"Harry? Hey! You're going to miss breakfast, you lazy—hey!" Harry woke up to insistent shaking, and a very exasperated voice.

"Mm? Wha—" His head felt heavy and foggy, and his scar was burning. He blinked repeatedly, and Ron came into focus out of a blur of red.

Once he'd put his glasses on, he saw that Ron was frowning. "You all right, mate?"

"Yeah," he muttered, untangling the bed clothes. "Just a little thick-headed."

Ron waited while he got dressed. "You looked upset when you got back last night. Did something happen in…detention?"

"Just Snape being Snape," Harry assured him, forcing a smile.

He was still in a lousy mood for most of the day Tuesday, to the point where he decided to go talk to Remus. But adding insult to injury, he arrived at Professor Lupin's office and realized it was full moon starting that night. Remus had looked peaky during class that morning, and now he would be gone until Friday.

Harry was leaving the empty room, feeling very cross, when Professor Smythe-Wellington came in. "What are you doing here, Mr. Potter?"

"I was looking for Professor Lupin," Harry said crossly.

"Indeed?" she said, raising an eyebrow, her tone faintly disbelieving. "You have noticed it is full moon, have you not?"

"I have now," Harry muttered, and stalked out to avoid giving her a chance to say anything else.

And, predictably, she got him for it the next day when he arrived in NEWT Defense and found her substituting for Lupin. "You're in for it now," Ron muttered at him. "She's looking right at you."

Smythe-Wellington stood up, running a haughty gaze over all of them. "I understand that Professor Lupin has been instructing you in matters of psychological defense." She was answered by a few nods. "In keeping with that subject, today we shall be discussing emotional discipline. Those of you in Specialized Defense will note that we begin this same lesson in Friday's class as well. Now. Who can describe to me the meaning of emotional discipline?"

Hermione very tentatively raised her hand. "It means…not letting ourselves be provoked?" She glanced sideways at Harry, and he felt a little prickle of irritation.

Smythe-Wellington had noticed the glance, and her lips twitched slightly. "Partially correct, Miss Granger, but you must go further. Particularly in a combat situation, what does emotional discipline manifest as?" No one answered, but she seemed to have expected that. "Detachment."

Harry was honestly puzzled. How could you be "detached" when someone was trying to kill you?

On the other hand, it was incredibly easily to "detach" himself from listening as Smythe-Wellington began lecturing—all class long, on the subject of emotional discipline, until Harry, Ron, and most of the class were lulled into a stupor. It was easily the most boring class he had ever sat through since History of Magic with Professor Binns (even Hermione had dropped that course after fifth year.) Their eyes were drooping, and there were even a few stifled snores coming from the back of the room when Smythe-Wellington finally glanced at the clock.

"Well. It is now five minutes until the end of class, and I am dismayed to see how very few of you have even registered what I said—let alone put it to use. And when I teach, if a lesson fails to be grasped by students, there are consequences." Harry and the others blinked awake, startled, and Smythe-Wellington smirked. "Rest assured, ladies and gentlemen, I have been keeping track of who has paid attention. And based upon that, I am deducting seventy points from Slytherin, forty points from Hufflepuff, thirty points from Ravenclaw, and sixty points from Gryffindor." She looked directly at Harry when she finished.

Fortunately, the bell rang, and Hermione dragged Harry out the door before he could say anything that would dock them more points. "That wasn't fair!" he raged as they went down the hall. "Half the Slytherins were outright asleep!"

"Well, you almost were," Hermione said timidly.

Ron shook his head. "Harry's right; we didn't deserve that big a drop. And she looked right at him! I think she's got it in for him!"

Scooting between Ron and Harry, Hermione told them, "Haven't you noticed? Everything she does has a reason: the puzzles, the exercises, even the boring lectures. She's trying to get us to think like Aurors. That's what lots of us want, remember?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah, she's just trying to whip you ito shape, Harry. Must think you've got potential."

