Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters, ideas and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N:**Bold Italic**:: **Flashbacks.**

&&Bold Italic&& :: & Pensieve Memories&&

All previous chapters have been edited. Nothing's changed, simply my writing style, so there's no need to reread it all over again if you don't want to.

Chapter 9: Allies Assemble:

September 20th, 1976;

Suffice to say, Potions was incredibly awkward. An invisible barrier had been erected between Scar and Dolohov, infusing their workstation in a bubble of strained silence. Scar was merely thankful Slughorn instructed that each student brew Amortentia solo and therefore, partnership wasn't a requirement. This time, Antonin completed his potion without any blunders and they spent most of the class in cold silence, their eyes stubbornly staring ahead. Adding to the awkwardness, she sensed two pairs of eyes boring into her back with disturbing intensity; apparently, James and Sirius had taken it upon themselves to closely monitor her interactions with the Slytherin after they were forced to play knight in shining armor to her damsel in distress two days back.

However, upon the fruition of her potion, Scar's waiting period was cut short with the arrival of a second year bearing a note from the Headmaster that inquired after her presence. Slughorn jovially sent her off, a calculating glint in his orbs that rankled the redhead, knowing that the Headmaster's evident personal interest in her managed to only intensify the Head of Slytherin's curiosity regarding her. The Slytherins outright stared at her, some in disgust and some in interest – already, rumors were going rampant around the castle that she was Dumbledore's 'Golden Girl', a complete disgrace in their opinion.

**She raised her fist, showcasing the words 'I must not tell lies' emblazoned on her skin, a mark of her torment under the hands of Umbridge and one she wouldn't forget easily. "I don't remember you rushing to my defense when I was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. I don't remember you coming to my defense when I insisted on my godfather's innocence. The Ministry wasn't so keen to be pals last year. Same Ministry that robbed me of a godfather," she icily concluded, glaring daggers at Minister Scrimgeour.

In retrospect, Scar knew she was channeling all her bottled up rage and hatred at Scrimgeour, but she didn't care. He wanted her to be the Ministry's mascot, while before him, Fudge chose her as its scapegoat. Scar was sick and tired of being used.

"What is Dumbledore up to?" he brusquely inquired after a moment's silence. "Where does he go when he is absent from Hogwarts?"

Shrugging, her expression one of utmost unconcern, she retorted, "No idea." Her ruined eyes then flickered to him and held his gaze, "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

His jaw clenched and his left eye twitched, an obvious sign of irritation, "Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other means."

Scar blatantly smirked at him. During her first three years at Hogwarts, she acted like a perfect princess in the presence of important officials, her behavior impeccable and her tone laced with deference. But towards the end of her third year, after the revelation of Sirius' innocence and discovering the life she could never have, one that was robbed of her – a life without abuse, in a house where she was loved unconditionally – well, Scar grew rebellious, and it only intensified when Fudge brushed her off and condemned her godfather to a life on the run that inevitably led to his death.

"You can try," her blatant smirk unwavering. "But you seem smarter than Fudge, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from his mistakes. He's no longer Minister, but Dumbledore is still Headmaster. I'd mind my own business if I were you. Concentrate on actually being a worthy Minister," she sneered towards the end.

After another long pause, Scrimgeour glared at her through narrowed eyes, the meeting obviously not having gone the direction he intended – not that Scar ever thought of making it easy for him. "Well it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you." Eyes cold and hard behind wire-rimmed glasses, he continued, his voice resembling the arctic, "Dumbledore's girl through and through, aren't you, Potter."

"And proud," Scar retorted, not missing a beat.**

Dumbledore's girl through and through; there was no doubting it… That never changed, and it never would.

As she gathered her belongings – stubbornly ignoring the intense onyx glare penetrating her person from her cantankerous seatmate – and slipped out of class, the dual slit-eyed glares of James and Sirius seared into her mind, intently following her form until the door snapped close behind her.

Dumbledore better have a good reason for singling her out!

