October Twilight

October Twilight
Chapter Fifteen
“Illustrations of Importance”

October 31st, 1973
3rd Year

Muffled footsteps echoed against the high, bare walls of Hogwarts Library as Dorcas rushed along the thick blue carpet laid between the bookshelves. At her desk, the librarian stiffened and scanned the room with her beady eyes. When she spotted the young Hufflepuff with an armload of books, her expression softened and became indulgent.

Dorcas hurried past the librarian’s desk, not wanting to risk eye contact with the woman. Although Madam Pince had a soft spot for the especially studious, her obsessive goal to protect each and every book in the library at the expense of the students reading them made Dorcas wary.

Bright orange rays of the setting sun shot through the stained glass window at the end of the corridor, forming colorful patterns across the study tables and illuminating the dust motes floating languidly through the stuffy library. A lone figure hunched over a table in the corner, diligently scanning the pages of a large textbook and making notes on a crisp sheet of parchment.

Dorcas had watched her fellow classmate almost daily since their arrival at Hogwarts two years previous. Remus Lupin was polite and studious, unlike his best friends who were smart, but arrogant. Something about him had drawn her attention. Whether it was the mysterious scars on his face or the way he averted his gaze when Sirius and James tortured a student who had annoyed them, Dorcas couldn’t be sure. She only knew that this boy had captured her attention, and she was unable to forget about him.

Two years later, Dorcas had found out something else about the boy, and her fascination had grown. That knowledge had strengthened her resolve to find out even more about him. Recently, she had discovered a new magical ability. Well, she’d always had the talent, but hadn’t known what it was. Now that Professor Dumbledore had explained it to her, she was able to control it and focus it. She had done so with Remus.

The opportunity to get to know him better had finally presented itself. That was the reason Dorcas was skipping the Halloween Feast. Remus had missed Ancient Runes class earlier in the week, and Professor Vector had assigned a foot-long essay on non-magical Sumerian runes and given them a vocabulary list to memorize. Dorcas had scanned the Gryffindor table five times to make sure Remus wasn’t there, then she had left the Great Hall before the first course had even started. With Ancient Runes class first thing in the morning, Remus was sure to be finishing his homework.

Dorcas approached the table more slowly than she had walked through the library. Remus didn’t glance up from his homework until her shadow fell across his book. She shifted the armload of books and hitched a smile onto her lips.

“I’m Dorcas Meadowes. We’re in Study of Ancient Runes together,” she said, matter-of-factly.

The corners of Remus’s lips twitched slightly as she said all of his. “I know,” he answered.

Dorcas cocked her head to the side, as if this were the most perplexing answer she’d ever received. Remus felt his cheeks grow hot under her gaze. He averted his eyes, focusing on the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of her pretty face. He would never admit that he’d spent most of the first Ancient Runes and Arithmancy lessons staring at Dorcas instead of taking notes.

The way she twirled her dark hair around her fingers when she thought the teacher was oversimplifying a subject and how she pouted ever-so-slightly when she didn’t understand something had been etched into his mind. If he were bold like James or suave like Sirius, he would have asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him.

“Well,” Dorcas continued, choosing to ignore the awkward moment. “I noticed that you missed class on Tuesday, and I thought you might like the notes, because Professor Vector hinted that there will be a quiz tomorrow.”

Remus stared at her for a few moments, his adolescent mind buzzing with many off topic thoughts. Her words competed for attention with the gloss on her pink lips. She was pretty and intelligence, but she had noticed that he was missing from class. She was skipping the Halloween Feast to give him notes. He wondered why someone like Dorcas would be that interested in him. That line of thinking led to a dangerous conclusion that Remus wasn’t prepared to make. He blinked a few times to clear his mind, suddenly noticing the small frown tugging at Dorcas’s lips. He realized that he had been silent for several moments.

“Umm … yeah, I do need the notes … thanks.”

Dorcas slid into the chair opposite him and rummaged through her bag, pulling out rolls of parchment as she shifted through the mass of notes and books crammed into it.

“Here you are.” She pushed three scrolls across the tabletop.

