Scars, Part 2

[geri_chan]

Rating: NC-17 overall

Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Ash/Tsubasa; also a little Theodore/Blaise, Dylan/Hermione, and Aric/Takeshi

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts; [] indicates song lyrics.

Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling; song lyrics are from "Scars" by Papa Roach. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Warning: AU. This story contains a character from Half-Blood Prince, but does not follow the HBP storyline.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, The Revenant, Ash's Story, and Summer Vacation III.

Summary: Snape, Lupin, Dylan, and Hermione pay a visit to Rosier Manor; Hufflepuff student Laura Madley tries to learn more about the brother she never knew she had.

Part 1

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Dylan returned from his visit to the Grangers, and Hermione stopped by Snape Manor with him to say hello to Snape and Lupin before starting her new apprenticeship--or apprenticeships, rather, since she was supposed to be training with both Mr. Jigger, the Apothecary, and Morrigan De Lacy, the lawyer who had defended Lukas during his trial. She wanted to become a Potions Mistress and eventually run the Apothecary's shop with Dylan, but she was also determined to become a lawyer so that she could fight for house-elf rights.

"We brought back some presents for you," Dylan said, handing Snape a box of candy. "And Hermione's parents said that if I was going to bring home sweets, I should bring back these, too." Hermione smiled sheepishly as Dylan gave Lupin a pair of toothbrushes.

"They can't help it; they're dentists," she said apologetically. "They used to hand out toothbrushes instead of candy on Halloween. Ours wasn't exactly the most popular house on the block, as you can imagine."

"Never mind, Hermione," Lupin chuckled. "It's a useful gift, and it was very thoughtful of them."

"We also brought back an electric toothbrush for Mr. Weasley, since he's so fond of Muggle devices," Dylan said.

"A what?" Snape asked, and rolled his eyes when Hermione explained it to him. "Are Muggles so lazy that they can't be bothered to brush their own teeth and have to invent a device to do it for them?" Then he sighed and told Dylan, "Well, I suppose it can't hurt for you to curry a little favor with the Minister of Magic." He scowled and added sourly, "After all, my mother seems to have become Molly Weasley's new best friend."

"Did you enjoy your first visit to the Muggle world?" Lupin asked Dylan, ignoring Snape.

"It was so much fun!" Dylan enthused. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger were very nice, and I learned about all kinds of things--movies and television and computers. It's just not the same, reading about it in Muggle Studies. Oh, and I got to ride in a car! I wonder how hard it would be to enchant one to fly, like Mr. Weasley did?"

"Don't even think about it, Mr. Rosier," Snape said sternly, glowering at his foster son, who just laughed.

"And what did your parents think of your young suitor?" Lupin asked Hermione, grinning.

"Oh, he completely charmed them, of course," Hermione replied, grinning back at Lupin. "Mum just adores him, and Dad said that he seems like a fine young man. They were a little anxious when I first told them that I was dating Dylan, but now they're both relieved to know that my boyfriend is such an intelligent and well-mannered young man."

Dylan smiled innocently, looking positively angelic, and Lupin laughed while Snape snorted derisively.

"By the way, do you think that we could visit Rosier Manor before school starts?" Dylan asked. "I'd like to look through my father's things and introduce Hermione to the portraits." He grinned, with his father's rakish charm, and added, "After all, she'll most likely be living there with me someday."

Hermione blushed and murmured, "I've arranged to rent a flat in town, near the Apothecary's, so that I'll be close to work."

"That will do for now," Dylan said, still grinning. "But remember that distance doesn't matter to a wizard; with Floo travel or Apparation, you can travel hundreds of miles in an instant. And someday, when you're Lady Rosier..."

"I can't wait to see Armand's face when you tell him that," Snape said dryly, referring to the portrait of the late Lord Rosier, Dylan's great-grandfather. Snape's thin lips curved slightly in a sardonic smile at the thought; he had little fondness for the arrogant portrait, and still remembered the disparaging comment Armand had once made about his nose. ("Judging by that nose, you must be a Snape," the portrait had told him, when Voldemort had sent him and Dylan to the mansion to retrieve the vampiric roses that were the Rosier family's secret weapon.)

That weekend, Snape, Lupin, and Dylan Apparated to Rosier Manor. Since Hermione had never been there before, Dylan Apparated her along with him. He had only recently received his official Apparation license, and normally Snape wouldn't have allowed a beginner to Apparate with another person, but Dylan wasn't really a beginner since he had been secretly practicing since the previous year, with Snape's approval. Besides, Dylan had proven to be as adept at Apparating as he was at all his other magical lessons, and Snape smiled a bit ruefully, thinking to himself that if it weren't for Dylan's incredible charm and charisma, the other students would all have hated him for being so perfect. Snape could still recall very vividly how much he had envied James Potter because things had seemed to come to him so easily--good grades, skill at Quidditch, popularity with the other students--without him having to work at it. Or so it had seemed to a bitterly jealous young Severus Snape.

But Dylan was smiling proudly at Hermione as they stood before the iron gates of Rosier Manor, and Lupin smiled at Snape questioningly, a look of concern in his eyes, and laid his hand on Snape's arm. So Snape shook off his brief bout of melancholy and said lightly, "Well then, lead the way, Lord Rosier."

Dylan placed his hand on the locked gates, and the rose-shaped crystal in his ring glowed red, and the gates swung open before them. (The ring had once belonged to Dylan's father Evan, and did not just symbolize the heirship of the Rosier family, but was a key to bypass the locks and protective wards on the estate.) The tangled, overgrown rosebushes that surrounded the mansion in a seemingly impenetrable wall obediently pulled apart and cleared a path for them.

"Wow!" Hermione exclaimed in an awed voice. "It's just like the tale of Sleeping Beauty."

"Except that there are no bodies of fallen princes impaled on the thorns of the roses," Dylan laughed. "At least, not that I know of. And there is no sleeping princess in the mansion."

"Good," Hermione said, firmly and a touch possessively. "Because I'm not letting you kiss any princesses, not even to awake them from an enchanted sleep."

