level the playing field and offered her assistance to make the Marauders pay. But Severus flat out refused every single one of her ideas and ordered her, in no uncertain terms, to stay out of it.

His refusal of assistance had both surprised and pained her. But looking at it now, with an adult’s perspective, she understood that Severus had pushed her away to protect her because he didn’t want his little sister to become the Marauders’ next target.

“I’m so sorry,” Remus continued in a guilt-ridden voice. “I meant what I said the other day. I truly regret my part in all this, and I hope Severus will let me apologise sometime.”

The werewolf turned to face her then, and Saturnine saw her friend force a smile on his tired face. It never reached his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, ’Nine,” he said. “I bet you have better things to do than listen to me ramble on about past mistakes.”

Despite the pain she felt, Saturnine stood up. She took a step closer to the sandy-haired wizard and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine, Remus. I’m your friend, and I’ll always be there when you want to talk—even if the subject hits close to home.”

The werewolf nodded his appreciation, his face displaying all the regret of an adult who knew he could never fix the mistakes he’d made in his youth. She enveloped him in a hug and felt some measure of relief wash over her when she felt him tighten his arms around her back.

 

The two of them had decided long ago that what had happened at Hogwarts would have no bearing on their friendship. Their time in Normandie had been a parenthesis in their lives: a self-contained event that existed outside of the rest. In that ramshackle of a flat, she wasn’t Severus Snape’s younger sister, and he wasn’t James Potter and Sirius Black’s best friend. They were simply Saturnine and Remus—kindred spirits who needed time to heal their wounds. The two of them had always known their time in France wouldn’t last forever and that, ultimately, they would return home one day.

Foolishly, they never imagined their paths would cross again so many years later. But now they had. And Saturnine realised that telling Severus the truth about Harry was one thing, but telling him the truth about Remus would be a whole different can of worms.

The End.
End Notes:
Questions by SaraJany

Saturnine was anxious as she flooed to 12 Grimmauld Place for what would be the Order’s last meeting before the end of the year. She and Harry were due to return to Cornwall the very next day. But Dumbledore had insisted she attend.

She wasn’t sure why her presence was necessary. But when she arrived, and the living room was empty, save for one old, seasoned wizard dressed in burgundy robes dotted with white stars and moons, she had her suspicions.

“Thanks for making the trip, Professor,” the headmaster began without rising from the armchair nearest the fireplace.

She didn’t begrudge Albus Dumbledore his lack of manners. She had noticed that his health had worsened over the past couple of weeks. And she wasn’t sure Dumbledore could stand, even if he wanted to.

“Headmaster,” Saturnine said respectfully.

“I meant to enquire, before the meeting, about your side project,” he said, waving his working hand about to indicate she should take a seat on the nearest chintz armchair. She obeyed.

“As expected, it’s slow going. But we’ve been working hard nonetheless. We had our first breakthrough a couple of days ago, actually.”

Dumbledore gave her a nod that prompted her to continue. “It is my belief that Salazar Slytherin’s old locket could be one. As I’m sure you know, it was passed onto his heirs, along with that ring you recovered. I suspect it was linked to the murder of a witch—an avid collector of magical antiquities—that happened in 1961.”

“Any proof of that?” Dumbledore asked.

“None yet, sir. But Remus and I have a plan to gather more evidence. It will take us some time to set it in motion, though. So, we’ll probably have to wait until after the New Year.”

He nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Any more leads?”

“Well, if I’m right about the locket, it could indicate a pattern.”

“Salazar Slytherin’s heirlooms.”

“Indeed. And we know where to find another. If my suspicion about the locket is correct, we will shortly attempt to retrieve the second one.” She paused, then decided that it was safe to broach another subject. “If I may, sir,” she began, careful to keep her tone courteous. “What of Draco Malfoy?”

Dumbledore raised a curious white brow above his half-moon spectacles. “What of him?”

“Mr Malfoy’s grades are slipping, and he doesn’t seem to be doing well. He barely pays attention in class anymore.” Draco had seemed to worsen the more time passed, and she wasn’t the only one to have noticed. “Professors McGonagall and Flitwick reported the same behaviour when I asked them about it.”

In for a Knut, in for a Sickle, she thought, then asked the question she really wanted to ask. “Have you made any headway in discovering who tried to kill you?”

“I haven’t,” Dumbledore replied with a sense of finality that told her that no matter how many times she asked that question, that would always be his answer. “And neither has the Potions Master who inspected the poisoned Meade.”

It was easy to know who that potioneer was, and the dark-haired witch was familiar enough with Albus Dumbledore now to read between the lines. The headmaster had discussed the matter with Severus and decided not to investigate further. And they had agreed to keep that information on a need-to-know basis. Saturnine had a bad feeling about all this, and whatever their plan was, she hoped they knew what they were doing.

The arrival of Tonks, who shook herself free of soot as she stepped out of the green flames, ended their discussion. Her hair was bubblegum pink today, and her smile was infectious. Three more members of the Order, with close ties to the Ministry, soon followed.

A short time later, Remus joined them in the kitchen, and their meeting started.

It wasn’t the most informative of sessions. It was merely a recap of the latest events, and the sharing of their spy’s most recent information. Near the end of the meeting, Dumbledore made it clear to everyone that Harry Potter would be taken to a safe location for the duration of the Holidays and that someone would guard him around the clock. He didn’t get into more details, and Saturnine made sure not to give any outward signs that she would be assigned the job.

As soon as the meeting concluded, Remus and Saturnine reconvened to the werewolf’s bedroom on the second floor.

“Will you still move forward with your plan?” Remus asked as he sat down on his bed. For lack of a better place to sit, Saturnine joined him there.

She knew that many bedrooms far larger and more comfortable were available in the old townhouse, but her friend seemed content with this one—shabby as it was. It was sparsely decorated and simply furnished, in hues of mahogany and beige, with a single square-shaped window that overlooked the street. By the looks of it, Remus did little more than sleep in here. And she surmised he spent the rest of his time either in the library or the kitchen.

Though the two of them had moved away from prying eyes and ears, Saturnine still took the precaution of casting a Silencing Charm on the door before answering the werewolf’s question.

“I will,” Saturnine said with a sense of determination that she didn’t feel. “I think.”

Pushing his pillow to the side, Remus leaned his back against the wall to sit more comfortably. He said nothing, but the eyebrow he’d arched at her words prompted her to continue.

“Am I insane? Is it folly to want to take Harry in?”

Remus kept silent, giving her an annoying, knowing half-smile. If he hadn’t moved out of reach, she’d clip him round the ear for that.

“All right.” She waved a hand at him, indicating her defeat. “Say what you have to say.”