As Remus examined the notes, his eyebrows rose slightly. She had copied down the usual notes Professor Vector gave in neat, flowing, color-coded script, but had added diagrams and side comments from the textbook. She even had a legend in the upper right-hand corner denoting which notes came from the text and which from Professor Vector by the use of stars and dashes.

“Thanks,” he said, truly meaning it. “You must have copied down the entire lecture verbatim and outlined the whole chapter.”

“I did,” she admitted, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, “and you’re welcome. Do you need me to explain anything? Professor Sprout says you truly know the subject when you can teach it. It would be good practice for the quiz.”

Remus glanced between the notes and Dorcas. He really didn’t think he would need help as long as he had her notes, but she seemed eager to help him study. He wondered about her intentions again. She was too pretty to be interested in more than friendship. Girls like Dorcas dated boys like Sirius and James, not Remus.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be in Ravenclaw?”

Dorcas looked affronted by what Remus considered a compliment. “I don’t have much else in common with Ravenclaw except study habits. I wouldn’t pick another House if I could.”

Remus genuinely smiled. He felt the same way about Gryffindor House.

“All right, you could quiz me on the vocabulary list.”

Remus and Dorcas spent the next hour and a half studying Ancient Runes. After they had both correctly translated all the words, properly drew all the runes, and Remus magically made a copy of Dorcas’s notes, they began packing up. Madam Pince was throwing stern glares in their direction, a sure sign that the library was about to close.

“Thanks again,” Remus said, shoving the textbook into his knapsack.

“No problem. You’re a good study partner.”

Remus was surprised that she thought so. With the number of times she had snatched her notes away and admonished him for allowing her to miss the exact wording of a definition, he was certain that she would never study with him again.

“Really?” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

“Oh, yes. Everyone else gets short with me.”

Remus physically bit his tongue. He didn’t want to offend the one person who would probably lend him exemplary notes in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy all year.

“I don’t know why,” Dorcas rambled on, still shoving reams of notes into her bag. “I just want to make sure I know the course material. Lily says that it’s just Ancient Runes, and it won’t affect my career, so I should lighten up. But you never know where life might take you. Would you like to study again?”

Remus opened his mouth to reply, but Dorcas continued chattering.

“I’d be happy to take notes for you again. I mean, unless you’ve found someone else to lend them to you. I’ve already checked. The next full moon is the twenty-third, and we have a test on the twenty-sixth, so you’ll need the notes right away …”

Dorcas looked up from her knapsack, ready to leave the library. She trailed off when she saw Remus staring at her. He looked suddenly ill. His skin was ashen and his hazel eyes reflected terror and disbelief. She furrowed her brow, wondering what could have happened in the last minute to cause the change.

She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, finally realizing what she had said about the full moon. Her actions shattered Remus’s horrified trance. He jumped up from his chair, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and bolted out of the library. Ignoring Madam Pince’s enraged exclamations that running might hurt her precious books, Dorcas followed him.

“Remus, wait, please!”

She caught up with him at the end of the corridor and grabbed a handful of robes. He spun around, his usually kind face contorted in fury and angry tears slipping down his cheeks. Dorcas released him immediately and stumbled backwards, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic emotional display.

“Afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Remus spat.

“N-No,” she stammered, but flattened herself against the wall despite her answer.

Remus turned away from her, roughly pulling a sleeve across his cheeks to push away the tears. Dorcas stepped forward tentatively, afraid of his reaction.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t keep my big mouth shut.”

“How long have you known?” he demanded, still not looking at her.

“Since before I met you, really. I wasn’t positive that it was you until last term,” Dorcas answered honestly.

Remus turned around slowly, curiosity replacing the anger. He had expected her to ramble on about lunar cycles and missed classes or his affinity for extremely rare meat.

“How?”

Dorcas moved forward again, closing the distance between them. For the first time, she wasn’t nervous about telling someone her secret. She knew that Remus would understand.

“Last term, Dumbledore started giving me private lessons to focus and control my ability. Before that, it was really random. When I learned how to control it … well, that’s what I did. I focused on what I’d Seen several years ago, and … well, I Saw you.”