"No princess could ever compare to you, my love," Dylan replied gallantly.

"He's very smooth, isn't he?" Lupin asked Snape, grinning. Even though he seemed reassured that Snape was all right, he still kept his hand on Snape's arm as they walked towards the mansion, and Snape did not object.

"As smooth as his father," Snape agreed, then paused and corrected himself, "Even smoother than Evan, actually."

The roses reached out every now and then to brush their petals affectionately against Dylan's hands or face, as if to acknowledge the return of their master. "These roses aren't vampiric like the ones that Voldemort used, are they?" Hermione asked nervously.

Dylan actually knew very little about the Rosier estate, since his father had died before he was born, and he had been raised on the Donner estate in Wales, so he looked to Snape instead of replying himself.

"No, they do not actually drink blood," Snape said. "However, the vines will lash out against intruders like barbed whips, and the thorns can inflict very nasty wounds. The Aurors who originally tried to seize the Rosier mansion after the first war ended were severely injured, and Bellatrix Lestrange was nearly killed when she tried to break into the Manor during the second war."

Hermione looked even more nervous than before, and Lupin said with good-natured sarcasm, "Thank you, Severus, for being so reassuring."

"Would you rather have the truth, or empty but comforting platitudes, Lupin?" Snape retorted, but without any real sharpness to his voice.

"I would always prefer the truth, Professor, even when it isn't very pleasant," Hermione replied earnestly before Lupin could answer. Snape said nothing, but nodded approvingly, and Dylan and Lupin grinned at him.

The doors of the mansion opened as easily for Dylan as the gates had, and they walked into the dark and dusty entrance hall, casting Lumos spells so that they could see where they were going. The family portraits lining the hall were dozing and snoring in their frames, but they began to stir and waken as the light fell over them.

Armand was the first portrait to fully awaken. A little warmth crept into his cold and arrogant face when he saw his great-grandson; perhaps the long and lonely years spent in a house with no living occupants had softened him up a little, or maybe it was just relief that the Rosier line had not completely died out. In any case, he greeted Dylan with the words, "Welcome home, child."

"Thank you, Great-Grandfather," Dylan said politely.

"I see you brought some friends with you," Armand added, eyeing Lupin, Snape, and Hermione with less enthusiasm. "Severus and the werewolf, I remember, but who is the young lady?"

"This is Hermione Granger," Dylan replied. "And Hermione, this is my great-grandfather, Armand Rosier."

Hermione curtsied gracefully before the portrait and said, "I am very pleased to meet you, Lord Armand."

"Well, actually it is young Dylan who is the Lord of the Rosier family now," Armand said, but he sounded pleased, and favored Hermione with a small smile. "Miss Granger appears to be a young lady of good breeding, but I am not familiar with the name 'Granger'. A lesser pureblood family, perhaps, a sub-branch of one of the older families...?"

Dylan and Hermione smiled at each other, looking amused, and Snape took great pleasure in breaking the news to Armand: "Actually, Miss Granger is Muggle-born."

"WHAT?!" Armand howled, his face contorting with rage and disbelief. "I won't stand for it! The Rosier line is one of the oldest and purest in the wizarding world, and I won't have it sullied by a Mud--"

"She is the future Lady Rosier and you will treat her with respect!" Dylan snapped. "I will marry Hermione and no one else!"

"He means it, too," Snape said cheerfully, quite enjoying the look of outrage on Armand's face. "He's as stubborn as Evan was."

"Dylan is the last living Rosier," Lupin pointed out in a kindly voice. "Isn't it better for you to have half-blood great-great-grandchildren than none at all? And besides, aren't many of the pureblood families suffering from too much inbreeding? Maybe adding new blood to the line will make it stronger."

Armand scowled, looking almost as sour as Snape faced with a classroom full of mischievous first-year Gryffindors. "And who told you that the pureblood families were inbred?" he asked in a scornful voice, although he did not outright deny Lupin's words.

"Selima Snape," Lupin replied pleasantly.

"Hmph!" Armand snorted. "That foreign girl that Severin married."

Selima's family, the Bashirs, had been living in Britain for over a decade before Severin and Selima had married, but Snape knew that the old pureblood families regarded anyone who had come to Britain less than several centuries ago as "newcomers". "She may have been foreign-born, but her blood is as pure as yours, Armand!" Snape snapped. "Purer, actually, since you consist not of flesh and blood, but of paint and canvas."

Hermione blushed while Armand spluttered and fumed. "You're all getting a little ahead of yourselves, speaking of marriage and heirs and grandchildren," she murmured. "Dylan and I aren't even engaged yet."

Dylan lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Ah, but you know that I am only waiting until I graduate from Hogwarts to propose, don't you, my love? I would like to be gainfully employed and able to support a wife before I wed."

Hermione smiled at him, but said a little tartly, "I am perfectly capable of supporting myself, Lord Rosier."

"To be your partner and equal, then," Dylan said with a smile, kissing her hand again. "So that the two of us can support each other throughout our lives."

"That, I can agree to," Hermione said, and kissed him.

"Ah, young love!" Lupin sighed happily. "Isn't it romantic?"

"I think that Dylan's been reading too many of Prospero's romance novels," Snape muttered under his breath.

"No Rosier has ever married a Muggle-born!" Armand wailed plaintively. "Not even a half-blood! For countless generations, our line has been pure and unsullied! Even that Ravenclaw girl that Evan took up with was a pureblood!"

"'That Ravenclaw girl' was my mother," Dylan snapped, glaring at the portrait. "And even if she wasn't a Slytherin, she came from one of the oldest pureblood families in the wizarding world, so there's no reason for you to turn your nose up at her!"

Armand looked as though he was about to argue further with his great-grandson, but Lupin said quietly, "Think, Lord Armand. Think of how empty and silent this house has been for nearly twenty years. Think of what it might be like to see this house come to life again, to hear children laughing and running through its halls."