“I only have one question.” He lifted a finger for emphasis. “Do you love Harry?”

She hadn’t expected him to lead with this question, but it was easy enough to reply to that. “You know what I’ll say.” She caught his gaze without flinching. “Of course I do.”

“Then you have the answer to your question,” Remus said, shrugging.

“Simple as that?”

“Why—did you want me to make it more complicated?”

She didn’t, but love didn’t make her doubts any less real. She still remembered where and when she had first thought to adopt Harry Potter. She had seen it as a way to throw a wrench in the cogs of the headmaster’s plans—surely that wasn’t the best reason to want to adopt a child.

The idea had grown on her in the following weeks, though. And when she discovered how easy it was to adopt someone in their world, she hadn’t thought twice about heading to the Ministry to get the correct forms. But still—would Harry want her? And more importantly: was she even right for him?

“What if I make mistakes along the way?” Saturnine asked, for once sounding much like the shy, nervous Leen Nine. “What if I make the wrong choices?”

Remus gave her an understanding smile. “You probably will at some point. All parents make mistakes, ’Nine. You’re only human; you’re not infallible. But so long as you love that boy with all your heart, things will be all right.”

She wanted to believe that it could be so simple, but she had her doubts. Harry had been hurt so much already that she didn’t want to add to his pain. If anything, she wanted to take it all away.

“Trust yourself a little, will you,” Remus continued. “I know you. You will be a good mother. You’re fierce when it comes to protecting those you care about—Molly Weasley has nothing on you.”

She gave him a shy smile at that, conceding the point. She would fight tooth and nail to protect the boy—that was a given. She was less sure about being able to provide the emotional support Harry needed. Circe knew, she’d had little practice in that area.

“You’re kind-hearted, loving, and supportive. And I know firsthand what it’s like to be the centre of your attention,” her friend continued. “Harry’s very lucky to have you, ’Nine.”

“Remus,” she said, her heart constricting tightly in her chest. Not for the first time, where the two of them were concerned, she’d heard words that hadn’t been said. The werewolf must have heard them, too, for there was no mistaking the look of understanding in his warm gaze.

“I know that ship has sailed,” he said a moment later. “But I will never forget what we had, Saturnine. And what might have been.”

She reached out a hand to him, and their fingers met halfway. “Neither will I,” she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

He gripped her hand tightly. “You gave me so much. You helped me when no one would.”

“As did you,” she whispered back, unable to speak louder.

As unlikely as their friendship had been, it was a marvellous thing. On top of everything else they’d had to deal with back then, she’d lost both of her parents, and Remus had lost his father. They helped each other through those difficult days in the same way they dealt with the rest of their problems.

Without her, Remus would probably never have had the courage to return to Britain after losing his three best friends. And without his support, she might never have found it in herself to seek the truth about what she was. And they certainly would not be here today, discussing the fact that she was a couple of days shy of asking Lily Evans’ son if she could adopt him.

“Now,” Saturnine said, changing the subject to lift the mood. “One question for you before I go.”

“Ask away,” Remus said, letting go of her hand. He must have felt the tone shift, too, because he was smiling good-naturedly again.

“Please tell me you’re not so oblivious as to have not noticed the way Tonks looked at you throughout that meeting.” The blush that crept up the werewolf’s cheeks was answer enough, and she chuckled before adding, “Planning to do something about that?”

“Weren’t you leaving?” the sandy-haired wizard demanded, glancing at the closed door.

“Oh, give it a chance, Remus. You deserve to have someone, too. And 1997 is almost upon us—it could be your New Year’s resolution.”

“You just love to meddle, don’t you?” he asked, his blush darkening.

“Don’t make this about me. We were discussing you,” she said, pausing to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively. “And that sassy woman downstairs. She has the hots for you, and it shows.”

“’Nine!” Remus said, blustering.

“Calling it how I see it,” she said, raising both palms. “Please do something about it,” she added before standing up.

“Merry Christmas, Saturnine,” Remus said by way of goodbye. “Thanks ever so much for your unwanted advice.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she replied, lifting the silencing charms. “You know I always like a good pillow talk.”

Said pillow was flung at her retreating back an instant later. It missed its target and landed on the corridor’s carpeted floorboards. She walked away, chuckling loud enough to be sure the sound would carry all the way back to the tiny bedroom.

***

On the morning of December 25th, Saturnine indulged in a rare bout of self-introspection, for there was something no one knew about her. There was a little detail about herself that she hadn’t shared with anyone—not even Remus. What Saturnine was the only one to know was that she could never have children.

She had been twenty-three years old the day one of her mentors told her, not too kindly, that she was sterile. Her condition wasn’t the result of an illness or accident but due to a twist of fate—a cellular level deficiency. Wizards and witches like her, Elementals, carried within them incredible power, she discovered. But it came at a great personal cost—infertility.

Having grown up the way she had, Saturnine wasn’t sure that she would ever have wanted to have children. But be that as it may, she never got to ask herself the question or ponder the idea. At twenty-three years old, she had never given the matter much thought. And once she was informed of her condition, it became a moot point.

Ten years down the line, Saturnine was at peace with the knowledge that bearing children had never been in the cards for her. There had been no need to mourn the loss; she’d accepted the fact, as she accepted many other things. But a small part of herself still despised the notion that she’d been robbed of the ability to choose. She would have liked to have had the possibility, one day, to honestly ask herself that question.

And then she had met Harry Potter in Little Whinging’s playpark. And her world had been thrown off its axis.

Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still see him as he had looked that day: wind-tousled brown hair, watery green gaze lost in the horizon, worn-out trainers scuffling the playground floor as he rocked back and forth on an old swing. The lad had looked the picture of misery: underfed, sleep-deprived—grieving. Seeing Harry like that had awoken something deep within Saturnine: a part of her that had been dead to the world for years.

Perhaps it was the settings; perhaps it was the fact that this was Lily’s son. Either way, her mind’s eye was quick to superimpose the image of another broken-hearted child gently swaying back and forth on a rusty swing set. Severus had spent countless afternoons doing just that as he whiled away the time, hoping that his friend with the fiery hair would show up soon.

One look at Harry Potter’s defeated form, and it had been too much already. One glance at the pained lines of his tired face, and Saturnine knew she wouldn’t leave the park without at least talking to him. Five minutes later, she decided she would get involved, no matter what plans she had made for herself.

Glancing through Cove Cottage’s kitchen window and the weak sun that pierced the morning clouds, Saturnine marvelled at what a difference a couple of months could make to someone’s life. The young wizard that was safely sleeping in the cottage’s second bedroom wasn’t the same kid she had seen that day, was he? Wondering whether to bake cookies or a cake, she realised she wasn’t the same person either. And she was on the verge of another major life change today.