"Oh, that explains everything!" Harry laughed along with Ron, athough Hermione looked disapproving. Shaking off his indignance, Harry said, "Is Professor McGonagall teaching this hour? I need to report something."

Forgetting all about Smythe-Wellington and the lessons, Hermione sucked in her breath. "Another dream?"

He nodded. "Pretty mild, but it might be useful."

But to Harry's intense dismay, there was a class with Professor McGonagall, and he didn't know how to find Professor Dumbledore. So he dragged himself down to the Dungeons and knocked on the door of Snape's office.

"Enter." Harry did, and Snape bared his teeth at him. "Well, Potter, what catastrophe have you caused now?"

He was not in the mood for this. "I'm reporting a dream, sir."

"Well?" Harry described it as quickly as possible, taking care to leave nothing out. Snape's face betrayed no reaction, but when Harry had finished, he said, "I suppose you've told your fan club?"

"Ron and Hermione know I had one, but not what was in it, if that's what you mean," Harry growled. Quidditch practice two days this week, DA on Thursday, Remus gets back Friday…

Snape sneered at him. "You will continue practicing and report this evening. Now leave."

Harry didn't have to be told twice.

With Remus gone, Wednesday was just as bad, and Thursday was worse. Smythe-Wellington was absolutely beastly, and having her every day was a nightmare. And she did seem to have it in for Harry. In Curse Defense, she gave them another round of those horrible drills that centered solely around how to draw one's wand, and paid particular attention to everything Harry did wrong. Malfoy she simply docked points from and gave detention, but it was Harry who once again had to do the bloody thing over and over in front of everyone until he thought his arm would fall off and he was so livid that two windows spontaneously shattered.

For that, he got detention.

He never would have imagined dreading anything as much as Occlumency with Snape, but after half an hour of getting his brain peeled apart in the dungeons, he had to trudge back upstairs to Smythe-Wellington's office, and found himself almost wishing the Occlumency had lasted longer.

Smythe-Wellington's office looked like a small library; the walls were simply bookshelves. Harry could see no sign that the room was occupied by a renowned Auror: no medals, awards, or commemorations of any kind, although Hermione would probably love an office like this.

"Don't hover in the doorway, Potter, come in," said a terse voice from a figure bent over some essays. Harry sighed to himself and obeyed. Smythe-Wellington put down her quill and folded her hands on the massive desk, watching him with critical eyes. "Do you know why you are here?"

Harry met her gaze coldly. "To serve detention."

One side of her mouth twitched. "And the reason you were given detention?"

"Because I broke a window."

She let out a snort of quiet laughter. "False ignorance is neither clever nor becoming, Mr. Potter. Try again."

His jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break. "Because I lost my temper."

She raised one eyebrow. "And?"

"And…" And what? Enough with the bloody mind games! "I don't know."

With an air of faint disbelief, Smythe-Wellington said, "You don't know?"

"No," he ground out.

Harry's blood was boiling—and now, so was the tea in the cup on Professor Smythe-Wellington's desk. She watched it emit great puffs of steam and bubble like a hot spring for a moment, then said softly, "You are an immensely powerful wizard, Mr. Potter."

It was the first thing Harry had heard from her that even remotely resembled a compliment. He blinked in surprise.

"Sit," she said. He did. She steepled her fingers and told him, "You are not here merely because of your temper. Manifestations such as these," she indicated the still-steaming teacup, "are indicative of two characteristics: strong innate magical talent—power in its rawest form—and dangerous lack of emotional control. You will find that unless you learn to check the latter, the former will go to waste."

Now having difficulty controlling the hot little fire of hope burning inside of him, Harry asked, "But does that mean…I'm strong enough to be an Auror?"

Smythe-Wellington snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "Strength of the magical variety has little to do with it. Where you now stand, Mr. Potter, no. You are not strong enough to be an Auror." Harry's heart sank—fast. Smythe-Wellington drove on, "You are powerful, yes, but so undisciplined as to make what talents you possess useless for real Defense. I despise waste, Mr. Potter, and at the moment, you are a waste of both talent and my time. That is why you are in detention."