Remus’s brow furrowed. Surely she hadn’t watched him transform, if that’s what she was suggesting.

“I mean,” Dorcas began again, noting his confusion, “Saw with a capital S. I’m a Seer.”

Dorcas was used to watching the doubt, wonder, and fear play across the faces of the people who knew. Not many people were comfortable being around her after they found out that she knew their futures.

“I won’t invade your privacy anymore,” she assured him automatically. She averted her eyes guiltily. “Dumbledore knew what I’d done when I came for the next lesson. He was furious. He’s making me learn something new, a way to block the Sight completely.”

“Why did you look into my future in the first place?” Remus asked irritably.

Dorcas shifted uncomfortably. The Sight was difficult to explain even when she was prepared to try. She didn’t feel like telling Remus that he fascinated her intuition.

“Look, I understand why you’re upset. I’m sorry, and I’ll leave you alone from now on. Just … don’t tell anyone. Dumbledore made me swear that I wouldn’t, and I’ve already broken that promise several times. If the whole school knows … well, it wouldn’t be a good thing.”

Remus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, contemplating the girl in front of him. She had a brilliant mind, but not much common sense.

“Of course I won’t tell. It’s important that no one knows about my secret either.”

Dorcas nodded and turned away awkwardly. With nothing left to say, she began the walk back to Hufflepuff Cellar. The encounter hadn’t gone the way she’d hoped. Instead of making a friend, she had alienated the one person she knew could understand how difficult it was to keep such a big secret.

Remus watched her retreating back, feeling as though he should have said a lot more. He didn’t appreciate her probing into his private life like she had done, but he was even less comfortable letting her walk away with his secret as just an acquaintance. Then there was the fact that no one had ever tried to befriend him after finding out about his lycanthropy. He’d lost plenty of friends and barely managed to hold onto some, but he’d never made new friends who already knew about his condition.

“I’ll need your notes again,” he called. “If you don’t mind me copying them.”

Dorcas peered over her shoulder. “Not at all. Same table?”

“Same table.”

*~*~*

August 3rd, 1979

The smell of crushed dittany was the first thing Dorcas sensed. She blinked slowly, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light in the room. For one heart-stopping moment, she was afraid that she was in the same room where she had met He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for the second time. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the familiar surroundings of the hospital ward at Holly Falls.

The candle beside her bed was burning low and casting elongated shapes of medical instruments onto a figure sleeping in the chair beside her bed. She smiled slightly at the sight of Sirius snoozing in the uncomfortable chair. He would have a terrible crick in his neck when he woke. She looked down at her hand, seeing for the first time what she had been feeling since before she woke up: his fingers intertwined with her own.

She wiggled around in the bed, trying to get more comfortable between the scratchy sheets. At the slightest movement, Sirius jolted awake and had his wand out. He gazed at Dorcas for a moment before deciding that it wasn’t a dream. He wrapped his arms around her and she embraced him just as tightly. They shared a kiss heedless of the other patients in the ward who had woken up and were watching curiously.

“When I saw them Disapparate with you, I thought … but then they brought you back. We didn’t know what to think. Moody wanted to take you to Azkaban for the night, just in case you were a Death Eater in disguise.”

“Sounds like Moody,” Dorcas laughed. It was a hollow sound, not like her usual merry jingle. “Sirius, what day is it?”

“Thursday … well, Friday now, August 3rd. Bones has been giving you Dreamless Sleep Draughts.”

“Three more days,” Dorcas whispered. She had slept for four days, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had only given her one week to return to him.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. I just can’t believe I slept that long, that’s all.”

“Now you’re up. Everyone will be so happy. We were so worried about you!”

Dorcas wondered how happy her friends really would be. Lily and Remus were already concerned that her Sight was a dangerous ability. If they hadn’t trusted her before she’d faced the Dark Lord alone, they wouldn’t trust her anymore afterwards. They would probably think she had been Imperiused.

Dorcas and Sirius spent most of the morning talking. The Death Eaters had been unusually inactive since that attack on Godric’s Hollow. Sirius didn’t say anything specifically, but Dorcas knew that he and the Order thought it was a direct correlation to Dorcas’s mysterious abduction and return.