Stepping into the Headmaster's Office, the redhead literally froze in place, her distorted orbs taking in the two unexpected individuals that sat before Albus, a witch and wizard she immediately recognized and, narrowing her gaze on Albus' casual posture, his steepled fingers, serene smile and the twinkle in his eyes that was directed at her in full force, Scar knew that whatever came next, it probably wouldn't bode well for her. An amused Albus didn't bode well for anybody as he had a sick sense of humor.

"Headmaster, you asked for me?" Scar's tone was cold as she maintained eye contact with Albus, deliberately disregarding the witch and wizard, both of whom were staring at her with transparent intrigue.

Albus beamed, his arm extended in a welcoming gesture. With a grand flourish of his wand, he conjured a plushy armchair. "Scarlett, please allow me to introduce you to He-"

Not bothering with the appropriate exchange of pleasantries, nor particularly caring that she was coming off as rude, Scar, her eyes flinty, icily interjected, "Yes, yes. I know who they are. Lord and Lady Longbottom. A pleasure, I'm sure." Stepping forward, she forced a tight-lipped smile, tossing the propriety handbook out the metaphorical window, "But you did not interrupt my day for unneeded introductions to the House of Longbottom, Headmaster."

Augusta's eyebrow jumped in astonishment at the interaction. In retrospect, she knew she should probably feel insulted at the girl's callousness towards the esteemed Leader of the Light and her ill-mannered disposition towards herself and her husband. But surprisingly, Augusta Longbottom found herself charmed by the girl's brazen and insouciance behavior… it was oddly refreshing. Also, their interaction painted a vivid picture; it had now become crystal clear that Albus and the mysterious Lady Emrys-Slytherin had a relationship that surpassed Headmaster and Student.

"Your bluntness never ceases to amaze me, dear girl," Albus chuckled. "Lemon drop?" he offered, almost cheekily. If possible, the redhead's eyes narrowed even more, "No. I do not want laced sweets, thank you very much." Her voice was as dry as the Sahara Desert. "Which brings me to why you believe I need help to remain calm."

After another bout of hearty chuckles, the Headmaster ushered her over, basically forcing her to take a seat. "Nonsense. No need for paranoia between friends, Scarlett," he grinned. Scar tossed him a deadpanned look and she folded her arms across her chest. Quirking an eyebrow, she maintained her silence and waited and he didn't disappoint. "Ah yes. You see, Henry and Augusta here specifically asked for you, my dear. They wished that I arrange a meeting with you."

Distorted orbs shifted to flicker between the Longbottoms, "Oh?"

"You strike me as a Lady who prefers to charge right in and get straight to the point," Henry prefaced in a raspy voice, interlacing his hands together. "Therefore, I shall be blunt with you, Lady Emrys-Slytherin. I owe you a life-debt and I am here to see it fulfilled."

She reared back, her composure slipping at the unexpected statement. Regaining her stoic mask, Scar protested, "I believe you have mistaken my identity for somebody else, Lord Longbottom. Your visit is a waste of yours and my time. Excuse me." She went to stand, ready to depart the premises and throw the amused Headmaster a withering glare, but Henry continued to smile at her, eyes warm and not at all offended by her briskness. "I appreciate your modesty, my Lady-"

"I'm not being modest," Scar curtly interjected, eyebrows knitting together as she squarely met his gaze. "I merely do not tolerate anybody wasting my time, not even a wizard of your stature."

Emitting a noncommittal sound, Augusta deemed it time to join the conversation, "As a Lady of two Ancient and most Noble Houses, I believe you are fully aware that rejecting a life-debt is the height of dishonor in our society."

Parting her lips to argue with the formidable woman, Henry calmly addressed her, his hazel orbs warm with gratitude, "You saved my life. I managed to identify a flash of your hair. I have been around for a long time, young lady. Nobody in Magical Britain possesses such a unique shade of hair. Arguing with me is futile as I also noticed you share the exact same voice as the witch who saved my life at the raid that occurred in Diagon Alley." He held her stare, openly challenging her, but Scar didn't take the bait, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Exhaling sharply from her nostrils, she nodded, resigned to accepting the debt. "Very well, Lord Longbottom. I accept. I only ask that you keep my identity a secret and consider your debt paid in full."

