A/N: First off, I'm so, so sorry it's been so long. Please know that I intend on making good on my promise to complete this story, but it probably will take an indecent amount of time. Still, you guys are keeping this fic alive, and you're absolutely amazing, and I'm incredibly grateful.

Anyway, I still don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter Eighteen

In Which I'm Right about Something

"Oi, so the Chasers can't throw for shit, but the Beaters can hold their own, so…"

Watts's voice droned on while I shivered and didn't look up.

Of the four Aurors administered to St. Mungo's, three have undergone extensive disenchantments and charms but remain unresponsive—

"Bloody listen to me, you utter twat! You've got the perceptive talents of a pygmy puff!"

"What, I- I'm listening!" I protested, shoving a small mountain of papers under my robes and meeting Alan Watts's stormy glare with what I hoped were innocently wide eyes. "Beaters and- and bludgers, and all that."

"Watch the game." Watts didn't take his eyes off the pitch as he growled at me, and I, ever the petulant coward, made a face at his back. Watts was not dissuaded. "And the rest of you lot can quit your whining or be prepared to wear a new path in the track doing laps."

I heard Amelia Saunders groan from the seat below me. "We're whining because otherwise we'll realize that we're succumbing to the third stage of hypothermia for the sake of a Quidditch scrimmage."

I wasn't brave enough to affirm this out loud, but I reckoned she had a point. We all wanted to go home. Or, we wanted go skulk in the alluringly above-freezing temperatures of the dorms, I guess, but the point stands.

Anyway, it was cold as all hell outside, and on top of that I had three essays due that week, avoiding any interaction whatsoever with James Potter was as difficult as ever, and my left thigh was starting to lose feeling after being a cushion for Sarah for the past hour. Also, I was meant to be researching a theory that sounded like it belonged in an unedited edition of The Quibbler, so.

Skulking in the dorm was sounding pretty good about then.

I snuck another look at our fearless Captain, who seemed to be growing more homicidal by the minute.

I could hear yells from on the pitch, but the stands were quiet, and nothing had actually happened on the pitch for the past half hour, so I tore my gaze away from Watts and took a calculated risk.

… Yet to divulge the nature of the Auror's business in the city, though many have speculated that the mounting tensions between pureblood advocacy groups a-

"Oi, you better well be deaf to be ignoring me!" I flung my hand over my papers as Watts' dulcet tones filled the frigid air. "Simmons!"

"Listening!" I met his gaze a little too frantically. "I'm listening!"

I could feel the eyes of the team on me as Watts' glare burned through me, and I noticed James eyeing the articles on my lap with furrowed brows— but I wasn't even going to think about that, for starters, because I didn't have the emotional capacity.

A paper rustled under my robe.

"Oh, bloody-" Watts made a grab for the stack of articles stashed none-so-subtly down the front of my shirt. I shrieked at the cold air that rushed in as he yanked the pile away from me, and I imagine I looked a sight, cursing and shivering and nursing papercuts in areas that would be very hard to explain out of context.

Watts shook his head vengefully. "What's this rubbish, then? 'Four Aurors Hospitalized In Essex,'" he read roughly. "'Victims of Essex Ambush Unresponsive,' 'Ministry Releases Names of Essex Aurors, Taurus Rosier to-'"

I shrieked.

"I need that!" I made a wild grab for the article Watts had clutched in his left hand, and Sarah yelped as my leg was wrenched from under her.

Because Merlin is a bloody sadist, Watts managed to yank the article out of my reach just as I dove for it, and I let out a strangled cry as I lurched forward.

"Argh!"

"Ah- er, Simmons?"

Harvey was looking down at me where I was unfortunately sprawled across his lap, and I groaned.

"Godric, sorry, I-" I scrambled to untangle myself from the mess of limbs between Harvey and I as the obligatory chorus of snickers broke out. I wondered, on a scale of strawberry to fire truck, how red my face was.