Could that day possibly have gone any worse? By the time Harry had finished the assorted menial tasks Smythe-Wellington had given him for detention (and the critiques from her that went along with them) he was convinced he would be better off if Voldemort just offed him and got it over with, because his life would never amount to anything.

He was dragging himself back to Gryffindor Tower when he saw Professor Lupin coming down the hall, presumably on his way back from the Shrieking Shack now that the full moon had waned. Remus looked especially haggard, but he smiled when he saw Harry. That alone brought a lump to Harry's throat.

"Hello, Harry. You're out late—I say, are you all right?" Remus quickened his steps in concern.

Harry swallowed thickly and forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just…bad day."

Stopping and leaning casually against the corridor wall, Remus asked, "Do you want to talk?"

"No, that's okay," Harry muttered, embarrassed. "It's nothing, really." Remus looked skeptical; Harry's voice had cracked. "Really, I…just school stuff, and you're tired, and I've got…homework…" he babbled as he started shuffling away.

"All right," said Remus. "If you're sure. But if you change your mind, I'll be in my office for the next few hours."

Harry nodded weakly and hurried away. But when he got back to the common room, Ron and Hermione pounced on him. "What happened in detention?" Ron demanded. "She didn't use any dodgy quills or anything, did she?"

"I can't imagine she'd use methods like Umbridge," said Hermione.

"She's crazy! Crazy! There was no call for her harassing Harry like that—Malfoy was worse!" Ron retorted. "And what's a gunslinger?"

"Long story. Well, Harry? What happened?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged and fell into a chair. "She just had me rearranging books and told me I'm a waste of time and not good enough to be an Auror."

Both of their jaws dropped. "I can't believe it," Hermione said. "She wouldn't say that!"

Harry nodded bitterly. "She says I'm undisciplined and too emotional."

Ron threw up his hands. "Everyone's emotional—except her and Snape, that is! Well matched pair, those two—"

"Ronald! Don't take it to heart, Harry."

"I may as well just drop this class."

"Oh no!" Hermione protested. "You need it to get into the Auror Program!"

"What, did you miss that last bit?" Harry snapped. "I haven't got a prayer, according to Smythe-Wellington."

Hermione glared at him. "Don't get cross with me. Snape's been calling you every name in the book for years, and you knew not to believe him. Are you going to let Smythe-Wellington's criticism discourage you?"

"What?"

But now Ron was nodding. "She's got a point; who cares what that crazy old bat says? Don't give up."

"My failing the class won't get me into the Auror program," Harry grumbled.

Hermione grabbed his arm urgently. "Then don't! Think about what she's teaching, Harry! Try to keep your feelings under control so things don't get to you so much. That's something you need for…the war…anyhow."

"I don't…know…how!" Harry ground out, furious and frustrated. "Everyone wants me to do this thing, but no one ever bothers to explain how it's done. I'm bloody sick of just being expected to know!"

"Hey! Don't yell at her, mate, she's just trying to help!" Ron said sharply.

"It can't be that difficult to control your temper, Harry," Hermione added tightly.

"Oh, sod off!" Harry shot to his feet and headed for the portrait hole. "I've had enough lectures for one day!"

As he stormed out, he heard Hermione mutter, "I rest my case."

Twenty minutes later, he found himself standing in front of Professor Lupin's office with no idea how he'd gotten there. But he was more miserable and frustrated than ever, and even though he dreaded Lupin's gentle understanding (the lump in his throat was painful enough already) he wanted to see someone who wouldn't make him feel inadequate. Funny how you could both want and fear something so much, he mused as he stood outside the office door—not to mention how knocking on a door could seem so difficult.

The door opened. Harry jumped. Remus was standing there with an amused look on his tired face. "I heard footsteps," he explained. "Come in." Harry did so quickly, with a rush of gratitude that forced him to keep his eyes on the floor. Why wouldn't his stupid throat stop being so tight? He could feel Remus's eyes on him as he sat down at a random desk. "I heard about your detention."