Snape was going to tell Lupin that Armand wasn't the sentimental sort who would go all maudlin at the thought of children's laughter, but the portrait actually seemed to be considering Lupin's words, looking thoughtful and even a little wistful.

"If it makes you feel any better, Miss Granger graduated at the top of her class," Snape told Armand. "And Dylan has ranked at the top of his class standings every year that he's been at Hogwarts. Your hypothetical great-great-grandchildren will likely turn out to be intelligent and accomplished wizards." When Hermione grinned at him, he added coolly, "Although possibly somewhat bossy and frizzy-haired, if they take after their mother."

Hermione did not look in the least offended, and kept grinning at him. Snape sighed inwardly, feeling a bit of regret at the loss of his sinister reputation, and a bit of nostalgia for the days when he could make Miss Granger and her friends tremble with fear, even drive them to tears, with a menacing look and a few scathing words. But even then, she had never backed down and had stubbornly stood up to him--sometimes openly, as when she had questioned the way he had taken over Lupin's DADA class in her third year, and sometimes passively, by consistently doing such a good job in Potions class that he had no excuse to mark her down. He'd always felt a bit of grudging respect for her, and had often secretly wished that she'd been Sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor--not that he had ever admitted that to anyone, not even Lupin, and certainly not Miss Granger. But whether he liked it or not, it seemed that she was going to become the bride of his foster son, and truthfully, the idea did not disturb Snape as much as he liked to pretend. He just hoped that their children would be Slytherins instead of Gryffindors.

"If you don't like it, you can always go live in the attic or the basement, where it's nice and dark and quiet," Dylan informed Armand in a no-nonsense tone of voice. He turned to the other portraits in the hall and added, "And that goes for you lot, too. I won't allow anyone, not even my own relatives, to insult my wife when we come to live at Rosier Manor."

An indignant outcry arose from the other paintings, but Armand smiled at Dylan in a resigned and yet somehow approving manner. "So...the Rosier Lord asserts his authority, by force and threat, if necessary. It is well. That is the Slytherin way, after all. And as the werewolf says, I am tired of living in an empty, lifeless house, and I would rather have half-blood heirs than none at all. Besides, the Rosier blood is surely strong enough to overcome any Muggle imperfections." He bowed to his great-grandson, a bit ironically, conceding defeat. "All hail the new Lord of the Rosier family, and his chosen bride!"

The other portraits in the hall reluctantly bowed their heads and said, if a bit sullenly, "Hail Lord Rosier, and his bride."

Having admitted defeat, Armand seemed much friendlier, and spent some time with Dylan chatting about Evan and all the mischief he had gotten into as a child. He directed them to the drawing room, where there were some family photo albums stored on a shelf. As Dylan looked through them, Armand suddenly popped up in an empty picture frame on the drawing room wall and said, "Elin used to keep those in here to show off to guests." Dylan and the others jumped, and Armand said smugly. "I have the ability to travel through any portrait in this house."

"Hmm," Dylan said, smiling wryly. "I'll have to keep that in mind when we come to live at Rosier Manor." He continued flipping through the albums, and his expression turned wistful as he stared at the images of his father--a little boy with curly black hair and a mischievous smile, forever young and happy in the photographs as he laughed and waved at the unseen photographers. Evan's parents posed in some of the photos with him; his mother Elin had the same mischievous smile as her son, while his father Julien was much more serious and stern-looking, although the expression on his face would soften slightly in the photos as he smiled down at his son.

"No one ever came to tea at Rosier Manor without being forced to see Evan's baby pictures," Armand continued. "Elin doted on that boy and spoiled him rotten..." His voice trailed off and he sighed sadly. What he left unspoken, because everyone here already knew, was that Evan's parents had doted on him so much that they had allowed him to do whatever he wanted--including joining the Death Eaters, over Armand's protests. Armand had not really been morally opposed to the killing of Muggles, but he had always been a practical man, and his portrait had retained that sense of practicality even after his death. War was dangerous, and Armand had not wanted his grandson to risk his life by getting involved with Voldemort's war on the wizarding world, but Evan had been seduced by the Dark Lord's propaganda, and his parents had never been able to deny their son anything. And in the end, they had all died, slain in battle by Aurors.

Dylan closed the photo album he was holding, his expression somber. "May I borrow these, Great-Grandfather?" he asked politely. "I promise that I'll take good care of them and return them to the Manor when I'm done."

"Go ahead; you needn't ask my permission," Armand said gruffly. "As you so pointedly reminded me, you are the Lord of the Rosier family now. This mansion and everything in it belongs to you."

Dylan and Hermione smiled, then decided to explore Evan's room next. "Second floor, first door on the left," Armand directed them, then vanished from the picture frame, presumably to follow them to the second floor. Lupin lingered behind in the drawing room, chuckling softly.

"What's so funny?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"It's just that Armand reminded me a little of you just now," Lupin replied, smiling at him, his lips curved in a smile of tender amusement. "Is that a Slytherin trait, to act all gruff and grumpy to cover up any sign of sentimentality?"

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape growled, sounding more like a wolf than Lupin at the moment, then stalked off after Dylan and Hermione. Lupin followed, still chuckling to himself.

Evan Rosier's room had not changed since he had left home to move into his own flat at age eighteen. It looked like the room of a typical teenage boy, with posters of Quidditch teams on the wall, old school textbooks on a bookcase, and a few magic tricks and joke items from Zonko's scattered across the desk. Hanging in the closet were a few spare robes and old Hogwarts uniforms, slightly moth-eaten. There was nothing in the room to indicate that the occupant had been a Death Eater. Dylan wandered around the room pensively, glancing through the books and briefly picking up and looking at the magic tricks on the desk. Then he sat down on the bed, looking a little overwhelmed, and a concerned Hermione sat beside him. He slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Lupin motioned to Snape, and they quietly slipped out of the room.

"I think Hermione can best comfort him now," Lupin murmured, then smiled. "Besides, the two of them haven't had much chance to be alone together up until now."