Dorcas told him most of what had happened with the Death Eaters. She left out the part about her interpreting the Dark Lord’s future for him. Sirius seemed to guess that there was something she wasn’t saying, but he didn’t press the matter.

“The Imperius Curse is in the eyes, and your eyes are exactly like they were before.”

“Thank you, Sirius,” she said, smiling. “I can’t believe I never saw how kind you can be.”

“Don’t go telling everyone. You’ll ruin my reputation,” he joked, grinning wryly.

Later that morning, Healer Bones came by to inspect Dorcas. He gave her a clean bill of health, but prescribed plenty of rest and dittany mixed with essence of murtlap. During The Incident, as Dorcas thought about it, she had received numerous cuts and scrapes on her face and arms, although she didn’t know how. They stung badly, like non-magical wounds such as paper cuts and splinters.

Healer Bones didn’t ask about how she had received the injuries and Dorcas didn’t offer any explanation. She noticed that his gaze never quite reached her eyes. She wondered if he was tending to her only because the Healer’s Oath required him to.

“Good morning, Dorcas,” Dumbledore greeted, entering the ward as Bones was leaving. “I wonder if I might have a word?”

“Of course, sir.”

“You’ll be glad to know that your brother and cousin are safe. Darius has been staying here at Holly Falls, and when the situation was explained to Angelica’s aunt and uncle, they agreed to allow her to stay here as well.”

Something in his voice made Dorcas believe Angelica’s Muggle family had more like demanded that their witch-niece not return until Dark wizards were not after any members of the family, however distantly related they might be.

“I think it best that you also remain here at headquarters. Lily has offered to gather your things, if you’ll tell her what you need from your apartment.”

With that said, Dumbledore moved towards the door. Dorcas watched him leave with a mixture of confusion and anger. He hadn’t asked her what had happened or even used Legilimency to find out. He clearly had his mind made up about her, she thought. He didn’t trust her and that was that. At least, it seemed that way to Dorcas.

The same thing happened every time she encountered a member of the Order over the next three days. They would all say how wonderful it was that she was healing, but would never quite meet her eye. How were they supposed to know she wasn’t under the Imperius Curse if they never looked into her eyes, she wondered. Only Moody made no pretense of being happy to see her.

“You escaped? Or you were released?” he asked.

“Released,” Dorcas replied glumly. “That makes it a hundred times harder to believe, doesn’t it?”

“Aye, it does. But as long as you’re here and we can keep an eye on you …”

Dorcas appreciated his honesty, even if she didn’t like to hear it.

She had been essentially put under house arrest, and it was driving her crazy. Darius stayed in his room, listening to foreign Quidditch matches on the WWN, and Angelica sat with him. Sirius was good about spending as much time at headquarters as he could, but he was naturally restless and sitting inside all day didn’t suit him. She tried not to feel too bitter as she watched Order members freely coming and going.

On the third day since her waking, Dorcas held no ill will towards any of the Order members who refused to meet her gaze. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had told her to return within the week or he would show her how important she was to him. She knew that was a threat against her friends and family, and she was terrified for all of them. But she couldn’t join the Death Eaters to save them and in turn kill hundreds. She would have to trust in their magical abilities.

She thought about warning them, but the idea was too difficult for her to accept. She had tried to tell them about their futures, and they hadn’t wanted to listen because her ability was “dangerous.” Would they really listen if she told them He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had threatened to kill all of them to get to her? And if they did, everyone would know that blame for injuries and death lay with Dorcas.

As the day passed, Dorcas’s tension mounted. She sat in the kitchen at Holly Falls, watching Order members come and go through the front door, wondering which one of them might not return because of her. She was beginning to understand why Lily and Remus had been so afraid of her ability, and she wished desperately that one of them would come to headquarters so that she could tell them that.

She got her wish a week after the deadline expired, but it wasn’t how she imagined the fulfillment. Dorcas was perched in one of the high chairs around the island in the kitchen, sipping her evening tea and listening to Full Moon Blush on the WWN when the front door burst open and hit the wall so hard all the glass sconces in the hallway shook.