Henry and Augusta exchanged shocked expressions, not quite believing their ears, and even Albus appeared to be surprised, an achievement the redhead took pride in.

"I am afraid that is not possible," Augusta sternly revealed. "We have already shared our suspicions with our son, Frank." Observing the flash of resignation pass through her strange eyes, one that gave Augusta the impression that Lady Emrys-Slytherin expected to be burnt at a pyre, she quickly offered her words of comfort, "He is immensely grateful to you and will not speak a word to anyone."

Clearing his throat, Henry smiled, "Yes… which brings us to what we initially hoped to offer as a price of the life-debt, something that would prove beneficial to both our families. I wish to form an alliance between the Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom and the Noble and most Ancient Houses of Emrys and Slytherin. An oath of fealty."

Scar deftly masked a smirk. Who knew Henry Longbottom could be so sneaky? Swearing fealty to her would not only ensure Frank kept her identity a secret, but would also protect the Longbottoms from Voldemort's wrath for the meantime as her title held power over the Light, Dark and even Neutral factions and the Dark Lord wouldn't wish to provoke her until he managed to gain an audience with her and discover where her loyalties lay. Also, the alliance between them would generate doubt in the strictly Light Families, such as the Bones', the McKinnon's, the Prewett's, the Weasley's and the Potter's.

The idea had merit…

She openly smirked, no longer concealing her emotions behind a mask of apathy, "I believe you have yourself a deal, Lord Longbottom. I accept."

"Please, we are allies now. Call me Henry."

Rolling her eyes, Scar whipped round to meet Rabastan's steady gaze. "You're staring," she hissed.

After a quick and unsatisfactory lunch at the Great Hall where she attempted – key word: attempted – to ignore the blatant stares boring into her person from the sixth year Gryffindors, none of whom had the courage to inquire over what the Headmaster wanted from her, Scar rushed to the Greenhouse to apologize to Professor Sprout for her absence. Sprout waved her apology off with a bright smile – not only did Dumbledore inform her that Scar might not be able to attend class due to 'personal reasons', but ever since she protected her little badger, Sophia Marsh, from Areena Parkinson and her cronies, she had succeeded in gaining the Head of Hufflepuff's favor, an easy feat if you ask her, since Scar had an absolute zero tolerance for bullying.

Due to the long distance between the Greenhouse and the Arithmancy classroom, Scar arrived just seconds after class started and from the moment she hurriedly deposited herself in her customary seat next to Rabastan Lestrange, the handsome Slytherin had yet to take his eyes off her, the intensity of his unblinking gaze irking her.

"I'm contemplating," he retorted with a smirk. She arched an eyebrow in question, prompting him to go ahead and ask, "What did Dumbledore want?"

Scar couldn't help but let out a particularly loud scoff, prompting Remus, Lily and Antonin to fixate their attention onto them. The redhead glowered back before focusing on Rabastan, "I fail to see how exactly it's any of your business?"

"We're friends, aren't we?" was his cheeky response, eyes intently holding her gaze. Her eyebrow joined the other, disappearing into her hairline, "You mean only when it suits you, hmm? Lemme guess-" her distorted eyes slammed into a pair of onyx that had yet to detach from her person, "-Dolohov put you up to this? Get close to me, learn all my secrets, then what? What's next on the agenda, huh?" she sneered.

Rabastan clammed up, blue-grey orbs as cold as an iceberg and his face appearing as though it had been carved out of stone.

The redhead emitted a mirthless snort, "You know, there's a Muggle saying: Silence speaks louder than words." She stared at him pointedly, her lips twisted in a contemptuous sneer. For some reason, she felt betrayed. She honestly thought Rabastan genuinely liked her – platonically, of course. "I was wrong about you," she quietly mused as Professor Crux dismissed the class. Jumping to her feet, she shot him a parting glare, "I won't make that mistake again."

Sauntering out of class, Scar purposely shoved past Antonin's shoulder as he came to join the eerily silent Rabastan's side.