"You never know, Lupin," Snape said in a tone of Slytherin superiority, although privately he thought that Lupin was probably right. "We Slytherins can be quite resourceful when we put our minds to it."

Lupin grinned and wrapped his arms around Snape. "Yes, it was difficult, but you and I found ways to steal moments alone together at Hogwarts."

"Must you do that in the hallowed halls of Rosier Manor?" Armand complained; he had jumped from the drawing room to another picture frame hanging in the hallway outside of Evan's room.

"Oh, shut up!" Snape snarled at Armand, then barked at Lupin, "And you, cut that out!" Lupin laughed and released his lover.

Dylan soon regained his composure, and they explored a little further, finding the room where Elin Rosier used to brew her potions, along with a notebook filled with handwritten potion recipes. But the mansion was too large to fully explore in one day, and Dylan was growing a little weary, emotionally if not physically.

Armand looked a little lonely when they bid him goodbye, and told his great-grandson wistfully, "Stop by again sometime."

"I will," Dylan promised. "I'll come by again before school starts." He glanced around at the dust coating the walls and the floor, and the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. "Perhaps we can clean up a bit next time."

"The Rosier family doesn't have a house-elf?" Lupin asked curiously. Hermione frowned disapprovingly at him, and Lupin smiled at her and said, "I'm just asking, Hermione; I'm not saying that I condone the servitude of house-elves. But the Rosier family is one of the oldest in the wizarding world, along with the Blacks, Malfoys, and Snapes, and the other three families all have or had house-elves."

"We did," Armand sighed. "But it followed Julien and Elin when they set out on their suicidal mission to avenge Evan. No doubt it wanted to die along with them, for a house-elf with no family to serve has no purpose in life. We didn't know then that Ariane was pregnant with Evan's heir." The portrait glanced at Hermione and sighed again. "Well, at least the Rosier bloodline will not die out." Then in a more hopeful voice he added, "If your half-blood children marry purebloods, then the next generation will have three-quarters pure blood. That's not really so bad. And if the generation after that also marry purebloods..."

They Apparated back to Snape Manor and left Armand doing division and plotting out the course of the Rosier family, and if he was not precisely happy, he seemed almost content. "I didn't have the heart to tell him that I intend to let my children marry whomever they please, no matter whether they're purebloods or Muggle-born," Dylan said with a grin.

"Never mind," Snape said practically. "It will pacify him and keep him occupied for several years, until you actually do have children. And even then, it will be many more years before the children start taking an interest in the opposite sex. You really don't want to live in a house with a screaming portrait, like Black and his harridan of a mother."

Lupin grinned impishly and said, "Of course, it's possible that the children might take an interest in the same sex, which might open up a whole other can of worms..."

"I still say you're all getting ahead of yourselves, talking about children," Hermione protested, blushing again.

Dylan laughed and kissed Hermione on the cheek. "Yes, you're right as always, Hermione! First things first; I'll concentrate on graduating from Hogwarts and passing my N.E.W.T.s. before we start planning for a family."

"You'll pass with flying colors, I'm sure," Hermione said, smiling.

"Well, of course," Dylan said with the charming, insolent grin that was so much like his father's. "But it would be immodest of me to say so myself."

Hermione rolled her eyes and everyone laughed, even Snape, who dared to hope that maybe this year, things would go smoothly at Hogwarts, with no Death Eater attacks or fake werewolf conspiracies. After all, Potter had finally graduated, and the boy seemed to draw trouble to him like a magnet even when--Snape grudgingly admitted to himself--he didn't intend to. With Potter gone, maybe Snape's headaches would vanish, too.

The Potions Master grinned, looking forward to a year with nothing to worry about other than the current crop of Gryffindor first-years. And while there would no doubt be a few troublemakers among them, he was certain that none of them could compare to Potter and his friends.
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For years, Laura Madley had not known that she was not really an only child; she was ten years old when she found out that she'd once had an older brother. It had happened solely by accident, when Laura had accompanied her mother to the little general store in the village to buy a few groceries and supplies...

Mother had given Laura a few Sickles to buy a treat for herself, and she was trying to decide what kind of candy to get when the elderly mother of the store owner had approached her. Laura had overheard her mother saying once that Mrs. Smith was a bit dotty, but Laura thought she was nice enough, just a bit forgetful; that happened sometimes when people got old, Father said. Mrs. Smith couldn't remember a conversation that she'd had with someone yesterday, but she could recall perfectly something that had happened twenty years ago. She no longer worked the register because she would forget who had paid her and how much change she should give, but she still liked to keep busy in the store tidying up and arranging things on the shelves. And she was always nice to Laura, and would often slip her a piece of candy; she sometimes forgot Laura's name, but Mrs. Smith loved children, and was kind to any child who came into the store.

On this particular day, Mrs. Smith seemed to remember who Laura was. "Such a pretty girl, just like your mother," she said, patting Laura on the head.

Laura thought she was a little too old to be patted on the head, but refrained from saying so, since she didn't want to hurt Mrs. Smith's feelings. So all she said was, "Thank you," and she meant it sincerely, because she thought that her mother was very beautiful.

"It's so sad about young Ethan," Mrs. Smith sighed sadly, then smiled at Laura. "But at least your parents had you, dearie, a blessing to comfort them after they lost your brother."

"What?!" Laura exclaimed, wondering if Mrs. Smith really had gone dotty after all. But then she heard Mother cry out in dismay, looking pale and horrified, while Mrs. Smith's son frantically apologized and tried to hush his mother. And then she knew that, incredible as it was, Mrs. Smith's words must be true.

Laura's mother ignored her questions, grabbed her by the arm, and immediately Apparated home, not even pausing to pick up the groceries they had come for. Mother summoned Father home from work at the farm, and Laura strained to overhear the argument coming from behind the closed door of Father's study.

"Damn that old woman!" Father cursed.

"She can't know, Alden," Mother wept hysterically. "We both agreed that she shouldn't know, that we would never talk about it--!"