"Wow, you're, erm, strong," I mumbled, patting Harvey's arm awkwardly. I cleared my throat. "Very, um. Muscles."

From the bench above, Fred and Sarah each grabbed one of my arms to haul me back up before I could further stain the remnants of my dignity.

"Agh- erm." I coughed and did my best to settle in between Sarah and Fred, a feat which ended with the majority of my weight sprawled on Sarah's legs as she protested vehemently. I dusted myself off and addressed the group, wondering how badly it would really hurt to throw myself off the stands. "Sorry, about… that- Oh, look." I pointed vaguely. "The 'Puffs've got the Quaffle."

The latter statement did less to dissuade Watts's glare as it did to attract more raised eyebrows from the stands around us, and I winced. "Well, lo-"

"Simmons," Alan said, looking very much like he needed a headache potion, "watch the bloody match."

I nodded just fast enough to give myself whiplash. "Yes, sir," I saluted with what I now think may have been the wrong hand. "Won't happen again," I promised even as I grimaced. "It's just… I kind of- maybe- might need those papers ba-"

"I'm not giving you your sodding papers, Simmons."

"Right. Yes. Yes, sir."

Watts nodded shortly and then turned to address the remainder of the team, which is not to say that they hadn't already been watching with varying degrees of glee. "So, like I was saying, if we're going to beat the 'Claws next week- Charlotte Simmons!"

I tore my gaze away from the papers in his hands. "You know my first name!" I cried gleefully.

"For Godric's sake-"

Under me, Sarah cackled, and I huffed.

I'd already dug myself into a hole; I might as well put the shovel to good use.

"We weren't even supposed to have practice today," I pointed out, "but you had to go and cancel last month's practice early because no one on this team knows bloody conflict resolution."

I crossed my arms, partly to combat the cold and partly to protest the injustice that when Harvey and Alan argued, practice was cancelled, but when James and I argued, we ran extra laps. Sarah patted my leg gingerly from underneath me, and I huffed again as Alan had the decency to look almost abashed.

He was determinedly not looking at Harvey, who was watching Alan and cackling maniacally from the bench below me for reasons I felt like I didn't quite understand. "We've worked through that," Alan said flatly, "and-"

"I'll bet you have." Amelia snickered, also from the bench below me and for reasons I didn't understand.

There was a chorus of stifled giggles, and I did my best to turn to face the culprits, but it was rather hard to see anything through the growing layer of ice on my eyelashes.

"Anyway." Alan covered the quiet that had fallen over the group as quickly as he could, and I shrunk back as much as I could with Sarah as my back rest. "I'll give the sodding papers back at the end of the match if you actually bloody watch it," Watts said with all the stern dignity of a professor.

To my left, Fred and James were still engrossed in a conversation that I really hoped didn't end with me involved, and across the pitch, the 'Claw's chasers hurled the Quaffle into the far right hoop, tying the game for what felt like the tenth time in the match. The crowd erupted into a smattering of shivering applause.

I groaned. "Bloody hell, we're going to be out here all day."

Alan rolled his eyes. "You clearly need the practice."

Well. Rude.

From underneath me, Sarah grumbled. "We'll freeze before we learn anything useful," she said with a glower.

"And a dead team isn't a productive team," I finished for her.

Watts pointed a gloved finger squarely at my nose. "Thin ice, Simmons."

I saluted briskly. "Yes, sir."

"Harvey," Amelia whined, crossing her arms around herself and sniffling dejectedly, "convince your boyfriend that our lives are worth more than this scrimmage."

I blinked. Harvey and- Alan and-

"Wait." I blinked again, just to be sure, and then gasped. "You two can't be dating!" I protested, which a beat after saying so I slapped my hand to my forehead.

Harvey turned on the bench to face me as I tried frantically to patch up the damages. "Why?" He asked tiredly, and I wanted to kick myself for my poor phrasing.