Against all odds, Saturnine was well on her way to becoming a parent after all. She wouldn’t get to carry the boy in her womb, and she would never recognise her traits in his face. But that was of little importance. Love was still love—and it was all that mattered.

Deciding on gingerbread cookies, she realised that she’d had it wrong all those years ago. It was never about what her answer would have been. It was about what Harry’s answer would be. Because, after all, asking was the easy part. Being ready for his answer wasn’t.

The End.
Distractions by SaraJany

When Saturnine returned to Hogwarts after the New Year, it was as if nothing had changed. But everything had. Glancing down at the charm bracelet around her wrist—the one piece of jewellery that she would never remove again—she felt a surge of love for Harry. For her son.

While the adoption wouldn’t be official for some time yet, it was already in her heart. And within the privacy of her thoughts, she had taken to referring to the lad as her son. And sometimes, late at night, she wondered if Harry ever thought of her as his mother. And if she would ever hear that word pass his lips. It was the most marvellous of feelings. And part of her wanted to share the happiness she felt with the world. Another meant to keep this precious secret under wraps so it would always be theirs and theirs alone.

Another part of Saturnine wondered what people would say if they knew the truth. A Snape adopting Harry Potter—that one was certain to make the headlines of the Daily Prophet. Not everyone would be happy at this turn of events, she knew. There would be some serious public backlash, but she wasn’t overly worried about that. She had long since learned that the opinions of strangers mattered little to her. The opinions of those close to her, though, was another thing.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Lily and James would have had to say to this. She liked to think that Lily would have understood that she wasn’t trying to take her place. Having never once spoken to Harry’s father, Saturnine was less sure how James would have felt. But Remus had assured her that his old friend would be glad that someone was there to love and care for his son.

That only left one unknown variable in the equation: Severus Snape. And try as she might, Saturnine didn’t have the first clue how her brother would react to the news. Knowing him, it could go either way. He could be curious enough to want to learn how this had come to be, or he could simply declare them both persona non grata, curse them into next week, and storm out in a fury.

***

By mid-February, Saturnine was certain Harry’s instincts had been right. Something awful was going on with Draco Malfoy.

The Slytherin prefect who had returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays wasn’t the same as the one who’d left. If Saturnine had thought the young wizard was depressed before, she had no words for his current state. And it wasn’t simply his classes and prefect duties that paid the price of the boy’s lack of interest. Last she’d heard, young Mister Malfoy had bowed out of the Quidditch team.

Last year, she had discreetly observed Draco at Quidditch practice twice. Not only was the boy good, but it had seemed like he was truly enjoying himself, too. Though nothing in the classroom seemed to hold his interest, he had come to life when he mounted his broom. And after a few laps around the pitch done at breakneck speed, a large smile had been plastered across his face.

It pained her to think what might have caused Draco to let go of Quidditch. Had he been ordered to focus his energies elsewhere? Had it to do with whatever nefarious business that kept him occupied in the Room of Requirement, night after night? Saturnine hadn’t needed a magical map to ascertain Draco’s not-so-secret destination when he left the confines of his dorm. A concealment charm or two did the trick, and she followed him about the old castle a couple of times during his nightly pilgrimages to the seventh floor.

As a master of Disillusionment Charms, Saturnine was adept at noticing when other witches and wizards tried pulling the wool over her eyes. It had surprised her, one night, to discover that she wasn’t the only one keeping tabs on young Mister Malfoy’s illicit comings and goings. With an idea of who else might stalk the deserted hallways, she had sought to put her theory to the test.

Hogwarts’ sour Potions Master hadn’t disappointed, and he had predictably swooped in to rescue his godson with his typical intimidating intensity and poise.

Saturnine would never have dared stage such a close quarter interaction with Severus in broad daylight. But she had taken a chance in an unlit corridor, late at night. And she’d been on top of her game, too, shying away from the mean Potions Master as if she were a first-year student caught wandering the hallways after curfew. It didn’t hurt that in so doing, Saturnine moved further away from the corridor’s only light source.

It would take more than mere Invisibility Charms to determine what was going on with Draco, though. But stuck on the sidelines as she was, it would be hard for her to take a more proactive stance. For now, she could only hope that if it got too hard for the boy, he would have the good sense to seek his godfather’s help.

***

Saturnine’s worries for Lucius Malfoy’s son and heir peaked when the boy missed two consecutive days of classes a couple of weeks later. Coincidentally, his Head of House only showed up for lunch on the second day, and he missed all the other five meals. If the headmaster took notice, he didn’t comment on it. But Saturnine had realised that her brother was at his wit’s end. She hadn’t seen that level of tension in him in years. He was wound tighter than a spring, and she could only guess at what had happened to his godson to put him in such a state.

She got her answer when Draco rejoined the world of the living the next day. Though the boy tried to, he couldn’t hide the intermittent tremors coursing through his fingers—signs of a lengthy exposition to the Cruciatus Curse. And if the young Slytherin still bore signs of the curse’s aftereffects after having spent forty-eight hours in the care of the best potioneer she knew, it had been no quick introduction to the Unforgiveable Curse. Draco had been tortured, plain and simple. And Saturnine could think of only one wizard evil enough to want to do that to a child.

The dark-haired witch gave Headmaster Albus Dumbledore a piece of her mind that very evening. It didn’t matter that the boy’s father was a known Death Eater and that Draco’s own loyalties were in question. The young Slytherin wizard was sixteen years old and a student of this school, and as far as she was concerned, they had failed him.

The headmaster hadn’t liked to hear her opinions on Draco Malfoy any more than he had enjoyed hearing the ones she had about Harry Potter. And this discussion, too, ended with the slamming of a door.

***

It was under the cover of darkness that Saturnine and Remus committed their next bout of larceny a couple of days later. Apparating into Knockturn Alley straight from 12 Grimmauld Place, they clung to the shadows of the twisting cobblestoned alleyway like the thieves they were. Skulking around a corner, they cast Disillusionment Charms over themselves as they readied for their next step.

All of their research pointed towards old Salazar’s locket being a Horcrux, and it was high time they started looking for its current location. Saturnine was pretty sure that she knew the necklace’s story by now—from Merope Gaunt to Caractacus Burke, from Borgin and Burkes’ collection to Hepzibah Smith, from the antique collector’s dead fingers to Tom Riddle. She only needed evidence to support her claims and a lead to its current whereabouts.

Moving past the bulging front windows of Borgin and Burkes, silent as ghosts, Remus and Saturnine rounded the building to get to the back door. Though this was one of the least reputable establishments in Knockturn Alley, the wards on the property were much easier to disassemble than those of a Hogwarts Potions professor.