"I know, dammit! But now it's too late to put the cat back in the bag!" Father snapped, then cursed some more, saying some bad words that Laura wasn't supposed to know. He sounded angry and a little frightened, which in turn frightened Laura, because she had never known her father to be scared of anything. Finally, Father said in a resigned voice, "I suppose it was unrealistic to think that we could keep it hidden forever. It's only because this is such a small village that we've managed so far."

"Since everyone here is dependent upon your wealth," Mother sneered in a bitter voice.

Father said nothing in reply to that, but Laura heard his footsteps moving towards the door, and she quickly ran back to her own room. Her father joined her a few minutes later, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed.

"Father?" Laura asked hesitantly. "Is it true that I have a brother?"

"Yes," Father replied, sighing heavily. "Or rather, I should say that you had a brother. He died about a year before you were born."

"Oh," Laura said, stunned into silence for a moment. Then all the questions that she wanted to ask suddenly came tumbling out of her mouth. "Was his name 'Ethan'? That's what Mrs. Smith said. How did he die? Why haven't you ever told me about him before? Why--"

Father held up his hand to stem the flow of questions and said wearily, "One at a time. Yes, his name was 'Ethan'. He died in an accident when he was twelve years old."

"What kind of accident?" Laura asked. "Why haven't you ever told me about him before?"

Father rubbed his temples as if his head hurt, and sighed again. "It was an accident," he repeated, without elaborating further. "As for why we never told you, his death is a very painful memory for your mother and me. Your birth was, as Mrs. Smith said, a blessing to us. We had been trying for several years to have a child...I mean, another child, but we had given up hope that it would ever happen. And then your mother got pregnant a few months after Ethan died; it seemed like a miracle. We wanted to start over again, and leave the past behind us."

Laura frowned. Somehow, that didn't sound right. As young as she was, death had already touched her life a couple of times. Great-Aunt Ernestine had died last year, and Laura had accompanied her parents to the funeral, although no one there had seemed very sad or upset about the old woman's death; Laura had barely known Ernestine herself, having met her great-aunt only a handful of times at family gatherings. And one of her father's farm workers, John Zeller, had lost a cousin to illness the year before that. Laura had not gone to that funeral, but her father had sent flowers. No one had ever tried to pretend that Great-Aunt Ernestine and John's cousin didn't exist. John would even speak sadly but fondly of his cousin, recalling childhood adventures that they had shared together. And when her best friend Rosie's pet bird had died, they'd given it a little burial and put flowers on its grave.

So it seemed wrong to pretend that Ethan had never existed, to give his death even less attention than a pet bird's. In a way, having everyone forget about you after you were dead seemed even worse than dying. The thought was a little scary to Laura; if she died, would her parents forget about her the way that they had forgotten about her brother?

"What was he like?" Laura asked anxiously, feeling a need to preserve the memory of her brother even if no one else did, so that he wouldn't just disappear. "Do you have any pictures of him? Can we go put flowers on his grave?"

Father clenched his teeth and a dark cloud seemed to fall over his face, and Laura flinched a little. Father hardly ever got angry, but when he did, he looked like that. He usually only got mad and lost his temper after he'd been drinking too much at the pub, and he'd come home and fight with Mother. Laura always hid in her room when they fought, covering her ears to block out her father's deep, booming voice (which reminded her of a thunderstorm; she hated thunder, so maybe that was why it scared her when Father got angry, or maybe it was the other way around and she hated thunder because it reminded her of Father when he was angry).

Father didn't shout, but he said in a stern, implacable voice, "No," and Laura felt her heart sink. Alden Madley was a doting father, and Laura could usually cajole him into giving her what she wanted, but when he spoke in that voice, she knew that there was no changing his mind. The farm workers always said that when Mr. Madley made a decision, it was set in stone.

Still, Laura protested weakly, "But..."

Father shook his head. "I know you mean well, Laura, but just let it go. Please. The reason we don't talk about Ethan is because it's very painful for us. Your mother was devastated when he died. You don't want to make your mother cry, do you?"

"No, but..."

"There's a good girl," Father said, kissing the top of Laura's head. "Now go get cleaned up and get ready for dinner, and I don't want you to say another word about this, all right?"

He left before Laura could argue further, and she went down to dinner intending to ask about Ethan again, even if it was useless, even if it made Father mad. How could she possibly just drop it, after suddenly discovering that she had a brother that she'd never known about?

But then she saw her mother sitting at the dinner table, her eyes red from crying, her beautiful face looking pale and haggard. She looked awful, like she'd been sick for a week. And her eyes...they didn't just look sad, but also fearful and strangely guilty. Laura didn't understand why her mother should feel guilty about Ethan's death, but maybe she blamed herself somehow. Maybe she was supposed to have been watching him, and he slipped off and got into trouble. Although he had been twelve when he died, so it wasn't as if he had been a toddler who might crawl into the creek and drown by accident or something like that.

But it was still possible for even a twelve-year-old to get into trouble. In the rainy season, the water flowing through the creek grew deeper and faster than normal, and the children were cautioned not to swim in it. And Jimmy, one of the farm worker's children, had fallen out of a tree he'd been climbing and broken his arm. He'd gotten a thorough scolding from his mother, who had told him that he was lucky he hadn't broken his neck.

Whatever the reason behind her brother's death, Laura found herself unable to pursue the matter further with her parents. They looked relieved when she said nothing more about Ethan, and after a few days, things returned to normal in the Madley household.

But Laura did not forget about her brother, and silently resolved to somehow find out more about him without involving her parents. Laura didn't want to hurt her mother, but she wanted to know what kind of person her brother had been. After all, what Mother didn't know wouldn't hurt her, right?

So she questioned the workers at the farm when her father wasn't around; most of them, including John, her friend Rosie's father, had been working there for many years, long enough to have been there when Ethan was still alive. But they all refused to tell her anything, saying that her father had forbidden it and they didn't want to get in trouble.

"I promise that I won't tell Father what you told me," Laura pleaded, but they just shook their heads apologetically and remained silent.