Harry buried his face in his arms, clenching his teeth painfully to keep from dissolving like a baby right there. But when Remus put a hand on his shoulder, he couldn't help the way his breath hitched. "You can do this, Harry. I know you can."

"She doesn't think so," Harry muttered.

"Then prove her wrong. I know how hard it is to master emotions at this age, even under normal circumstances. But you can do it."

Harry whispered, "I don't know how. I can't even do it for Occlumency."

"I've been thinking, actually, I may be able to help on that score. But it'll take patience, and real effort on your part."

Harry looked up at Remus, wide-eyed. "You could teach me?"

Remus grinned. "Sorry, are you very averse to the idea?"

"Of course not!" The lump was finally going away, but sheer relief was making Harry's eyes sting. "I—to learn—to have lessons from someone who doesn't hate me—"

Laughing, Remus said, "Oh, Priscilla Wellington doesn't hate you. She merely fails to relate easily to anyone who is not an Auror—nor does she have much tolerance for rule-breaking, whatever the reasons behind it."

Harry grinned. "Then how do you explain Snape?"

"Well…" Remus chuckled, then shook his head. "Professor Snape hates everyone—himself most of all. But Professor Smythe-Wellington holds no malice for you. She's an important and loyal supporter for our side."

"Is she in the Order?" asked Harry in surprise.

"No, although I suspect she knows of us and could join if she wished. But she prefers to remain entirely inside the law, and heaven knows she's caused Lord Voldemort more than enough difficulty in her capacity as an Auror. She saw him kill her husband during the first war."

For the first time, Harry felt a flicker of affinity for the harsh Defense professor. "That's awful. Was her husband an Auror too?"

"Oh yes. Charles Wellington, one of the legends. It was one of the most tragic battles; they were quite a team, those two. Their Auror division was given false information that led to a trap; six were killed. Mad-Eye Moody led the reinforcements that prevented that fight from being a massacre." Remus sighed. "That was when we truly began to fear Lord Voldemort might destroy our side. It was just a year before your parents died; so many were murdered during those last months."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. "That must have been terrible."

Remus smiled sadly and nodded. "Now you see why Molly Weasley and others are so frightened for their families. So few came out of the first war intact." Then he shook his head. "Well, I was hoping you'd come because I wanted to cheer you up, and this isn't helping. I've got something to show you."

Harry gaped as Remus went to his desk and brought back Dumbledore's Pensieve. "What's that for?"

Remus set it down carefully in front of Harry. "We—Sirius and I—were planning to do this when you came to Grimmauld Place at the end of your fifth year." He gave Harry a sad smile. "It was his idea, actually, when we saw how that memory of Professor Snape's had upset you. Sirius thought you'd feel better seeing us in one of our, shall we say, prouder moments."

Harry stared at the Pensieve. "You mean…"

"This is one of my memories," Remus confirmed. "A very fond one. Sirius is in it, of course; he had planned to show it to you himself."

"Is Peter Pettigrew there?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Remus. "Although, what you must remember is that the Peter you will see is not the one who betrayed us. This Peter's just a boy, and still a good one in my belief. Sirius was a bit less charitable—not that I blame him—but in my mind, we lost our Peter as surely as every other good person who died during the war."

"I suppose," said Harry, though he privately agreed with Sirius. Still, above all, he was bursting with curiosity. "May I look?"

"Dive in," said Remus. Harry did.

Harry found himself in the Gryffindor common room. Three boys were huddled together at a table, and he realized with a thrill of excitement that it was Sirius, Remus, and Wormtail. He didn't see his father, but assumed James Potter would be along shortly.

"Come on, Remus!" Sirius was pleading, trying to tug away the book in Remus's hands.

"Do you two mind terribly? I'm trying to study!" Remus complained, taking it back.

"Doomsday's not for nine months," Sirius said dismissively. "And you'll never forgive yourself if you miss this momentous occasion."

"I doubt that. Besides, she'll say no again," Remus replied.