Target acquired, Scar put her game face on and confidently approached the Slytherin who sat in a corner of the Library, pouring through a myriad of books that were spread throughout the table along with Arithmancy charts and rune dictionaries, reminiscent of Hermione during their third year.

A shadow fell upon Regulus and he abruptly looked up, efficiently concealing his surprise when his turquoise eyes collided with the unique shade that belonged to the last person he ever expected to approach him. Her plump lips gently spread into a soft smile as her hand hovered over the chair opposite him in query, "May I?"

He was torn on how to proceed; should he maintain his apathetic, cold Pureblood exterior, or treat her with the reverence her titles deserved, regardless of her sorting into Gryffindor. In the end, Regulus decided neutrality was his best bet. Straightening his posture, he gave her a curt nod and with the toe of his shoe, kicked the chair out, sliding it open for her. Her barely noticeable smile exponentially grew and she eagerly took the proffered seat with grace.

Almost instantaneously, the barely audible whispers intensified and spread throughout the Library; apparently Scar and Regulus were the center of everyone's attention. Severus Snape, who sat in a dark alcove a distance away from intrusive eyes, observed them intently without their knowledge – or so he thought; Rabastan, Antonin, Rodolphus and Bellatrix, the four of whom had just walked in to join Lucius and Narcissa, raised a questioning eyebrow, and while Bellatrix was apoplectic with rage and Rodolphus maintained an indifferent expression, Rabastan and Antonin had mixed emotions, their curiosity surging. The Gryffindors however, were a completely different story: as per the norm, Sirius pretended his brother was invisible and had joined James in the attempt to cajole Remus out of studying to hopefully, accompany them sneak into Honeydukes. The moment the vexing redhead approached his little brother, he stiffened perceptibly and glared daggers at them, hoping, but failing, to overhear their conversation.

Scar smirked – a smirk that held various meanings and Regulus quirked an eyebrow at her, comprehension subtly dawning on his handsome face. "That's quite a reaction," he drawled, eyes intent on her instead of the many invasive eyes boring into them, and she didn't disappoint. Her smirk grew, a hint of deviousness to it that managed to evoke the fifth-year's intrigue. "Yes. Not very subtle, are they?"

He made a noncommittal sound, amusement briefly flashing past his impassive orbs, "What can I do for you, Lady Emrys-Slytherin?"

"I have a proposition for you," she prefaced, her fingers laced together and her focus entirely on him. "How would you like to be friends?"

Regulus tilted his head, apathy bleeding out as confusion replaced it. "I'm sorry… I think I misheard you. Can you repeat that?"

She placed her right elbow on the table and propped her chin in her open palm, her smirk melting into solemnity to portray her standpoint regarding the strange proposal. "You didn't mishear me, Mr. Black. And no, you haven't misunderstood me either. It's simple really. I want us-" she emphasized her point by wagging her index finger between herself and him, "-to be friends," she disclosed in a firm voice. Regulus blinked a couple of times before recovering his impassive mask and he emitted a particularly scathing scoff, "I didn't peg you as a Hufflepuff."

"Oh, trust me, I'm advertising my Slytherin colors, Mr. Black. And proudly so," and her smirk was back tenfold, her strange orbs running across his face for any chinks in his armor, but his face remained stony. Sighing, she decided to spell out her motives, "I believe a friendship between us could be very advantageous. I've had an eye on you for quite some time, observing the nonexistent relationship between you and your brother…connecting the dots here and there." Her smirk fell as his expression turned stoic, rage burning in his eyes. He clenched his fists until they turned bone-white and Scar's concern surged when the Slytherin's entire form started to tremble in rage. "I'm not mocking you, Regulus," she softly assured him.

Turquoise orbs sharply pinned her in place, gauging her. He had expected sympathy, an emotion that would only fuel his rage – he didn't need anybody's pity! – but instead, she squarely met his penetrating gaze, allowing him to get a truthful read on her, and empathy was written all across the redhead's face, surprising him and concurrently, quelling his tongue from spitting out a litany of poisonous and hurtful words.