Taking care to muffle their steps, they crept inside, searching for the space where the owners kept their archives. Saturnine doubted it would be in the front section of the shop, between skulls, leering masks and otherwise cursed items. But it was more than likely that there would be a room around the back where they kept their bookkeeping.

It may have been a questionable idea to hope to find any kind of paperwork in an establishment such as this one. But Saturnine was aware of the boutique’s reputation at the Ministry. The Aurors had had their eyes on it since its grand opening in 1863. But to this day, they hadn’t been able to nail the owners down for anything. Borgin and Burkes was a legit business, and its bookkeeping had always been more than adequate—all i’s dotted, all t’s crossed.

Saturnine had no doubts that if they could administer that paperwork Veritaserum, it would reveal a truth or two. But as it stood, the deceit was so cleverly disguised that the Ministry had never been able to pin anything on either Mr Borgin or Mr Burkes’ backs.

“Found it,” Remus murmured from further down the hall.

Though she couldn’t see him, Saturnine followed the sound of his voice to the second-to-last door down the corridor they were in. Inside, she found a large room with serpentine lengths of shelves stacked from ceiling to floor with rows of boxes. Moving closer, she noted each one was impeccably labelled with its content and the year it concerned. Crooks they may be, she thought with a smirk, but they were also orderly to a fault.

“Purchases, 1926,” she told Remus, who ‘mm-hmmed’ in reply.

She went to search for information regarding past employees. In ‘Staff, 1940-1970’, she found the work contract seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle had signed. Attached to the last page was a manuscript note reporting that the shop assistant had abruptly deserted his position without giving due notice of resignation. She used a spell to duplicate both items before placing the originals back in the box.

She was about to open ‘Sales, 1961’ when the loud meowing of a cat made her freeze on the spot. It started softly enough, but three cries in, the noise turned into a right yowling. Moving towards the sound, Saturnine found a beastly-looking cat with shaggy dark-grey fur and yellow eyes. It was standing guard at the entrance of the room. Though the witch was still invisible to the naked eye, the mangy thing hissed at her.

“Time to go,” Remus said from close behind her.

At the werewolf’s arrival, the cat growled, even as the hair on its back stood on end. She wondered if it could smell the lycanthropic stain on Remus’ skin.

Saturnine debated momentarily paralysing the annoying feline, but the sound of footsteps echoing somewhere above her head told her it was too late.

“We’re leaving—now!” She started forward, sidestepping the cat who’d gone back to yowling like it was the end of the world.

The sound of reverberating footsteps was approaching, and soon enough, the entire corridor was bathed in a harsh white light. Saturnine started running, giving up on discretion in favour of speed. She was almost at the back door when a spell zinged past her left ear. It missed her by an inch, and she crouched as she barrelled forward, her long legs stomping hard on the hardwood floor. She prayed Remus was following and tried listening for his footsteps as she made it past the door and into the dark alleyway.

“Thief!” a loud voice bellowed behind them, “Thief!” The cries echoed off the cobblestones and disturbed the peaceful night.

Another jet of light flew past Saturnine, and she veered to the left as she ran down the alleyway. Though she was still invisible, the dark-haired witch chose not to run in a straight line. She zigzagged left and right all the way to Diagon Alley’s embranchment. Pushing forward until she saw the familiar columned entrance of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, she was relieved when the only other disturbance in the night was the thumping of Remus’ shoes on the cobblestones and his heavy panting.

There hadn’t been anymore spells thrown at them since they had entered Diagon Alley, and Saturnine suspected that whoever their pursuer was, he’d given up the chase. She took a sharp turn into a smaller street and kept running. It was only because of Remus’ pained, “Saturnine—need to—stop,” that she slowed down.

She stopped by a bookstore and used the light from its front window to search for her friend. She could tell he was close, but he was still invisible to her. “Finite Incantatem,” she murmured, accompanying the words with a flick of her wand, and both Disillusionment Charms lifted.

Remus was hunched in two, three feet to her left. He was panting as if he’d just run a mile—which he had. She was about to make a joke about getting in better shape when her friend straightened back up, and she caught sight of the blood on his fingers.

“Remus,” she said, hurrying forward. She pushed his hands away and discovered he’d been wounded on his left side. Whichever curse had gotten to him, he was bleeding profusely. He hissed when she tried to assess the wound.

“Time and place—Saturnine,” he said in a panting voice. “Much as I appreciate your—concern, perhaps we should—head back?”

Looking around and reminding herself of where she was, the dark-haired witch realised he was right. Taking a step closer, she grabbed a tight hold of his forearm to Apparate them both back to 12 Grimmauld Place.

The cut wasn’t deep, but it was wide, and she had better close it before her friend lost enough blood to warrant a trip to St. Mungo’s. Thankfully, the Order of the Phoenix’s headquarter was stacked to the roof with medicinal Potions and equipment. They had a room set aside just for that, equipped with a hospital bed and the fittings one would find in a cheap countryside clinic.

Saturnine was quick to get to work. She helped Remus shrug out of the black woollen jumper he’d been wearing before he leaned down on the sturdy medical bed. The old townhouse was predictably empty, save for one cantankerous house-elf, but Kreacher knew better than to bother them. And Saturnine did not need the pesky creature’s help. A few years back, she had rented a room at a Mediwitch’s place and sometimes helped her out with patients. She had seen her heal wounds worse than this one and felt confident she could replicate her actions.

“So, how are things going with Tonks?” Saturnine asked conversationally as she poured a little water on Remus’ wound to wash away the blood.

“Don’t,” Remus warned her, shivering lightly.

The temperature wasn’t cold; so, she figured it came from the blood loss rather than the fact he was shirtless. Glancing around, she spied a heavy blanket. Once she finished cleaning his wound, she placed it over the man’s legs and uninjured side. Then, returning to her task, she opened a phial of essence of Dittany. She poured a generous amount over the wound, wincing in sympathy with Remus when it touched his bleeding flesh.

“So, it’s all right for you to pry your nose into my relationships, but it isn’t for me to return the favour?” she demanded, closing the phial and placing it back on the nearest flat surface—a small trolley with plastic wheels. Leaning down, she inspected the wound closely to ensure it was free of dirt, tissue fibres, and other foreign objects. Satisfied, she moved to a nearby shelf to pick up a jar filled with a type of strong cicatrising paste she was familiar with. The spidery scrawl on the label left little doubt as to which Potions Master had prepared it.

Returning to Remus, Saturnine covered the wound with a thick layer of the green, gelatinous substance and watched as it magically solidified. It would help kick-start the cicatrisation process while ensuring no infection would occur.