Wormtail was shaking his head. "No, no, this is it! I can feel it, I tell you! It has to be. If only to make him go away, she'll say yes."

"And if we ruin his chances, he'll never forgive us," Remus pointed out, finally closing the book and facing his friends. "So let him alone!"

"No!" Laughing, Sirius and Wormtail grabbed the protesting Remus and dragged him by the arms from his chair, propelling him down the stairs.

But Remus let himself be persuaded. "Where are they?"

"He's asking her when the Runes Club meeting is over," said Sirius.

Wormtail laughed. "I can't believe he joined that just to get close to a girl."

Sirius thumped him. "The lad's in love; lay off him. Here! Come on!" They hurried into a dead-ending corridor and eyed a closed door. "Besides, he's good at Ancient Runes. If he'd tried to join the Fortune Tellers Society, she'd have caught on."

Remus relaxed at last against the wall, grinning. "Remember when he got her to give him a Tarot reading?"

"Last year at Halloween, you mean? I know it took him three tries to get her to do it, but what'd she predict?" Wormtail screwed up his face in thought.

"Ah…he would live well, die a hero, and his name would be legend," Sirius said. "And she was rather disappointed; I think she'd hoped to see downfall and ruin or something."

"Shh!" Remus suddenly hissed, and they dove for cover in an empty classroom as a door across the hall opened.

Students began filtering out as Harry realized suddenly that his heart was pounding. A girl with long red hair, older and even prettier than she'd been in Snape's memory, came out first, absently tucking a parchment into her book bag. "Oy! Uh, I mean, Evans, is this yours?"

The girl paused as the other students wandered on down the hall. James Potter, his hair a little less messy and looking a lot less confident, hurried out after her, holding a Remembrall. "Oh," she shook her head and took it. "Ironic that I'd forget that. Thanks." She started to go, but the smoke turned red. "Oh dear."

James was fidgeting nervously. "Er…you did say you'd lend me that translation of—"

"Oh, right! Sorry!" Lily grabbed the parchment she'd been putting away and handed it to him. He didn't look at it, but she was too distracted to notice. "Sorry, with all the NEWT preparations, I'm forgetting everything else lately." She smiled, though it seemed more a general smile at her own absent-mindedness than at James, but he still blushed.

"Say, uh, Evans?" James asked quickly as she started to walk away.

"Hm?" She paused.

"I…ah…this weekend's the first Hogsmeade visit, isn't it—I mean, I know it is, and I…er…Iwantedtoknowifyouwantedtogo," he babbled out.

Lily blinked. "You mean with you?" James nodded, his face cherry red, and she sighed, though the idea didn't seem to revolt her as it had two years before. "Honestly, you never give up—"

"I mean it!" James protested. "I mean…I haven't not meant it, well, I mean, it's not a joke like…well, it wasn't before, but…I mean it," he muttered, looking at the floor. Then he dared a glance at her face. "Please?"

Lily looked first confused, then surprised, then she too began to blush. "Well…all right then."

"What? I mean, you will?" James looked stunned—and delighted.

With a sheepish smile, Lily nodded. "Yes, I will."

THUD! "Oh…damn! Shh!" Voices from the nearby classroom and the noise of someone crashing into the door made Lily, James, and Harry jump. They gaped in astonishment to see Sirius Black sprawled half-in, half-out of the doorway across the hall, and a mortified Remus and Wormtail peering down at him. Sirius looked at James and Lily and groaned. "Oh no."

"I might have known!" Lily exploded. "James Potter, why did I ever let myself think you'd grown up? Of all the juvenile, obnoxious, uncouth—"

She stormed off down the hall as James stared after her, looking devastated. He looked down at the parchment she'd given him, then at his friends. "James…" Remus whispered, aghast.

James' expression changed from anguish to utter betrayal, and he stepped back as Remus and Wormtail started toward him. Sirius was staring after Lily. "Well. That'll never do," he remarked, then jumped up and took off around the corner after her. "Evans! HEY! Evans, wait, you don't understa—OW! Please, just listen—AAH! All right, you've asked for it!"