"What do you want from me?" and to his shame, he sounded weak, like the little boy who had once been afraid of the dark, and only the embrace of his big brother encased him in safety; like the teenager he currently was allowing resignation to consume him from the inside out. From the moment Scarlett Emrys-Slytherin stepped foot into Hogwarts, shrouded in mystery and a giant, impenetrable shield that warned everyone away lest they risked her wrath, Regulus witnessed a certain softness to her; currently, she was looking at him as though he was worthy, like he was a fellow human in possession of a beating heart, and not just the spare brother, standing by the sidelines in wait for the moment he would be needed to take over and do damage control, though only out of necessity.

"I want to help you, Regulus," Scar's hand hovered next to his, almost as though she wanted the physical contact but knew better. His eyebrows knit together in frustration, but before he could volley some caustic retort, she crossed her legs and confidently proceeded. "I'm going to be perfectly blunt with you and lay all my cards on the table. How you choose to respond is entirely up to you. …You're scared. When I look at you, despite that impressive mask you parade throughout the castle, that's what I see: a scared boy."

Again, Regulus, his eyes tightening in anger, parted his lips to interrupt. "I'm not scared, of anything!" he harshly spat out. But the redhead was wholly unaffected by his tone and continued undeterred, her next words spoken matter-of-factly, "Yes, you are." She held up a hand, promptly halting any further interruptions. "Of the future. The future terrifies you. Not the unknown prospect, but the known. You, Regulus, know exactly where you'll be and that! That is what scares you."

His taut jaw relaxed as his teeth unclenched, his rage morphing into surprise and, if Scar wasn't mistaken, fear.

"Sirius had never been the poster boy for Slytherin, he never looked down on Muggles and those not of pure blood," she sneered, the words 'pure' and 'blood' escaping her lips as though it were toxic, painting a vivid picture for the Slytherin in regards to her beliefs on blood purity. "And when the Sorting Hat placed him in Gryffindor, all your suspicions cemented. When you decided to follow tradition and get sorted into Slytherin, the weakened bond between you and Sirius tore. Don't worry, this is all on Sirius," her lips pulled into a comforting and slightly conspiratorial smile, though her eyes were hard with disapproval. "He's your big brother, his job is to protect you, to be there for you, but instead, he abandoned you. But, I'm not here to fathom the workings of your idiot brother's mind."

That drew a surprised snicker out of the young Slytherin, and Scar felt warmth engulf her. She always had a soft spot for Regulus; when her Sirius first informed her of his Death Eater brother who died too young, her heart went out to him. She understood Sirius's reasons for abandoning him, but being in the past, seeing everything with her own two eyes and experiencing it, Scar couldn't help but feel that her godfather had the perfect opportunity, was in the best position, to save him from the dark path of servitude and death. However, Kreacher's tale promoted Regulus Black to one of her idols – the Slytherin deduced Voldemort created Horcruxes with barely anything to go on and set out to, if not destroy, at least defy, his 'Master'. Regulus Black was a misguided boy and he died an unsung hero and Scar would kill to save him from such a gruesome and lonely fate.

Regulus Black would not die in a cold cave, his body lost forevermore in an Inferi-infested lake if Scarlett had anything to say about it.

"I'm willing to bet my Wizengamot seats, that your mother expects your brother to become a Death Eater in the coming Yule," she randomly uttered with astounding confidence. Turquoise orbs widened and he very nearly toppled off his chair, spluttering all the while at her precise prediction. She smirked bitterly, "But you and I, and probably even your mother and deranged cousin Bella over there-" she absently jabbed her thumb over her shoulder to where she sensed Bellatrix sat, Regulus blinking at her blind accuracy, "-know that Sirius would rather chop off his own arm than be branded like cattle." Regulus winced at the backhanded insult, but Scar shrugged it off, "Which leaves…you."

He nodded somberly, "What about me."

"Oh, don't play coy with me, Mr. Black," the redhead smirked, her eyes doing a half eye roll. "And the dumb act doesn't suit you either, so cut it out. With Sirius out of the picture, that leaves you to step up and 'make the Black Family proud'," she air-quoted in a snide tone, her distaste unequivocally clear. "And you don't have it in you to disappoint. You're terrified because you know by next Yule, you'll be a Death Eater and you, despite your attempts to show otherwise, don't want that."