“Dorcas! Dorcas! Where are you, damn it!?”

She was so startled to hear James screaming her name that she nearly dropped her cup. She had never seen him so discomposed. Dorcas hurried down the hallway and slammed into James halfway to the drawing room.

“James? What’s going on?” she asked, pulling her wand out.

“Lily sent me ahead ... Go up to the hospital ward. I don’t even know if you’ve covered this in your classes yet.” He ran a hand through his messy black hair, but not in his usual vain manner. He was genuinely distressed.

“It’ll be okay, James,” Dorcas replied automatically. She grasped his upper arms and made him face her. “Tell me what to expect, and if I can’t handle it, I’ll send for Healer Bones.”

“It’s … it’s Remus.”

Dorcas’s calm façade slipped off her face. She tried to nod slowly, but she couldn’t hide the worry and nervousness from James. Together, they charged up the stairs and into the sterile ward. Dorcas rambled off a list of things for James to gather from the cupboard while she washed her hands and slipped on the sterile surgical gloves.

“They’re here!” James cried, sticking his head into the washroom.

When Dorcas emerged from the room, she came to an abrupt halt. Her legs refused to move as she watched Lily and Sirius lay Remus on the bed. His breath rattled in his chest, and his skin had turned sickly purple. A long gash on his forearm was coated in a metallic substance that Dorcas recognized as silver.

Her friends were watching her, all equally concerned and horrified at what was happening. Dorcas took a deep, steadying breath before forcing aside her more fragile emotions. This was one area she could always help the Order in, and more importantly, her friend. She had known how to cure these kinds of injuries since her fourth-year. Even if she couldn’t have performed the charms properly then, she could now.

“The Numbing Tonic, Lily, then the Sleeping Draught,” Dorcas barked. “Sirius, cut his sleeve off at the shoulder. James, be ready with damp towels and transfigure me a magnifying glass.”

They did as she asked without complaint at being bossed around like nurses and orderlies. When they had finished their jobs and Remus was unconscious, Dorcas moved to his side. She made no pretense about doing these spells nonverbally. She had to make sure they worked.

“Lamna!” she whispered, running her wand tip along the gash.

Hundreds of minuscule silver particles hovered in the air. Sirius held a dish under them, and when Dorcas lifted the spell, they pinged against the bottom. She took the magnifying glass from James and began the hardest part of the job.

“Give him as much Purifying Potion as you can make him swallow, then eight ounces of water, and repeat it three times,” Dorcas instructed, never looking up from the circular glass hovering over Remus’s arm.

Minutes ticked on like hours as Dorcas worked. Lily, James, and Sirius worked together trying to make the sleeping Remus drink the potion and water. By the time the routine had been completed, his chin and the front of his robes were stained neon yellow.

“Diced dittany,” Dorcas said, still not looking up.

Someone pushed an open jar of the herb into her hand. She worked deftly at the proper placement of the pink particles before performing the charm to seal the wound and bandage it.

Finally, she sat back and wiped her brow with her forearm. Remus’s chest was rising and falling steadily, and although his pallor was sickly, he was no longer purple.

“He’ll be all right, won’t he?” Lily asked, looking more at James than Dorcas.

“As long as I removed all the silver and he’s not allergic to anything in the Purifying Potion, yes, he’ll fully recover,” Dorcas answered, looking more at Sirius than Lily.

Her desire to apologize to her friend had evaporated in a matter of seconds. She remembered now why Lily didn’t deserve an apology. She couldn’t stay angry for long, however. Her concern for Remus and curiosity got the best of her.

“What happened?”

“We got a Patronus from Caradoc Dearborn and Apparated to Swansea like he told us to. Next thing we know, he’s attacked Remus and threw about a ton of silver into the air. When we’d recovered from getting it out of our eyes, Remus was on the ground … like that.”

“Caradoc did this?” Dorcas asked, aghast.

“He’d been … Imperiused. The moment he threw the silver, he snapped out of it. He’s with Dumbledore and Moody now.”