I put my head in my hands and didn't look to my left, where Fred and a nameless other had glanced up from their scheming. "No, godric, I- You two are rivals! You're nemesi- nemeses?" I shook my head. "You're rivals! You bicker all the time!"

When I looked back at him, Harvey had also put his palm to his face, but he was muffling his laughter. He addressed me with a long-suffering expression. "We can't be dating… because we used to fight?" He glanced at me for clarification, and I nodded emphatically, too aware of the smirk that was probably waiting to my left.

I was not looking left I was not not looking left I was not look-

James met my gaze, and I screeched. "That— that is not what I-"

Before I could finish formulating whatever rubbish heap of a sentence was about to leave my mouth, the team's attention snapped to the pitch, where there was a figure plummeting from his broom.

"What the-"

"Godric, is he—"

And just like that, I was interested in the game.

I stood with the rest of the team and craned my neck to see the floor of the pitch below, where the Ravenclaw Seeker was currently lying spread-eagle on the ground.

"Merlin, is he okay?" Harvey was watching the figure sprawled on the pitch with a look of growing horror on his face.

"Better than Jonathan Singer's going to be next time I see him," Fred growled with his gaze still focused on the sky above the pitch, where Singer hovered.

I blinked and glanced from Singer to the fallen Seeker and figured I was missing a pretty vital piece of information. "What happened?"

Alan sighed and for once didn't reprimand me for my inattention to the game. "Singer committed a foul against Hart, just the same way he did to Amelia," he told me darkly. "What a coincidence."

Our eyes tracked the movement of at least three teachers as they waited for either a healer or a referee to make a call. I narrowed my eyes at the scene, because Watts was right; Singer had done this before, and it wasn't a coincidence. "Once is a coincidence," I muttered. "Twice is suspicious." I blinked. "I need the paper back!"

"Simmons, now's not the time-" Watts yanked the papers out of my grasp, but this time I was willing to put both my pride and person on the line.

"I just need-"

"-not going to- agh, Simmons!"

"-think Taurus Rosier- Ha!"

I clutched the reclaimed papers like a lifeline as I scanned over them for the right article. "Rosier, Rosier… where- James!"

The boy in question jerked his gaze to me with surprise, and what could have been a little trepidation, in his eyes. "Charlie?"

I pointed at him with the rolled-up paper in my right hand and leaned forward over Sarah. "Was Taurus Rosier one of the Aurors with your father the night of the ambush?"

His brows furrowed. "Yeah, but why-"

"No time!" I declared as I pushed through to the stairs on the aisles of the stands and whirled back to James. "I'll fill you in tomorrow," I promised, and then hurried down the stairs as fast as my frostbitten legs would carry me.

"Oi, Charlie!" Sarah shoved her way into step beside me and grabbed my elbow at the bottom of the stairs. "What's this about?"

I waved the crumpled paper in my hand. "Taurus Rosier."

Sarah huffed, and I watched the cloud of her breath be swept away in the bitter wind. "Elaborate," she demanded shortly.

"He was the fifth Auror on the mission with Harry Potter last month, yeah? The one who gave the statement to the press." Sarah nodded impatiently, and I shook my head. "He was the fourth Auror on the mission with Jack, too," I explained quickly, turning toward the castle. "Which means that in both cases, he was the only one not hospitalized after the ambush."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "You've got proof of that?"

I waved the paper again. "If the tabloids count, yeah."

Sarah bit her lip and nodded slowly. "And if it happens twice…"

"It's bloody suspicious," I finished.

. . .

We had to blackmail the Fat Lady to get out of the Common Room. (Tara's intimate involvement in the rumor mill had been singularly helpful on that front— we'd gathered intel on an illicit affair in the portrait realm and used it to our advantage.)

(I didn't feel guilty in the slightest, either; some third year girl had been harping about me using a dare to get my way with James in the common room, and after hostile interrogation she admitted she'd gotten her information from the Fat Lady. But that was a problem for another day.)

"This is a bloody stupid idea," Sarah grumbled as we climbed through the portrait hole. It wasn't news to either of us.