A heavy silence hung overhead, emerald-violets intensely connected to a pair of emotional turquoise orbs, none of them backing down from the stare-off. He held his breath as he scrutinized her; she was sly and cunning – two traits Salazar Slytherin valued and possessed – and definitely left no doubt to her cleverness. She made it abundantly clear without the use of words, that she opposed Voldemort and the bigoted pureblood beliefs, a controversy to her title as Lady Slytherin, which brought more doubt.

…What if this was all a test?

On the other hand, she didn't strike him as a cruel person.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered in defeat, repeating his previous statement.

Uncrossing her legs, she leaned forward and smiled, a genuine expression that filled him with the warmth he desperately needed and lacked in his life, and simply said, "I want to be your friend. Your shoulder to cry on. The person you speak your mind to and trade ideas with. The person that will show you the right path and the person that will never lead you astray. You don't ever have to be alone. With me by your side, you don't ever have to conform to anyone's will or expectations but your own." Standing up, she brushed down her skirt, "Think about it and once you've come to a decision, find me. It was nice talking to you, Mr. Black." And with a parting wink, she sashayed out of the Library.

Pausing by the three Marauders, she smirked at them, the cold glint in her eyes belying the cheeky pull of her lips, "Potter, Black, next time you choose to tail me around the castle, I implore you to have second thoughts, because I won't be as forgiving." Pinning their shocked faces, she glared daggers and departed the premises.

She already placed her offer on the table and gave Regulus the escape and choice nobody bothered to provide him. What Regulus chose to do with it, was entirely up to him.

The ball was now in his court.

September 20th, 1976;

He felt the need to defend their actions, knowing fully well that if James and Sirius knew Remus was attempting to make excuses for them to 'Enemy Number 1' – insert eye roll – they would be severely displeased. Since becoming her Ancient Runes partner and having neighboring beds in their short stint in the Hospital Wing, Remus found that he could no longer ignore Moony's incessant howls about Scarlett Emrys-Slytherin being part of his pack – an enigma he had yet to confide in his fellow Marauders out of fear they would abandon him.

"I'm sorry about James and Sirius." Repeating many different scenarios in his head, Remus finally decided to preface with that and he mentally facepalmed, realizing belatedly how pitiful it sounded. Thankfully, the redhead merely turned from her classwork to meet his gaze with amusement, an eyebrow arched. Stuttering and stumbling with his words, a profuse blush spread across his visage and stopped at the tip of his ears, his amber orbs averted, "I me-mean, what I, what I meant to say is that… well, James and Sirius they, well." He clamped his mouth shut, swallowed, cleared his throat and spoke in a much more calmer and confident manner, "They're idiots. Arrogant idiots who rarely get caught sneaking around so naturally, they got caught up in their own arrogance… I'm sure if they knew you were aware of them following you around they wouldn't have done so in the first place."

Her amusement intensified and a bell-like giggle escaped her lips, "Yes, they would." Inhaling deeply, she slowly exhaled and with a gentle smile, said, "You don't have to make excuses for them, Remus. Contrary to what you believe, it's not your job. But, I am touched you spent the better half of the lesson rehearsing that impressive speech in your head."

Remus grinned sheepishly, "You, uh, caught that, huh? Not much gets past you."

"Nope," she beamed, popping the 'p'. Her expression then became serious, "No, but seriously, stop making excuses for them. You can sugarcoat your words but I know how much they despise and distrust me. And I'm cool with it. My decision to attend Hogwarts wasn't based on making friends." And with a friendly pat to his shoulder, Scar gathered her belongings and began closing the distance to the door.

Amber orbs narrowing on Dolohov and Lestrange, Moony inwardly growled, not liking the way their stares followed her every move and he immediately pursued her, slightly out of breath. "Hey," he panted. "Let me walk you back."