"Have you ever heard your parents mention anything about my brother?" Laura desperately asked Rosie.

"You've got to stop this, Laura," Rosie said crossly. "Do you want Daddy to get fired for disobeying Mr. Madley?"

"Father would never do that!" Laura protested.

"Oh yes he would," Rosie retorted. "Your father's a good man, but strict, that's what my daddy always says. He won't hold with anyone who breaks his rules. Haven't you noticed that Mrs. Smith doesn't work at the general store anymore? That's because your father was angry that she let it slip about your brother, and he said he'd take his business elsewhere if she kept hanging around the store upsetting children by telling tales about things that should remain buried in the past." Laura's father was the wealthiest man in the village, and the general store would suffer if he and his workers stopped shopping there, since they made up most of its business.

"Oh!" Laura cried in dismay. "I never meant for that to happen!" Mrs. Smith kept working in the store even after she officially retired and her son took over because sitting around at home all day was too boring, she said. But now that had been taken away from her, and Laura felt partly to blame. Maybe if she hadn't asked Father about Ethan, he wouldn't have gotten so upset with Mrs. Smith. "I'll talk to Father--"

"No!" Rosie said, looking alarmed. "Then I'll get in trouble for telling you about it."

"But because of me, Mrs. Smith..."

"Oh, it's not your fault, Laura," Rosie hastily assured her. "You didn't know that your dad would get so upset about it. And anyway, I don't think it's just because of you. Your mum was pretty upset, wasn't she? Even if you hadn't said anything, your dad would probably still have told Mr. Smith to keep his mother at home from now on. Please, Laura, please just forget about all this."

"How can I just forget about my brother?" Laura demanded.

"It's not as if you ever knew him," Rosie said bluntly, though not unkindly. "It might be worth getting into trouble over if he were still alive and you had a chance to meet him, but he's dead. Why are you getting so upset about someone you never met?"

"It's just so sad," Laura wept. "That everyone's forgotten about him. It's like he never existed. If I died, I'd want people to remember me. I mean, I wouldn't want them to cry all the time or anything, but I'd want them to remember me and talk about me sometimes."

"Don't say stuff like that," Rosie said nervously.

"I just think someone ought to remember him, that's all," Laura sniffled.

"It's not that people don't remember him, Miss Laura," Rosie's father John said gently. He had come up behind the girls unnoticed while they were talking. He glanced around, as if to make sure that Laura's father was not within earshot before continuing, "It's just that it makes them sad, so they don't talk about it."

"Then you did know Ethan!" Laura said eagerly, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "Please tell me about him!"

"I can't," John said unhappily, and he looked both sad and guilty, reminding Laura of her mother and making her even more curious. How had Ethan died, that everyone should feel so guilty about it? "I promised your father that I wouldn't. I've already said too much as it is."

Laura felt ready to burst into tears again, in frustration this time, at having the knowledge of her brother so tantalizingly close and yet denied to her. John must have noticed, because he sighed, then said kindly, "I'm sure that Ethan would be happy to know that you're thinking about him, Miss Laura. Even if you can't talk about him because it would trouble your parents, he still exists in your heart. You said that's all you wanted, for someone to remember him. He won't be forgotten so long as you remember him."

"But how can I remember him when I don't know anything about him?" Laura argued. "Not even what he looked like!"

"Think of him like...like an angel," John said hastily, beginning to look a little nervous, glancing around again. "Watching over you from Heaven. No one's ever seen an angel, at least, no one living today, but people still believe in them."

Laura frowned, not entirely convinced or comforted by his words. "I suppose..."

"I really have to get back to work now," John said. "Please don't say anything more to your father."

Laura reluctantly nodded. "I won't, I promise. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with Father."

"Good lass," John said, looking relieved. He started to leave, then hesitated and bent down to whisper in Laura's ear, "He had hazel eyes, just like you and your mother." Then he quickly walked away before Laura could question him further.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

So a vague image of a hazel-eyed boy was all that Laura had of her mysterious brother, but she held it in her heart, and stubbornly resolved that someday she would find out more about him. And no matter what happened, she would never forget him, even if everyone else did. She looked through all the family photo albums, taking them out of the closet when Mother and Father weren't around, but found no pictures of her brother in them. She wondered if her parents had thrown them out, or if they might be hidden somewhere.

Laura tried snooping around a bit, but her father was watching her closely, and she was afraid that if she made him suspicious, he might destroy any remaining pictures of Ethan, so she gave up her search for the moment. And before long, she was caught up in the excitement of getting ready to start school at Hogwarts, and had no time to look for mementos of her brother. And once she was at school, she was of course unable to continue her search.

Laura was Sorted into Hufflepuff, where the older students were kind to her and the other first-years, making them feel welcome and helping them to get settled in. In the other Houses, the older kids would sometimes tease the new students, although it was mostly in fun. But she heard that in Slytherin, the teasing could sometimes get nasty, so she was grateful to be a Hufflepuff, where even the Quidditch team captain, Cedric Diggory, was never too busy to say hello to an awestruck first-year and ask how they were doing.

At first her lessons kept her busy, and then the excitement of the Triwizard Tournament being held at Hogwarts during her very first year. And then there was the horror of Cedric's death, and whispered rumors about You-Know-Who's return, and somehow Laura's need to learn more about her brother became less urgent compared to the growing fear of war breaking out.

But she never forgot Ethan entirely. She often wistfully fantasized about what it would be like if he had lived. She imagined a protective and caring older brother who would help her with her homework and give her advice about how to get along with her classmates and teachers. She imagined someone brave and handsome and kind, a bit like Cedric Diggory. Maybe if Ethan had lived, he might have been a Quidditch star like Cedric, too. She imagined him taking her for rides on his broom and giving her pointers on how to fly, which would have come in handy, since her flying lessons at Hogwarts had not gone very well. She did excel at Herbology, though, working very hard in Professor Sprout's class because she wanted to work alongside Father at the farm when she graduated. She sighed sadly, thinking of how she and Ethan could have run the farm together someday in the nebulous future after Father retired, but now that would never happen.