“It had to be Death Eaters who Imperiused him, but how did they know about his … furry problem?” Lily wondered.

Dorcas’s eyes slipped closed, but the tears still leaked out the side. She knew how they’d found out. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had seen some memory in her mind and told his followers how to kill Remus. She was so absorbed in her guilty emotions that she didn’t hear Sirius and James cursing Snape.

Dorcas left the room consumed by remorse and unable to stand watching Remus sleep any longer. The Dark Lord had threatened to do this, and she had believed he would, but she had not properly prepared herself for the shock of seeing her friend nearly die because of her decisions.

For the briefest moment, she considered searching out the Dark Lord and putting an end to it. Images of hundreds of innocent people dead flashed behind her eyes as she plopped into the chair behind her desk. She laid her head on the table top, fighting back the sobs threatening to emerge from her throat.

“It’s not your fault, no matter what you might think.”

Dorcas didn’t look up. Sirius wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders and laid his forehead on the back of her neck.

“Yes, it is, Sirius. He wants me, and he’ll use all of you to get what he wants.”

“And if he didn’t want you, he wouldn’t try to kill us?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Of course it’s not. You have an insatiable need to feel guilty, therefore, any fact that doesn’t add to the already massive burden on your shoulders won’t be the point, will it?”

“That’s … Your misinterpreting … Why … Merlin, you are infuriating! I take back any nice thing I’ve ever said about you! I don’t like you anymore.”

Dorcas felt him smile against her neck. “Let me give you a kiss, and we’ll see if you still feel that way.”

Over the next few days, Dorcas pretended to recover from the shock of seeing Remus nearly die to appease Sirius, but she still blamed herself. He was a constant companion, but his nonchalance about the whole ordeal was driving her crazy. She became more sullen the longer she remained isolated at Holly Falls, no matter how many hours she spent with Sirius.

At times, she contemplated using the Sight to predict who would be attacked next because she refused to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But she had lost all will to See anything since The Incident, and even if she could have used her ability to save her friends, they wouldn’t want to hear it. She was dangerous, Dorcas thought bitterly, and couldn’t be trusted.

A week and a day later, Remus was still in the hospital ward recovering from the attack. Dorcas mounted the stairs three times a day to inspect his wound, but she never stayed longer than was necessary. As she made her way down the long corridor for the last time that day, she heard voices drifting out of the ward.

“… That looks infected,” Lily’s voice said.

“I’m fine. I’ll have Dorcas look at it later. But are you two all right?” Sirius replied.

“Look, mate, do you think you should be spending so much time with—,” James began.

“Considering that I’m not the one who just escaped death for the second time,” Sirius countered irritably, “maybe we can forget about what I do for a few minutes.”

“We’re fine,” Lily answered. “Just a few bumps and bruises, nothing major.”

“I wouldn’t consider Voldemort nothing major,” Remus mumbled.

Dorcas reeled back from the door, her heart thudding in her chest. She groped around for anything to support herself with as she stumbled into the office and shut the door. She felt a tight constriction in her chest and the world around her spun and tilted violently.

James and Lily had just eluded the Dark Lord … again. That was twice they had faced the Dark Lord together and escaped. It was her fault entirely. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wouldn’t have gone after them if she had just done as he said. She forgot about Sirius’s logic and the fact that the Dark Lord had wanted Lily and James before he ever knew she was a Seer.

And Sirius had been injured as well. Lily sounded like it was a serious wound. She felt tears spring to her eyes when she thought about Sirius hurt. She didn’t know what she would do without him around. She needed his bark-like laugh to lighten her mood, his cool disregard for propriety and decorum to balance her sometimes anal retentive habits, and his sharp wit to keep her on her toes.

It was too much for her to handle, she decided. She would have to give in to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and strike a bargain. She would do whatever he wanted if he would just leave her friends alone. She had arrived at the front door before she realized she was even walking. The sight of the stark white door snapped her out of her panicked thoughts. She swallowed thickly and reached out for the doorknob.

“Where are you going?” Angelica asked.