Bemused, violet-greens scrutinized him for a moment before she slowly shrugged a shoulder and, uncertainty tingeing her voice, agreed. A surge of guilt spread inside of him when, the moment they walked through the Fat Lady's portrait, Scar pretended they weren't on friendly terms and ascended the stairs to the girls' dormitories, upon seeing the suspicious and narrowed glares aimed towards him and the redhead. Only Lily wasn't fooled as she had been sneakily observing their relationship mature from acquaintances to friends, however, other than a disappointed look aimed at Remus, she didn't breathe a word and joined Marlene and Dorcas by the futon.

"For a second there, I thought you and Emrys-Slytherin were friends," Sirius sneered in distaste at the mere thought of anybody choosing to befriend the sneaky Slytherin. James looked to be in agreement however, he mischievously retorted, "Padfoot's still furious about seeing her with Regulus."

"Am not," the Black heir growled, sounding eerily like his Animagus form. He then focused his attention back onto the werewolf, silver eyes as hard as steel, "Anyways. You. Emrys-Slytherin. You've anything to say, Moony?" Remus rolled his eyes, adamantly ignoring both, Lily's patented 'I am so disappointed in you, I thought you were better than that' look, and the guilt churning in his belly. Flashing Sirius his signature 'you're an idiot' grin, he clapped him on the back, "Course not, Padfoot. We're just partners until Vector decides it's time to shuffle us again."

Suspicion diminishing, Sirius's orbs softened and he let out a bark-like laugh, "I knew that. Silly thought."

"Yeah," Remus chuckled, scratching the nape of his neck – a nervous tick James knew and therefore, unbeknownst to the werewolf, James instantly caught his lie, though thankfully, decided to keep it to himself for now. However, keeping it to himself didn't mean he was going to make it easy for the werewolf and he began to blatantly badmouth the Slytherin descendant, Sirius, Peter and even Marlene, joining in.

Alice, who was snuggled comfortably in Frank's embrace, traded a horrified look with an ashamed Lily and Dorcas, unable to believe their blonde friend had the capability of being so mean. Remus squirmed uncomfortably, ashamed yet aware that if he maintained his silence it would only evoke Sirius's suspicions.

What horrified them the most however, was when the subject of their insults, her expression impassive and distorted orbs blank, casually strutted past them and out of the common room, evidently unbothered by their defamation.

"Marlene!" Lily shrieked. "That was uncalled for. I didn't know you could be so rude! What's wrong with you?"

The blonde scoffed, not the least bit ashamed about the fact that Scar overheard them, "What? I don't trust her, Lils. Nobody here does. You're just too nice to admit it."

But to their amazement, Frank intervened, "I do." Prompting all eyes to be fixated on them, dumfounded to their very core. "She hasn't done anything to warrant your hatred and cruelty. Frankly, if being a Gryffindor means abandoning one of our own and treating her like a pariah, then I'm ashamed to be a Lion." And, parting them with an expression filled with disgust, he stormed off to his dormitory, Fabian and Gideon at his heels.

Lily glared at the Marauders and Marlene and, without sparing them another word, took Frank's example, Dorcas and Alice joining her.

Shocked, James, Sirius, Peter and Marlene gaped at their retreating backs.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Sirius demanded, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows furiously knitting together. Remus responded by taking their lead and leaving them on their own, seeking solace in his dormitory.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

That particular phrase reverberated in the recess of her mind as she covered the distance between the Gryffindor Common Room and the Headmaster's Office. That phrase had been her saving grace from her childhood when Dudley and his goons mocked and insulted her without abandon. A phrase she carried with her throughout her years at Hogwarts when, one year she'd be painted a hero, and the next, vilified as the next Dark Lady.

Scarlett was no stranger to name-calling, abuse and slanderous remarks and insults hurled behind her back and to her face. But it didn't mean it hurt any less, especially from the teenaged versions of her father and godfather.

"I'm sorry, dear girl," Albus apologized, sympathizing with the redhead. She scoffed and rolled her eyes as she deposited herself in her customary armchair the Headmaster started reserving for her. Of course Albus Dumbledore overheard the ugly exchange that recently took place – nothing ever got past him; he probably had portraits spying on everyone for him.