As she worked, Saturnine kept the chatter up. In situations like these, any discussions were an excellent distraction from the pain—even unwanted ones. “You appear to like her.”

“I do,” Remus admitted, apparently resigned to participate in the conversation. “She’s got a kind soul.”

“She seems to like you, too,” the dark-haired witch pointed out as she cleaned her hands. After drying her fingers, she grabbed some gauze and set about carefully covering the solidified paste.

“She does,” Remus admitted with a sigh. “For some reason.”

“Good news all around,” she said, bandaging the man’s chest. “I say, go for it.”

The werewolf growled low, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of her ministration or her words. She pulled the blanket firmly over him and tucked the sides around his frame. Then, checking how much time had passed since the last dose, she uncorked another phial of Blood Replenisher, noting as she did that this, too, had been brewed by her brother’s expert hands.

“It isn’t for me,” Remus said after swallowing down the foul substance. “I tried telling her, but she doesn’t want to hear it.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?” Saturnine demanded. “Is it the potions talking?”

“You know what I mean.” Remus shook his head slightly, blinking owlishly. He was getting drowsy fast. “You know what I am.”

“Yes, I do.” She reached for a stool and sat down next to his torso. “And so does Tonks. And she’s still there, isn’t she?”

“That’s not—”

“Hush,” she said, placing two fingers on the stubborn wizard’s lips to stop him. Leaning down, she caught his heavy-lidded gaze. The time for restorative sleep wasn’t far ahead, but Saturnine was determined to finish their discussion first.

“My dear Remus, you know that if things had been different, you and I…” She willingly let the words hang. “I would have been happy to build a life with you. You’re a wonderful person and friend—and I always thought so. I’m pretty sure Tonks sees it, too.”

“It would never work; I could hurt her,” he said, looking pained despite the large dose of analgesic he had swallowed upon his arrival at 12 Grimmauld Place. “And what if she wants a family? I cannot even give her that.”

“In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never hurt anyone. You are the most careful werewolf I know. Besides, you have the potion now; there’s almost no risks anymore,” Saturnine reassured him, running her fingers through his sandy hair. “And you wouldn’t be the first werewolf to father a child.”

“But the risks…” Remus insisted, his words closer to a moan than an actual sentence.

“I know the odds. But you and Tonks could be amongst the lucky ones.”

“I can’t condemn a child, least of all mine, to the life I’ve had,” he said, eyes brimming with tears.

Saturnine felt a few of her own burn behind her eyelids when she thought of how much Remus had already suffered because of his affliction. His lycanthropy had already taken so much from him—would it also steal his chance at happiness?

“You should still give this relationship a chance, Remus.” She caressed his cheek tenderly. “You deserve to be happy.”

The werewolf said nothing. His eyelids were battling sleep and losing ground fast.

“I just want you to be happy,” Saturnine said again, leaning down to kiss his brow. Their gazes met for one last intense moment before sleep took over the wounded wizard.

Saturnine let out a deep wary sigh before rolling her tensed shoulders. She was in for a long, uncomfortable night, she knew. But there was no way she would leave her injured friend’s side.

The End.
Cornelius Fudge’s Magic Carpet by SaraJany

Saturnine wished she could have said that this was her first time breaking into the house of the Minister for Magic, but that would be lying. Well, Cornelius Fudge was only the former minister now. But Rufus Scrimgeour had been in office when she had let herself into his house a year ago.

There had to be a poetic, cosmic balance to that particular bout of larceny, she figured. After all, it was the Ministry of Magic that had taught her how to break into people’s homes. She had done it countless times under orders from Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour. She hadn’t enjoyed it one bit but had felt no such qualms when she let herself into her boss’ London townhouse one rainy day when she knew he’d be vacationing overseas.

Saturnine hadn’t found what she’d been looking for that evening, but there had certainly been skeletons in the surly wizard’s closets. If she were a less scrupulous witch, she might have put some of that knowledge to good use. But she had refrained, taking the high road. She did keep copies of the incriminating evidence, of course, knowing a day might come when the end would justify the means.

A different agenda motivated tonight’s burglary, though. The felony she and Remus were about to commit was part of the ‘war effort’. They would break into Cornelius Fudge’s home for the greater good, and she wondered if that ought to absolve them of all guilt. No, she figured, it certainly won’t save us from a trip to Azkaban, should the authorities catch us.

Under the cover of a new moon, the two Order of the Phoenix’s members Apparated two yards away from the former minister’s Yorkshire manor. The building was moderate-sized, and there were only two floors to the limestone and brick house. Saturnine surmised there shouldn’t be more than three or four bedrooms to sift through inside.

Creeping closer, staying close to an orchard, she noted that the surrounding terrain was far more impressive than the house itself. The manor had an elevated setting, and it had a commanding exterior of professionally landscaped gardens that included stone terraces and patios, lawns, and fruit trees.

“Not what I expected,” Remus muttered underneath his breath as he crouched low by an apple tree.

Saturnine took a similar stance next to him. “Hmm?”

“With everything that happened, I figured Fudge would have found a rock to crawl under to avoid the bad press and howlers,” he continued in the same tone. “Guess it pays well to be a minister.”

“That, and he descends from an old Pureblood family,” Saturnine told him.

Though Fudge’s reputation and image had been shattered when he became known as the idiot who stepped aside and allowed Lord Voldemort a second chance to destroy what the Wizarding community had tried so hard to rebuild, her eyes were dry. Saturnine would not be caught shedding any tears for the wizard whose cowardice, arrogance, and incompetence led him to become the most disgraced and least effective minister in British wizarding history.

And she knew full well what Remus’ feelings for the man were. No one had forgotten that Cornelius Fudge’s right-hand woman of many years was none other than the fanatically prejudiced Dolores Umbridge. The very witch whose anti-werewolf legislation had made it almost illegal for people like Remus to hold jobs. Umbridge’s madness was why her friend had been forced to live in poverty most of his life, working jobs far below his level of abilities, resigning and moving on to another before his workmates noticed his signs of lycanthropy. She cursed the toad of a woman inwardly. As if the fear and disgust with which wizarding society regards werewolves weren’t enough.

The murkiness of her thoughts made Saturnine place a comforting hand on Remus’ shoulder, and she heard him sigh softly. No doubt her friend’s mind strained in the same direction as hers. Add to that what Harry and the other professors had told her about Dolores Umbridge, and she would gladly introduce the witch to a few choice curses of her own.

“No one seems to be awake,” Remus remarked, gaze once again focused on the looming building ahead. “I suppose there won’t be a better time than this.”