Dorcas turned around, startled to hear her cousin’s sweet voice. She hadn’t so much as said ‘Good morning’ to Darius and Angelica since she had woken up in the hospital ward. She had assumed that they, like everyone else at Holly Falls, didn’t want to see or talk to her. The young girl moved forward and took Dorcas’s hand.

“Please don’t leave us.”

“Oh, Angelica. Sweetheart, it’s not that simple.”

“I know what you planned on doing, but you can’t do it. He killed our families, Dorcas. You can’t help him kill more people. Your friends wouldn’t want it.”

“H-How did you know?”

The girl touched the middle of her forehead with her index finger. “It’s a family trait. But Dumbledore said no one can know.”

A pained expression crossed Dorcas’s face and a strangled gasp escaped her throat. She grasped Angelica’s upper arms firmly.

“That’s right. Never tell anyone, anyone at all. Do you understand? The Sight is a curse and it will only make your life worse the more you use it. Don’t take Divination. Learn Occlumency so well that even Dumbledore can’t force you to open your mind.”

The young girl nodded vigorously. “I promise.”

“Wise advice.”

Dorcas and Angelica both turned to the door where Professor Dumbledore now stood. For the first time in many months, he met Dorcas’s gaze squarely. After the brutal mental assault from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Dumbledore’s gentle probing felt natural and relaxing. The Headmaster turned from Dorcas to Angelica.

“It is late, and you probably have some summer homework you’re putting off until the last possible second?”

“Yes, sir,” Angelica admitted.

“If you don’t mind, I have something I need to discuss with Dorcas. I shall see you at the Welcome Feast in a few short weeks.”

After Angelica had disappeared up the stairs, Dumbledore led Dorcas into the room where the Order held meetings. A stone basin carved with ancient runes sat on top of the table, and its contents shimmered and sparkled.

“If you’ll take out your wand, Dorcas, we have questions to ask and answers to find tonight.”

Dorcas and the Headmaster left the meeting room three hours later, both silent and somber. While Dorcas headed upstairs for bed, Dumbledore exited the front door. Many things had been revealed in the Pensieve; things that even Dorcas, the owner of the thoughts, had not known. A plan was beginning to form in the back of her mind, but there were many kinks to work out before it was remotely feasible.

As August became September, the weather turned unnaturally cold. The mist hanging in the air and the daily rain matched the mood of the entire wizarding world. Some of the best Aurors were lying in beds at St. Mungo’s, and the Minister of Magic herself had narrowly escaped assassination by the Death Eaters. She was a formidable witch and resilient, but the Healers were still concerned that she wouldn’t make a full recovery.

After the failed attack, the Death Eaters had taken a different approach. Instead of killing Aurors, they had begun to target Healers. Healer Bones was among the first to disappear. The Order and Ministry had been searching for any sign of him for weeks, but to no avail.

Healer training classes at St. Mungo’s started the last week of August, and Dorcas attended with Dumbledore’s approval. Dorcas wasn’t surprised to see that the foreign students had all gone home, and that many classes had been cancelled because the professors had been killed or abducted.

A great weight lifted off of Dorcas’s shoulders when Darius and Angelica left for Hogwarts on September the first. They would be safe there with Dumbledore watching over them. For nearly two weeks, she felt as though things might actually start to improve for her. News to the contrary arrived in the dead of night.

“Miss Meadowes, wake up. Dorcas, get up!”

She swatted at the hand that had invaded her dreams and was shaking her awake. The owner of the hand would not desist, so she waved her wand at the candle on the night stand. It burst into flame, spreading orange light over the sparsely furnished bedroom and the face of Professor McGonagall.

“Professor?” Dorcas asked yawning. “What’s going on?”

“Miss Meadowes … oh!” she cried, for at that moment the duvet beside Dorcas had been thrown off and a tousle-haired, irritable-looking Sirius had sat up.

“What’d you turn the light on for?” he grumbled. He blinked slowly at Professor McGonagall, then hastily pulled the covers up to his chin. “Professor.”

“Mr. Black,” she responded, her cheeks flushing. “Perhaps you two should get … dressed. I’ll be waiting in the drawing room.”