From out of sight came a shriek of sheer outrage. "AAUUGH! SIRIUS BLACK, YOU BLOODY—PUT ME DOWN!!! GET OFF! LEGGO!"

And so Sirius came stumbling back into the dead-ending corridor with a furiously-screaming Lily Evans slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Remus and Wormtail had to grab James as he lunged forward, murder in his eyes. "Black, I will kill you for this—let her go, you bloody swine, haven't you bloody done enough already?!"

Between the two of them, Lily's and James' shouts caused such a racket that it was a wonder the entire school didn't turn out. As it was, Remus, Wormtail, and Sirius could not even begin to explain themselves over the din, and they could barely keep their respective charges restrained. Finally, Sirius managed to pull out his wand with one hand while keeping Lily aloft with the other, and took aim at James. "Petrificus Totalis!"

That cut off James' half of the cacophony, and then Sirius aimed over his shoulder at Lily. "Silencio! Whew! Much better. I do apologize, Evans, under normal circumstances I wouldn't dream of manhandling a lady, but this is rather important." He deposited her carefully on her feet, but kept his wand trained on her. She glared at him, shaking with fury, her green eyes blazing. "Now. You're going to listen to our explanation whether you like it or not. Oh, Peter, Evans dropped her wand just round the corner, run and fetch it for her, would you?"

Wormtail scrambled to do so. "Here it is, and your bag, er," he set them down a safe distance from the livid redhead. "Sorry."

Sirius nodded thanks and turned calmly back to her. "All right, Evans, what it boils down to is this: what happened just now with James was not a joke. He didn't know we were here…actually, the truth is, he entrusted his three best friends with the momentous news that he was asking a fair lady for the sublime honor of her company in Hogsmeade this Saturday…and said very poor friends decided to go spy on him. As you see, this social gaffe is the result."

Lily noticed for the first time the petrified James and frowned in confusion. Sirius went on, "So. If you want to hate us, please do, but don't blame James. None of this is his fault. Now, I shall return your wand, and you may hex us as you see fit—well, just hex me, all right? The whole ruddy disaster was my idea."

With that, Sirius took Lily's wand back from Wormtail and handed it to her. She took it, but pointed impatiently at her mouth. "Oh, sorry. Finite."

Lily huffed out a sigh, but turned toward Remus, putting her hands on her hips. "Lupin?" she asked curtly.

"It's true," Remus said firmly. "It's not James' fault. Don't change your mind about going out with him just because we're stupid," he pleaded.

Now genuinely puzzled, Lily looked back at Sirius, who gravely dropped his own wand to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of being painfully cursed. Instead, she pointed her wand at James and un-Petrified him. "YOU—" James started to lunge at Sirius, but then his mind caught up, and he stopped, staring at Lily.

She stared back, then looked at his friends, all of whom wore expressions of combined chagrin and hope. Slowly, almost unwillingly, her lips curved into a smile. Then a small giggle escaped, then a louder one. Then she began laughing outright. The boys stared at her. Shaking her head, she folded her arms and said, "All right, Potter, I'll go with you on Saturday—just so long as you promise to turn these three berks into mops so I don't catch them spying on us from behind rubbish bins."

James' mouth fell open. "Wha—really?!"

She nodded, still laughing. "Yes, really." Then she walked up to Remus, Wormtail, and Sirius and dealt each of them a playful slap (well, Sirius's was a bit harder than the others) before collecting her bag and walking down the hall, still laughing.

The four friends watched her go. "My God," Wormtail breathed. "Sirius…you did it!"

Then they all piled onto each other, whooping and cheering, slapping hands, and Remus and Wormtail danced a jig around the hall singing, "She said yes! She said yes!" while James tackled Sirius and began beating his head against the wall.

Harry emerged from the Pensieve with a gasp. He looked at the grinning adult Remus, and they both began to laugh. Wiping his eyes, Remus declared, "And the rest, as they say, is history."