In fact, it was a bad idea for a multitude of reasons.

First, there was the absence of any plan besides "get to Mungo's," followed closely by the fact that we hadn't the foggiest idea of how to go about enacting said plan. I also knew Filch's cat patrolled these hallways and I wasn't nearly masochistic enough to ask James to borrow his map again, so our chances of getting caught were discouragingly high, and I'd sat through enough detentions for a lifetime.

The staircase rumbled ahead of me as I turned back to Sarah. "You're still here, aren't you?" I whispered in what it thought was her general direction, but it was too dim to really tell.

"To keep you from getting bloody arrested," Sarah hissed. "How the hell do you plan on getting to Mungo's from here?"

I reached the landing of the stairs and swallowed. "We've both got brooms, haven't we?" The staircase moved agonizingly slowly toward the adjoining one, and I waited impatiently. I still couldn't see much in the flickering light, and I couldn't risk using my wand, but I trusted that Sarah was behind me.

"What are you going to do, get your broom from the pitch and fly there?" She demanded.

I shrugged and surged forward as the stairs jolted to a stop.

I heard Sarah huff behind me as she hurried to catch up. "Charlie!"

I made a frantic shushing noise and whirled to face her. "You think I like my options right now any more than you do?" I whispered a little more harshly than I meant to and crossed my arms. "I never said you have to come with me."

Sarah scoffed. "Obviously I'm coming with you," she said. "But this is a bad idea."

I started forward again. "If you can give me a better one, I'll—argh!"

I bounced off whatever poor sod I'd run into and toppled down a stair or two with a shriek before someone managed to grab me by the waist and show me the mercy of pulling me to my feet.

I squinted in the dim light and decided falling down the stairs would have been the better option.

"Alright, Simmons?" James asked with too much laughter to be genuine.

To be fair, everyone else was also laughing, which was brilliant.

"I'm just spiffy," I growled.

Sarah, ever the traitor, was doing little to hide her amusement. "Lucky thing that James was there to catch you," she said.

I huffed in outrage. "Catch me? He's the one who ran into me!"

I couldn't see, but I'm positive James raised an eyebrow. "Only of us was barreling blindly down the stairs, Simmons, and it wasn't me."

I scoffed petulantly, but I couldn't really argue with that. "What are you even doing up?" I hissed instead of pursuing a losing battle.
"Midnight snack in the kitchen," Fred said airily, and I jumped. I hadn't really realized he was there up until then. "The real question is what are you doing up?"

"I- I mean, we- erm." I crossed my arms. "We don't have to explain ourselves to you," I said primly.

"Suit yourself, but anything we come up with will be loads worse than the truth," Fred said.

Sarah sighed. "We were… on a midnight snack run, too," she said like a question.

Fred seemed to consider this, but James scoffed and turned to me. "What are you really doing?"

I shrunk back. "I— was hungry!"

James nodded solemnly and gave me a beat of satisfaction before dashing my hopes. "You're a very bad liar," he told me.

"I—" I crossed my arms but couldn't argue with that either. "I am a bad liar," I conceded. "But I'm only lying because I don't want to drag you into this, so it's actually very noble of me—"

"Charlie." I received an elbow to the ribs from Sarah as James fixed me with a stare that I wasn't really equipped to handle right then.

"We're sneaking into St. Mungo's," Sarah said, because I couldn't string the words together.

It had a rather dramatic effect; Fred screeched something along the lines of "why" and James gaped like he hadn't expected such idiocy even from us, which honestly was a rookie mistake.

"Godric, be quiet!" Sarah hissed at both of them as she whacked Fred's arm.

I'd almost forgotten about the danger of being caught, what with the rubbish heap that was everything else that had happened since I got up that morning.

I could picture Fred rubbing his arm and glowering, but my night vision still left something to be desired. "But why?" he asked.

I sighed. "I have… a theory."