It would have been a comical moment if they hadn’t been woken up in the middle of the night by an Order member. Something had or was happening that they needed to know about. They dressed quickly and descended the stairs. Professor McGonagall was standing beside the fireplace with a flower pot of Floo Powder in her hands.

“Where are we going?” Sirius asked.

“Miss Meadowes is coming to Hogwarts, and if she agrees, you may come along too.”

“Please, professor, why do I have to go to Hogwarts in the middle of the night?”

The professor took a deep breath. “I’m afraid to say that there has been an attack on Hogsmeade Village. Ten Death Eaters raided the town. It seems they were looking for someone there.”

Dorcas’s heart was pounding violently in her chest. “What does that have to do with me? I only know the residents as acquaintances.”

McGonagall’s eyes glistened in the firelight. “Perhaps you should sit down.” When they had taken places on the couches surrounding the fire, she continued. “Today Gryffindor House held Quidditch try-outs. Apparently, a very solid team was assembled and they wanted to celebrate.”

McGonagall’s voice sounded very far away as she explained that the Gryffindor Quidditch team had snuck into Hogsmeade through a secret passageway built for emergency evacuation of students.

“Two of the students were able to get back through the tunnel. The others were not. Rosemerta found Darius outside her pub. Poppy is tending to him now.”

“He’s not … I mean, he’s all right?”

McGonagall dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I don’t know that ‘all right’ is quite acceptable at this stage of healing.”

Sirius helped Dorcas into the fire grate and led her through the deserted halls of Hogwarts Castle. It seemed ages since they had exchanged insults and occasional hexes in these corridors. Sirius hesitated at the door to the hospital wing, not knowing if Dorcas wanted time alone with her brother. When she didn’t release his hand, he followed her inside.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting at the door to her office with a brass candle holder. She cast Dorcas a sympathetic look before leading the young woman down the long row of beds. The nurse stopped beside a bed surrounded by curtains.

“This will be him.”

The others stood back as Dorcas pushed aside the curtains. The tears welling in her eyes slid down her cheeks as the candlelight fell on her brother’s sleeping face. There was a wide gash across the bridge of his nose and innumerable other cuts all over his handsome features. His skin was white as snow, and his chest barely rose and fell.

“Why isn’t he at St. Mungo’s?” she asked, her voice coming only in hissed whispers.

“What with all the Healers disappearing …,” Madam Pomfrey began, “Well, dear, it’s safer for him here and less of a burden on the hospital.”

Dorcas’s eyes remained fixed on her brother. He looked so like their father with his freckles, light hair, and athletic build. The crushing weight of all her loss hit her in that moment. She collapsed to her knees and fell onto her brother’s bed. Sobs wracked her body as all the pain she had kept bottled away for months on end came spilling out.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall fled from the scene clutching each other’s shoulders and sniffing loudly. Sirius stood back, unable to help Dorcas. He waited silently until she ran out of tears and the sun began to rise over the horizon. Gently but firmly, he lifted her to her feet and led her out of the hospital wing and back to Holly Falls where she could get some rest.

Hours and hours later, Dorcas woke from nightmarish dreams to find the full moon casting blue light over Holly Falls. For a moment, she wondered if it had all been a dream. She looked to her left, but Sirius wasn’t there. The sheets were dented from where he had lain, but he was gone now.

Dorcas rose from the bed and crossed the room. She gazed out the window at the city of London beyond the glass. Somewhere out there, Muggles bustled without a clue that some Dark wizard hunted them. Beyond the plains and mountains that separated the city and the Highlands, James, Sirius, and Pete were probably sitting together in some pub waiting for the sunrise so that they could make sure Remus was all right. In the West Country, Lily was sleeping soundly in her bed.

They would take care of each other, Dorcas thought. The Marauders had always been there for one another and nothing would ever change that. But Dorcas could no longer be a part of their clique. She had caused her father’s death and put her brother in the hospital near death. Her future now lay down a path separate from her friends’.

The plan she had began forming after looking into the Pensieve weeks ago was finalized in her mind.

It was time to stop hiding.