Saturnine had felt queasy about asking the werewolf to tag along, especially after their recent mishap in Knockturn Alley. But she knew her friend would never have forgiven her if she’d gone behind his back. She stole a glance at her companion while he studied the manor. The wound at his side had healed nicely—she checked it daily for a week—and Remus seemed none the worse for wear. Still, she would have preferred it if he’d stayed in the safety of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“We ought to be careful, ’Nine.” Remus’ hushed tones broke through her musing. “The man may be a fool, but I’m afraid he might be the paranoid kind.”

Saturnine had to agree with that statement. Fudge had many shortcomings, one of which included a deep-seated paranoia. And it was her experience that suspicious wizards were something to be cautious of. They were often criminally stupid, yes—but they could be lethally dangerous, nonetheless.

“He will have wards all over the place,” the werewolf continued. “Probably not very strong ones—but numerous.”

Saturnine ‘mm-hmmed’ in agreement. She’d figured as much herself. Thankfully, while under Fudge’s regency at the Ministry, she had learned a thing or two about disassembling them.

“I’ll fly us up to the upper floor,” she said. “We can go in through a window; they’re usually a lot less warded than everything that’s on the ground floor.”

Remus didn’t look enthused at the prospect, but he nodded anyway. Saturnine wasn’t used to flying with company, but she had attempted the manoeuvre once or twice before. It was no more complicated to have the currents lift two people than one, but she always worried the person she was with would panic, flail about, and step away from the wind’s protective grasp.

Remus kept a tight lid on his panic, and the two landed with no trouble on an ornate balcony. A few charms of her device later, they discreetly slipped inside. The old manor was deathly quiet as the night-visitors crept along carpeted corridors. Saturnine focused her magic and whispered an incantation to produce the tiniest Lumos she could. It bathed the small parlour in which they found themselves in soft bluish light. And they quickly started looking around for the object of their query.

The search of her brother’s living room had revealed the existence of an old dagger that used to be Salazar Slytherin’s. Remus had found a note referencing it in one of Horace Slughorn’s old journals. Ever the socialite, Hogwarts’ former Potions professor had revealed in writing that the Minister of Magic once boasted to owning it during a reception they had both attended. The note had been scrawled between a potion recipe for an experimental blood coagulant and the guest-list for old Slughorn’s 1976 Christmas party.

Saturnine and Remus found nothing interesting in the stuffy parlour and resorted to searching through the rest of the manor. Two empty bedrooms proved as fruitless as the parlour had been. And soon enough, the upper floor only had one closed door left to be pushed open—the one leading to the master bedroom.

“Later,” Saturnine whispered, dearly hoping they wouldn’t have to resort to Stupefying Fudge and his wife to peek under their bed.

Silently, the dark-haired witch cast a powerful Silencing Charm on the master bedroom’s door before moving to the large spiralling staircase that stood near the centre of the house. The two Order members took the steps down and came upon a lavish sitting room. There was little light streaming in through the large bay window at the back of the oval space, and Saturnine pushed the weak ball of her Lumos Charm forward to better see her surroundings.

Remus, who was slightly ahead of her, had only gone two steps in when the carpet he treaded on seemed to come to life beneath his feet. Saturnine froze where she stood, perched on the last step of the stairs. Ahead of her, the old garish Persian rug undulated before dipping in the middle. It was as if the floor beneath it had turned into quicksand.

Remus lost his balance and would have fallen flat on his arse if his legs hadn’t been half-swallowed by the textile monster already. Saturnine lifted off the ground immediately. Hovering forward, she held out both hands to catch the werewolf’s desperately flailing arms.

“Hold on,” she urged as she grabbed hold of him.

Remus did, and their fingers clasped tightly. She pulled with all the strength she had while using the air in the room to help with the task. Whatever monstrosity had taken hold of the carpet was fighting for its prey with all its might. And for every inch of Remus that Saturnine won, the carpet swallowed back two.

“Got any thought?” she asked, feeling fear rise inside her.

Remus’ grasp on her fingers turned desperate, as did the look in his eyes. “Leverage,” he urged, contorting in pain as the wild yarns of wool wrapped around his waist. “Use ropes!”

“I’ll need a hand,” the witch said, moving closer. “Hold on to me!”

Remus did, reaching around her torso with both arms. Saturnine did her best to keep hold of him, grabbing a fistful of his black jumper to help pull him forward. Her wand fell into her right hand a moment later. Shouting a binding spell, she watched as a thick strand of rope shot from the length of her acorn wand. She directed it to the staircase bannister and watched as it looped itself neatly along the mahogany rail. Grabbing the untied end, she pocketed her wand again.

“I’ll need both hands,” she warned Remus, glancing down at him. The carpet had swallowed at least ten more inches of his torso in the last minute or so.

The thought clearly frightened the werewolf, but he nodded anyway. “I trust you,” he said through clenched teeth.

Saturnine caught his gaze and held it for an instant before releasing the fistful of cotton she’d been desperately holding onto. Remus squeezed her in return, his arms sneaking around her middle like a boa constrictor. She winced in pain but wasted little time ensuring the rope was securely tied. Looping it twice around her wrist for additional safety, Saturnine grabbed the length of nylon with both hands and pulled with all the strength she had in her arms and upper torso. At the same time, she bid the winds to propel their combined mass forward and away from the magical quicksand.

It was no easy task, and the witch clenched her teeth from the effort, feeling droplets of sweat pearl on her skin and run down her back. Remus was still holding onto her, his grasp painfully tight. Without looking down, she knew that he was in pain—she could tell by his laboured breathing and frequent gasps.

Giving it all she had, Saturnine pulled on the rope, even as she reached deep within until her blood sang with the surge of Elemental Magic. And inch by painful inch, the two moved forward and out of the bewitched carpet’s hold.

The rope chafed at Saturnine’ skin and burned the inside of her sweaty palms, but she paid it no mind. She kept pulling with severe determination. She would not let them move backwards—not this time. Every inch forward that she won was hers to keep, she decided. And so she kept pulling and pulling on the rope.

It took a short eternity to work their way free of the Persian monster’s grasp. It tried holding onto Remus’ shoes, wool yarns stretching high in the air, as they shot forward in a last-ditch effort to keep hold of its prey. But Saturnine’s resolve was stronger than the textile creature’s, and its resistance finally broke like an elastic band that had snapped in two. The momentum propelled both wizards forward at a rapid pace, and they hit the staircase with bone-crushing velocity. They landed in a heap atop each other, and Saturnine got the wind knocked out of her when Remus inadvertently elbowed her in the ribs. In return, one of her knees hit him in a most sensitive spot between his legs, and he let out a high-pitch shriek, not unlike his lupine counterpart’s nightly yowls.