Rosie entered Hogwarts the year after Laura, and much to both girls' delight, she was Sorted into Hufflepuff. Although they were in different years, Rosie was still Laura's best friend and main confidant, and the only person she could talk to about Ethan. She knew that her practical friend secretly thought that she was a bit silly to be constantly fantasizing about an imaginary brother, but like the good friend and loyal Hufflepuff that she was, Rosie patiently listened to all Laura's wistful fantasies without complaint. And in return, Laura kept her promise to John and Rosie, and never mentioned Ethan in front of her parents.

Finally You-Know-Who's return was confirmed, and the Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban not once, but twice, and Laura worried less about her dead brother and more about the safety of her parents--the Death Eaters despised anyone who was not a pureblood, and her father was a Muggle-born. Meanwhile, her parents worried about her; Laura felt fairly safe at Hogwarts under the protection of the Headmaster and the magical wards that guarded the school, but her father was outraged that Dumbledore would endanger the students by hiring (or actually, rehiring) a werewolf teacher. He considered pulling her out of Hogwarts, but there was no other school of magic in Britain, and neither of her parents wanted to send her far away to a foreign country, and Laura was relieved when they allowed her to remain at Hogwarts. She liked Professor Lupin when she got to know him, and tried to tell her parents how nice he was, but neither of them listened to her, and it only made them both upset, so eventually she stopped trying. Master Bleddri (who later became Master Diggory), was sterner than Lupin, and she was a little scared of him at first, but gradually she realized that he was a nice person too, in his own way. He was gruff, but he was kind, and he drove his students hard in Physical Defense class because he wanted to make sure that they learned how to protect themselves.

By the end of Laura's fourth year, the Death Eater threat was over and the wizarding world was at peace, and she finally had some time to begin thinking about Ethan again. She had almost given up hope of ever finding out the truth about him, but a unique opportunity presented itself towards the end of summer. Father was off on a business trip, and Mother received an unexpected invitation to a tea party from an old school friend who had been living abroad for several years and had just returned to England.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Mother asked. "I feel a bit guilty running off to London and leaving you all alone. Perhaps you could come along..."

"Please, Mother, I'm old enough to spend an afternoon alone without a baby-sitter," Laura protested good-naturedly. "My name isn't on the invitation, and it would be rude to show up uninvited. Besides, you and your friends won't be able to have fun gossiping if I'm around, right?"

Mother giggled girlishly; she still looked young enough to almost be a schoolgirl herself. Laura's housemates always remarked on what a young and beautiful mother she had, which always made her feel very proud. "Well, if you're sure, dear," Mother said. "I always think of you as my little girl, but you're becoming quite the young lady, aren't you?" She kissed Laura on the cheek and said, "I'll bring you back a present from London. You're sure that you'll be all right?"

"I'll be fine, Mother," Laura assured her. "Have fun at your party."

As soon as she was sure that her mother was gone, Laura rushed up to the attic. She'd never had time to do a thorough search, since she was rarely in the house alone. Packed away in trunks and boxes, she found old clothes, old toys and baby things she had outgrown, and some Muggle devices that her father's parents had sent as gifts--things like an electric lamp, a toaster, a clock radio. But Father hated being reminded of his Muggle origins, so he had put them all into storage without even taking them out of their original boxes. There had been no Muggle gifts recently, though, since Laura's grandparents had died in a car accident a couple of years ago.

In another trunk, Laura found her mother's wedding dress, which had been packed away rather carelessly, crumpled as if it had just been tossed in there without being neatly folded, and no preservation spells had been cast on it, so the white silk had yellowed slightly with age. She wondered if that was indicative of the state of her parents' marriage. They seemed to live harmonious but completely separate lives: Father spent his days on the farm, occasionally traveling to London on business trips, while Mother looked after the house, with regular trips to London--separate from Father's--to go shopping, or see friends, or take in a play or concert. They slept in separate bedrooms and rarely spent much time together except at the dinner table, where they rarely said anything more to each other than "Please pass the salt". They didn't really fight, except when Father drank too much, but they didn't seem to have anything in common except for Laura. They were both loving parents and doted on Laura, but even that, they did separately: Father would sometimes take Laura down to the farm to spend the day with him, and Mother would often take Laura to London on her shopping trips, but the three of them almost never went anywhere together.

As a young child, this had all seemed perfectly normal to Laura, since she had never known anything else. But after she started going to school at Hogwarts, she learned that not all married couples were so distant. Most of her Hufflepuff classmates seemed to come from very close families, and she had even witnessed some of her friends' parents being affectionate with each other when they visited the school during Quidditch matches. Laura had never witnessed her own parents exchanging even a quick kiss or hug.

But many of the pureblood children, especially the Slytherins, had parents who were cool and indifferent to each other, and sometimes even outright hostile, because they had made arranged marriages for political and financial reasons, not for love. Which made Laura wonder for a moment if her parents' marriage had been arranged, but she didn't really think so. On the rare occasions that Father fought with Mother, it was usually about Mother's supposed pureblood snobbery. And Mother's family seemed to look down on Father for being Muggle-born, so it seemed unlikely that they would have arranged for her to marry him.

Laura sighed, then folded up the wedding dress and packed it away again. Maybe her parents had been in love when they first married, but drifted apart over time. Maybe it was even because of Ethan's death; she had overheard Professor Sprout saying that a child's death could be hard on a family, although she had been talking about the Diggorys at the time.

After searching for about two hours, Laura was nearly ready to give up. She was tired and dirty and sweaty, and she needed to get cleaned up before Mother came home. But she noticed a small, dusty trunk that she had almost overlooked, shoved into a corner at the very back of the attic.

After a brief flare of hope, she was disappointed to see that it contained only books, but she took them out and looked through them nevertheless. The very last book that she lifted out of the trunk was an old, battered book of fairy tales, the spine so creased that it was almost ready to fall apart. As she carefully opened the book, a photograph fell out and fluttered down to the floor.