She absentmindedly waved a hand in the air and forced a smile, "Before I traveled to the past, your future-self warned me… told me that, whatever happens, Sirius isn't my godfather and James isn't my father. So, I'm really trying to not take it personally."

"How very commendable of you," Albus sadly remarked. Shaking his head, he changed the subject, "What brings you here?"

Adopting a professional disposition, Scar cleared her throat and dove right into business, "I believe it's time to get proactive, Dumbledore. I mistakenly thought I had more time, until the end of next year, but, alas, Henry Longbottom proved me wrong. The Horcruxes can be left alone for now. I'd prefer we destroy Voldemort's anchors moments before killing him. However, there are more pressing matters we need to tackle. The ambush at Diagon Alley was just the beginning. According to your notes, by October, many raids shall take place. My interference might have changed a few things as the Death Eaters were most probably informed by Tom that the Aurors won't be aiming to kill, but to capture alive. Nevertheless, I'd feel more comfortable stationing myself in all the locations he chose to raid, hopefully with backup from the Order."

"I believe you are correct, my dear girl," the guilt ate at him. "Tom knows about my proclivity for redemption." Surprise consumed the redhead and it must have shown on her face, for Albus smiled halfheartedly, "Yes, I believe I have, as the Muggles say, turned over a new leaf. I shall have a few words with the Head of DMLE, your grandfather-" he twinkled at her from over half-moon spectacles, "-about dealing the death blow instead of capturing Death Eaters alive."

A bubble of surprised, yet relieved, laughter escaped Scar's lips, "Moody will be pleased."

"I believe so. You've intrigued him," he informed her, gazing at her like he always did: like a proud and genial grandfather. "On that matter, Scarlett, I believe the time has come to introduce you to the Order. They shall not be privy to the truth, only that you're the only survivor of one of Tom's raids and wish to fight. I'll vouch for you," he chuckled.

Scar rolled her eyes, amusement coloring her features, "Of that I had no doubt. On another note, I cannot, in good conscience, allow Anastasiya to remain Voldemort's prisoner for a second longer."

"I quite agree. Nor can I."

"However," Scar stressed, conflicted as she weighed the pros and the cons of liberating Anastasiya. "While eventually advantageous in ridding us from Voldemort's plague as it will create doubt within the pureblood community, the truth of Anastasiya's whereabouts cannot come out. Not only would her life be in constant danger, but it would completely destroy the timeline and I'll be going in blind."

Eyebrows arched, Albus couldn't deny Scarlett made a compelling argument. "I assume you have a plan…" he trailed off questioningly.

"…We kill her."

It was an hour past midnight when he finally decided to make an appearance.

The redhead stepped out of the shadows and allowed the pair of blazing onyx orbs to identify her.

"You."

Her voice calm, Scar stated, "You already knew it was me. I'm sure you've had my handwriting committed to memory from our first potions class."

Before she could change her mind, the moment the redhead concluded brainstorming with the Headmaster, she headed straight to the owlery and sent one of the school owls to Antonin, demanding they speak urgently. She knew he couldn't refuse the opportunity to finally receive answers and quell his curiosity, and Scar played on that, using it for her means.

There was no going back and truth be told, Scar was utterly terrified.

"I assumed you no longer wished to be on speaking terms with me," he dryly admitted. His poor choice of words produced a cynical scoff and, after casting a few extremely powerful privacy charms that had the Slytherin's eyebrows jump to dangerous levels, said, "You're confusing yourself with Lestrange. I have a business proposition for you, Dolohov, and I need you to listen to everything I have to say-"

Glaring viciously at her, he sneered, "I don't care about the needs of a filthy blood traitor."

He turned around and went to leave.

"Not even if this filthy blood traitor has information regarding your sister's whereabouts?"

A/N: I know, I know. After leaving you all hanging for over a year, I give you a cliffhanger. I'm horrible… I know! But things are finally moving quickly, Scar's going to start taking action and that requires a chapter of its own, so sue me. LOL!

I hope you found this chapter enjoyable after the long wait, which I totally apologize for, but, like I said, I didn't, nor would I ever, abandon this story.

Next chapter, the fun begins! XD

R&R.