“What the—hell was that—thing?” Saturnine asked, panting heavily. Sitting up, she tried working her legs free from beneath Remus’. The werewolf helped further by lifting his torso so she could remove the arm that had been crushed behind his back. The two Order members kept silent as they awkwardly detangled themselves before sitting down on two distinct steps.

“No idea,” Remus muttered as one of his hands moved south to massage his tender flesh and wounded pride.

“So sorry about that, old friend,” Saturnine apologised, unable to hold back a soft chuckle. The chagrined look the werewolf shot her in reply was priceless. “I hope there will be no—um, lasting damage?”

Remus shook his head before looking away, a deep blush rushing into his cheeks.

Standing up, Saturnine moved down the stairs, stopping on the last step. Ahead of her, the Persian rug looked idle again. “I’m not going anywhere near that thing again.”

“We still need to check the ground floor,” Remus said, standing up with a grunt of effort. He came down but stopped three steps shy of the ground floor.

She quirked an amused eyebrow up at his caution. “Give me a minute to catch my breath, and I’ll take off again.”

“I don’t fancy letting you search alone.” Remus looked chagrined at the idea. “Merlin knows what other trap that paranoid idiot might have waiting for us.”

She agreed with him there, but they had to look. The mission was too important for them to give up. “I’ll be careful. I won’t touch a thing; I’ll just hover about.”

“You better be, ’Nine. I’ll have a hard time getting to you with that,” he waved a hand about, “monstrosity standing in the way.”

Lifting off the floor, Saturnine bid the winds to carry her forward slowly. The living room consumed half of the entire ground floor, and it would take time to search around the numerous shelves that lined its walls. There were also two cupboards and a large trunk on the side opposite the bay windows; those would also have to be thoroughly searched.

Flying past a large leather sofa, Saturnine froze mid-air and did a double take. Maybe it won’t be that hard, after all, she thought as her gaze settled on the large fireplace mantle facing her. There it was: the dagger they were after. It was ensconced in a fancy glass display that had been stuck to the white stucco paint.

Hovering closer, Saturnine was careful not to touch anything on her way. Directing the winds to keep her in a stationary position ahead of the fireplace, she reached a hand forward to let her fingers ghost over Salazar’s heirloom. She didn’t let herself touch it, though—the memory of Dumbledore’s cursed hand vivid in her memory.

Using all of her senses, Saturnine sought out the Dark Magic she expected to find but caught nothing. Frowning, she reached for her wand to cast a few examining spells. But however hard she tried, she couldn’t detect a single trace of malice to the old artefact. It was just a dagger, it would seem. Elegant, refined, expensive—precious to some—but worthless to her.

This was no Horcrux, she realised. She and Remus had risked their lives for nothing tonight. And the Order of the Phoenix was nowhere closer to causing the fall of Lord Voldemort.

The End.
The Harsh Realities of Life by SaraJany

The school year was nearing its end too quickly, and all Saturnine and Remus had to show for it was the most accurate unofficial biography of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. They had hoped by now that they would have found at least one Horcrux but had had no such luck.

Though Saturnine was certain that the Dark Lord had used the locket to secret away a piece of his soul, she did not know where the ancient relic was. She had tracked it down through the centuries from the time of Salazar Slytherin himself until 1961, but then she’d lost its trace. She also had a few leads on other items Lord Voldemort could have used, but these, too, were lost in the wind.

It was with these thoughts weighing heavily on her mind that Saturnine went to bed on May 27th after another long evening of poring over old Ministry reports with Remus. She was awoken three hours later by the security gong of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry expectantly resonating.

The dark-haired witch was out of her bed in a flash, retrieving her acorn wand from beneath her pillow, and charming her usual clothes on. There was no time to waste in applying layer upon layer of makeup tonight, and she chose the quicker solution of pulling up a Glamour Charm. It was a risky move—she knew some really powerful wizards could see through glamours, or at the very least detect their presence—but she had no other choice. If put to the test, her quick charms wouldn’t last long, but she couldn’t be seen gallivanting about the school with her real face on, either. She did put on the contact lenses and earrings, though, but switched to a sturdier pair of shoes in case she was expected to fight.

Her first thought was to see to Harry’s safety. Wand in hand, Saturnine rushed to the Grand Staircase, planning on going up Gryffindor Tower at a run. What she hadn’t planned for was the sound of feet rushing down the same staircase, one or two floors below. Getting dangerously close to the bannister, she peered over to take a look. The coattails of two strangers—a man and a woman, she thought—disappeared into the first-floor corridor. Saturnine briefly wondered why they would go there. At this time of night, there was nothing of interest on that floor, save for some empty classrooms and the closed-off library. Then it clicked: the tapestry.

Cursing between her lips, she changed direction and returned to the third-floor landing. If these intruders were former Hogwarts students, chances were high they knew some of the old castle’s secret passageways. Such as the one hidden behind an old tapestry on the first floor’s corridor, which led to a twisting staircase heading straight to the vicinity of the front doors. With the head start the two outsiders had, there was no way she could get to them in time—if she played by the rules, of course.

Throwing the nearest window open, Saturnine climbed up the ledge before throwing herself into the black void. It was a pleasant night, she discovered, as she manipulated the winds to move away from the castle walls and towards the front of the building. Clouds hung low in the sky, hiding half the stars and the waning moon, but there was still enough light to navigate by.

The dark-haired witch made a large circle around the most western tower before coming round to the entrance. It might have looked as if she was flying, but it was more akin to gliding. Flying was for birds and required their movement. As it was, Saturnine simply bid the air to support her mass and manipulated the currents so she could follow them to her destination.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she neared the front entrance of the castle. The heavy double doors were open. Slightly increasing her altitude, Saturnine looked around to search for the two strangers but found no one. Either they had gone already, or they had cast Disillusionment Charms on themselves to cover their escape. One way or the other, it was time for Saturnine’s feet to touch solid ground again. Above her, windows after windows were lighting up in the old castle’s facade. And it wouldn’t be long until frightened students peered through them to try and determine what was occurring.

Landing near the main steps, Saturnine looked up towards Gryffindor Tower, her eyes narrowing on the windows of Harry’s dorm room. The lights were on there, too. But no one was at the window. She entered the castle, intent on returning to her plan of climbing the lions’ tower at once. She was surprised to stumble on Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall in the middle of the hall. Her brother was there, too, and she could see Professor Sprout coming in from the opposite end of the hallway. It looked as if her plans would have to wait. And she schooled her expression into something more neutral before approaching them.

The headmaster turned towards her at once. If Dumbledore was surprised to know she’d been outside, he didn’t let it show. “Anything, my dear?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. They’ve gone, sir.” After a pause, she remembered noticing something as she took flight earlier. “But the doors to the Astronomy Tower were open.”