Her hand trembling with excitement, Laura picked it up; it was a picture of Mother, Father, and a boy about nine or ten years old. Mother and Father had the kind of slightly forced, stiff smiles that people often wore in photos, while the boy smiled warily at the camera, as if watching for some kind of threat. His eyes were hazel, like her own and like Mother's, but his hair was straight and dark brown, unlike Laura's and Mother's wavy, light reddish-brown hair, or Father's hair, which was blond (now turning to gray). He had high cheekbones that gave his face a sharper, more angular look than Mother's softer features and heart-shaped face, but Laura thought that he was a nice-looking boy and probably would have grown into a handsome man if he had lived. Assuming that this was Ethan, of course, because who else could it be?

She leafed through the book hopefully, but found no other pictures. However, written on the inside of the cover in shaky block letters, as if inscribed by a child, was the name "Ethan Madley," which seemed to confirm the boy's identity. Laura packed away the other books (after double-checking them to make sure that there were no other photos or clues hidden inside them), but she kept the battered fairy tale book and the photograph, hiding them in her room, and later packing them in her trunk to take with her to Hogwarts when summer vacation ended.

When their parents saw them off at the train station, Laura noticed that Rosie looked nervous and excited about something, as if she had a secret that she was just bursting to tell. And Laura had her own secret that she wanted to tell Rosie; she had not yet had a chance to tell her about the photo she had found.

Once they were on the train and alone in a compartment together, they said simultaneously, "I have something to tell you!" Then Rosie smiled and said, "You go first."

"I found a picture of Ethan!" Laura said excitedly, and took out the photo and the book, explaining how she had found them in the attic. "I may not know anything else about him, but at least I finally know what he looked like! Now you tell me yours."

"It's about your brother," Rosie said, lowering her voice to a whisper even though there was no one else around. "I found out how he died."

"What?!" Laura shouted.

"Shhh!" Rosie hissed. "And you have to promise not to tell your parents what I told you!"

"I promise," Laura said solemnly. "On my honor as a Hufflepuff."

Rosie nodded, looking satisfied. "Okay then," she whispered, leaning close. "I overheard Mum and Dad talking late one night after I was supposed to be asleep. They were worried about Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic showing so much favoritism to werewolves, and about those werewolf attacks that happened."

"But those weren't really werewolf attacks!" Laura protested. "That Auror Williamson faked them!" She added reluctantly, "And Mr. Diggory," because it was shameful that a graduate of their House had been involved in such a thing. And very sad, too, because she had liked Cedric, and his father had always seemed like such a nice man.

"I know that," Rosie said impatiently. "But I couldn't argue with Mum and Dad, seeing as how I was supposed to be in bed asleep. And then I found out why they don't like us having werewolf teachers at Hogwarts even though I've told them that Professor Lupin and Master Diggory are nice people. Ethan was killed by a werewolf!"

"What?" Laura gasped.

"That's what Daddy said," Rosie continued, still speaking in a hushed voice. "He had a fight with your parents and ran off to spend the night in the woods."

"A fight? What about?" Laura asked.

Rosie shook her head. "I don't know, but it sounded like something that happened pretty often, like your parents weren't too worried about it at first. But that night was a full moon, and a werewolf had wandered into the woods; they heard it howling..."

"Oh," Laura said, her eyes filling with tears, "what a horrible way to die!"

"Apparently they never found the body--"

"Then he could still be alive!" Laura said, grasping at hope.

"If he was alive, why didn't he ever come home?" Rosie objected. "Anyway, they caught the werewolf, and he admitted to doing it. He was a peddler passing through the village, and they caught him in the next town over. His robes were stained with blood, and he confessed as soon as he was brought to the Ministry for questioning. He felt guilty, I guess, about killing a child. He said that he hadn't meant to hurt anybody; he had tried to restrain himself before the full moon--there was no Wolfsbane Potion back then--but he managed to break free and...well..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, then she cleared her throat and continued, "Anyway, he remembered attacking your brother, but I guess he couldn't remember exactly where it happened. They searched the woods, but they never found Ethan's body, but they were still able to convict the werewolf, since he confessed."

"What happened to him?" Laura whispered.

Rosie shrugged. "Sent to Azkaban, I guess. I was hoping to hear more, but Dad said they'd better stop talking about that stuff. The past can't be changed, he said, and Mr. Madley would get angry if he knew they were talking about it." Looking at Laura's stricken face, she said guiltily, "I'm sorry, Laura. It's not exactly good news, is it?"

But Laura hugged her friend tightly and whispered, "Thank you, Rosie. Even if it's not good news, I still wanted to know about my brother. At least now I know what happened to him. Thank you for being such a good friend." And she thought she knew now why Mother felt so guilty about Ethan's death. She must feel bad that they'd quarreled, and probably blamed herself for him running off into the woods where he'd gotten killed.

"You're welcome," Rosie said, hugging her back. "But now that you know the truth, do you think you can finally let it go? I mean, you've spent all these years obsessing about your brother...I guess I can't really blame you. I'd be curious too, if I had a brother I'd never met, but your parents..."

"I know," Laura sighed. "I guess it must be really hard for them. They probably blame themselves for what happened. I won't ask them about it again." She smiled sadly and gently caressed her brother's picture with her fingers. "I'd like to know more about him, but this is enough. I'll remember him and keep him in my heart, like your dad said I should. At least I can picture his face now."

Rosie scrutinized the photograph more closely. "You know, he doesn't really look much like your mum or your dad. Except for his eyes; they look just like yours."

"I'm glad," Laura said softly. "I guess it's silly, but it makes me feel closer to him, like it's something we share."

And then a couple of fellow Hufflepuffs opened the door to the compartment and asked if they could sit with them, so Laura welcomed them in and quickly put away the photo and book. She joined in the gossip with the others, talking about summer vacation and the upcoming school year, feeling very content with that image of her brother in her mind and in her heart. She was still curious about Ethan, but for now it was enough that she had a face to go with the name.

Part 3