"About your brother," James said, and I tried to be annoyed by his forwardness, but I hadn't exactly been subtle about anything up to this point.

"About my brother," I nodded.

There was a beat of quiet before James spoke up. "How do you plan on getting there?" He asked, and of all the things I'd thought were coming next, that wasn't it.

I considered our plan and tried not to wince. "By broom," I said with all the confidence I could muster.

Fred made a choking sound. "By broom?"

I crossed my arms. "Unless you've got a bloody better idea—"

"I have at least six better ideas, Simmons," Fred cut in.

I scoffed. "I'd love to hear them."

Fred considered. "See, some of them involve you letting people besides Jordan help you, so they'd never work, but—"

"Oi," I huffed, "I never said Sarah—"

"It's always implied." Fred said dismissively. "What I'm suggesting is if you maybe consider letting people help you in your personal vendetta, making it a…" Fred waved vaguely— "group vendetta, per say, then you'd have more options."

I scoffed again. "Love to hear them," I said, but I was starting to worry that he might actually have a point.

"Floo there," Fred said.

I blinked. "That's… not as horrific an idea as I hoped," I conceded. "But there's nowhere to floo from in Hogwarts, so we're back at square zero."

"That—" I squinted in the dark as Fred pointed a finger to silence me, and I found that I didn't have the will to object— "is where you're wrong." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Ever noticed the fireplace in McGonagall's office?"

Now, I'm not a particularly astute person, but I was starting to think this wasn't headed in a good direction.

"I… have not?" I said, not wanting to think about the implications of this.

"What about it?" Sarah asked cautiously.

"I don't think I can help you if you've not put it together yet," Fred declared, and I scoffed.

"Well we haven't got much to go on, have we?" I counted on my fingers. "Impossible plans of flooing to Mungo's, a bloody lot of unwarranted criticism, McGonagall's office-" Wait.

I gasped. "McGonagall's office?!"

"Shhh!" Fred, James, and Sarah all waved their arms in varying degrees of desperation to silence me.

I scowled but quieted my howl to a hiss."McGonagall's off—"

"Yes!" James cut in hurriedly, "McGonagall's office." He shook his head. "You've got a bloody pair of lungs, Simmons."

Mostly because I couldn't for the life of me think of anything, I didn't deign to respond to the second part.

I looked pleadingly at Fred. "How in hell are we supposed to break into McGonagall's office?"

Fred shrugged. "Haven't the foggiest- oi, woman!" He rubbed the arm Sarah had whacked. "Well I can't do everything, can I?"

. . .

Breaking into McGonagall's office was easier than I'd expected.

It was the second time I blackmailed someone that night, actually, but it was about the same thing, so I'm not sure it counts.

(Turns out the other portrait involved in the aforementioned illicit affair is within hearing distance of the office's entrance, so he was able to tell us the password after a little unfriendly persuasion.)

Somewhere along the way, we'd reached an unspoken agreement that James and Fred would be joining us on our misadventure which went against many of my most basic principles but also had an oddly reassuring effect.

Anyway, I found myself standing awkwardly in the pitch dark of the Headmistress's office alongside Sarah, Fred, and James and suddenly remembering how much I bloody hate flooing.

Sarah muttered a "lumos" and turned to face me as the rest of us followed suit. "Still sure about this, love?"

"Sure," I lied. "What's the worst that can happen?"

The wand light reflected garishly off Sarah's face as she raised an eyebrow then sighed. "Let's just be sure we get back before McGonagall gets up, yeah?"

I nodded took a small step toward the ornate fireplace.

"Well," Fred said, striding past me and grabbing the bag of floo powder from the mantel, "ladies first?"

I scowled at the powder in his outstretched hand. "Absolutely bloody not."

Sarah rolled her eyes and brushed past me to grab a handful. "Charlie's scared of flooing," she told Fred and James conspiratorially.

"I am not!" I cried. Or lied. It was a lie.