“Is that how they got in?” McGonagall asked. “They ought to have locked automatically after curfew. How could this be?”

Not sure if they used it to get in or out, she thought to herself. Whatever nefarious mission this had been, it sounded unlikely that only two Death Eaters would have carried it out. But if the others had come with brooms; maybe they had fled from the Astronomy Tower’s platform. There were also dark spells that would have allowed them to fall to the grounds safely, away from prying eyes.

Professor Vectra and Hagrid soon joined them, and they started asking question upon question. Saturnine stole a glance at her brother. Despite his controlled countenance, Severus looked as worried as she was. She caught a slight twitch of his fingers and the shuffling of a shoe, and she recognised the signs. He desperately wanted to be elsewhere, and she echoed his sentiment.

Around them, the enquiring voices grew, and Saturnine wished the staff members would stop with their panicky questioning and start thinking more rationally. In the periphery of her vision, she saw Severus dangerously tightening his lips and feared an explosion.

“Quiet!” she ordered, the word tumbling from her mouth with little conscious effort on her part. A surge of her magic accompanied it—not so much an uncontrolled burst as a necessary release of pressure. Her brother wasn’t the only one with more pressing matters on his mind, after all.

That caught everyone’s attention—Hogwarts’ Potions Master included—and the chatter mercifully died down.

“Our colleague’s right,” Dumbledore said, coming back to his senses. “We all need to calm down. The threat has passed. Professor Vectra, Hagrid—can you see to the students? Make sure they all stay in their dorms.”

At last, Saturnine felt like saying, but she held off the thought. Vectra and Hagrid left at once, and the headmaster turned on his heel.

“Everyone else—my office, if you please,” he instructed.

They were halfway to the stairs when Professor Flitwick’s squeaky voice stopped them cold. The short-legged half-goblin teacher approached them as quickly as his tiny body would allow. His face was red with exertion, and his thin wand shook in his trembling hand.

“The children,” he said, panting heavily as he made himself catch up with their group. “They took the children.”

At his words, Saturnine’s blood ran colder than the dried-up trail of blood on Flitwick’s temple.

“Which ones?” Dumbledore asked as the half-goblin finally reached them.

Saturnine held her breath like everyone else. Call it motherly instinct, but part of her already knew which name would tumble from the shorter man’s lips. Somehow, it would be Harry—it would be her son.

Her former Head of House painfully wheezed out the words between laboured pants, “Harry Potter—and—Draco Malfoy.”

Though Saturnine had known it was coming, the news still felt like an ice pick had been plunged through her heart. It took everything she had not to scream in rage—to focus on the rest of the conversation as if she wasn’t personally involved. It was only her need to gather more information that allowed her to keep a modicum of self-control.

“It was Bellatrix Lestrange,” the Charms professor said. “She attacked us on the fourth floor—I tried fighting her off, but she got the best of me.” He paused to draw breaths and swayed dangerously on his tiny legs. Professor Sprout took a step closer to him and offered a steadying hand.

“Knocked me right off my feet,” Flitwick continued. “I sounded the alarm when I came to, but she was gone—took the boys with her.”

“Thank you, Filius,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sure you have done everything you could.” Then, addressing Professor Sprout, he added, “Pomona, will you see him to the infirmary?”

The Herbology teacher nodded at once, and she helped her colleague make it to the stairs. The headmaster led the way to his office once more, followed closely by Professor McGonagall.

Saturnine fully expected Severus to follow suit, but the tall Potions Master stood rooted to the spot. She chanced a glance at his face as she started following the others down the hall. The hollowness she discovered in her brother’s gaze made her freeze by his side.

“Severus?” she whispered low enough that Dumbledore and McGonagall wouldn’t hear her.

Her demand earned her no reaction from the Potions Master, and her worry grew. As she had during their childhood, she reached for his elbow to get him moving. He followed her direction dutifully, like a mindless puppet.

In Saturnine’s mind, a kaleidoscope of images and sounds replayed memories of her younger self directing a similarly disconnected dark-haired boy. She wasn’t sure of the clinical term for what was happening, but she knew Severus had just lost himself within his head. He’d retreated so far inwardly that nothing reached him anymore.

She had seen it happen a couple of times before when her brother was a kid, and things had gotten really bad at home. When their father was at his absolute worst, this was the only coping mechanism Severus’ battered body had found to shelter itself. It shut his perception off from the harsh realities of life in a last-ditch effort to protect the heart and soul within. It sometimes took hours afterwards for him to return to reality. And seeing her brother in such a vulnerable state could scare Saturnine like little else. Every time this happened, she stood vigil by his side until his awareness returned. And even then, she had a hard time letting go of him again.

She’d had no idea this still happened now that Severus was an adult. She had thought he was doing better, but apparently, she’d been deceived like everyone else. The wounded little boy she once knew was still there—hidden away underneath the flowing black robes and stern-looking frock coat—and he was in pain. It broke her heart to realise that, and if the circumstances were different, she would be hugging him now. As it was, she only allowed herself to rub his back comfortingly, hoping that some of it would get through to him.

“Come now dear, we’re leaving,” she murmured in the same soothing voice she used back then. Urging her brother forward, she made sure not to walk too fast so they would remain out of earshot from the others. “It’s going to be all right; just breathe.”

Dumbledore and McGonagall seemed so preoccupied with their discussion that they never noticed the pair lagging behind.

Once they had all reached the headmaster’s office, Saturnine led the Potions Master to a seat and poured him a stiff drink. She was certain he would need it when the world returned to him in its full, unforgiving palette. McGonagall gave her a strange look at that, but the headmaster seemed to understand.

That done, Saturnine retreated to the shadows near the bookshelves as she wondered how to get her son back. She knew she would go to impossible lengths to see Harry safely home. Severus’ godson was missing, too. And she had seen ample evidence all year round of just how far her brother would go to get him back. She wasn’t sure if anything united them anymore. But they had, at the very least, been given a common goal.

Professor Leen Nine was drawing her last breaths, Saturnine knew. One way or another, the masquerade would end before the next sunrise. The unveiling of the truth would come as a shock to Severus, though. And she dearly hoped his aching, battered soul could take one more hit, for she sure as hell would need his help tonight.

The End.
End Notes:
Thanks for reading this story.

The Familia Ante Omnia saga is almost over. There is one more story left which I will publish on Sunday.

Thanks for your continued appreciation and support of this story and its characters.
Much love to you all,

—Sara.

P.S: As always, you can download fully-formatted copies of each book for safekeeping, on my website. They are absolutely free and come in various popular formats (ePub, mobi, pdf).

https://sarajany.wordpress.com


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