"It's all right, love," Sarah said wickedly as she scattered the powder over the fire. "None of us will hold it against you," she assured me before she stepped in and said, "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries" and effectively disappeared.

I glared at the flames.

"Right, then." Fred rubbed his hands together before grabbing a handful of floo powder and haphazardly throwing it in the fire. He saluted lightly and announced his destination, and I was, once again, left to face my fears alongside James Potter.

James turned his wand light on me and motioned toward the fire. "You next, Simmons?"

"Ha." I crossed my arms. "No."

James sighed a long suffering sigh that I probably honestly deserved. "I'm not going to leave you here alone if you're afraid to floo," he said, and I blinked.

It was very annoyingly decent of him.

I turned to watch the flames turn back from green to red in the fireplace. "Well, I'm not." I swallowed. "Afraid to floo."

Which, again, was a lie. On the other hand, though, I was equally afraid to be having this conversation.

"I've seen you face your darkest fear, Simmons," James reminded me, which absolutely did not help. "Can't be worse than a boggart, yeah?" He asked, which helped a little.

"At least this time I'm not in pyjamas," I mumbled and then turned back to watch the fire. I put my arms around myself.

James laughed softly. "You can do this, Simmons," he said, and I wished I had the same confidence. "I've seen you do much worse."

I took a breath and steeled myself, then glanced back at the fire and sighed. "I don't want to, though," I said in a tone much closer to a whine than I'd intended.

James seemed to realize that gentle encouragement was not going to get him anywhere. "Right, then," he sighed. "Truth or dare?"

"What?!"

James raised an eyebrow. "Truth or dare, Simmons?" He repeated, and I felt my cheeks burning. "Or have you forgotten how to play since Christmas?"

"I'm going to kill you," I said with as much composure as I could manage.

James raised an eyebrow. "Dare, then." He didn't pause. "I dare you to floo to Mungo's."

I was going to kill him.

"No- that's not- bloody-" I groaned and put my face in my hands. When I looked up James was smirking, and I put my hands on my hips. "Maybe," I said darkly, jabbing a finger in his direction, "you're being insufferable about what happened on Christmas because you liked it."

James laughed shamelessly. "You think so?"

Godric, I had no idea what I was doing.

I crossed my arms. "I think I could be right," I said petulantly. My heart was beating like the base in a Weird Sisters song.

James snorted. "Simmons, when are you ever right?"

I didn't really have an answer for that.

Instead, I trudged to the mantle and grabbed a handful of floo powder. "I'll bloody see you at Mungo's," I scowled and roughly scattered the powder and stumbled into the fireplace before I could think better of it or James could respond.

I inhaled a mouthful of smoke as I choked out Mungo's floo address.

What happened next felt less like falling than it felt like being sucked into a giant sinkhole, except everything was on fire and if I screamed I'd get a mouthful of soot and if I flailed I'd be spit out Godric knew where. I opened my eyes just before I saw the entrance to Mungo's and made the mistake of inhaling seconds before I stumbled into the fireplace.

I ended up sprawled on the pristine floor of Mungo's reception room, coughing on smoke and trying in vain to shake the soot out of my hair.

The receptionist didn't look pleased.

I groaned and hauled myself to my knees. "Erm, hello there." I waved nervously at the woman behind her desk as Fred and Sarah grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet.

Behind us, James emerged from the fire infuriatingly unscathed. I futilely dusted myself off and approached the desk.

"Er, could you—" I coughed violently— "could you tell us where to find Jack Simmons' room?"

The woman tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the counter and raised an eyebrow. "Are you family?"

I nodded.

She raised her other eyebrow and surveyed the group. "All of you?"

Fred smiled charmingly. "We're cousins," he said as he put his arms around Sarah and James, but the woman didn't seem moronic enough to believe him.

"... All of you?"

"... Yes," Fred decided.

The woman sighed heavily and opened a file cabinet beside her chair. "He's in the permanent residence ward," she said without looking up at us. "He was moved from 213 after the break-in."

"I know," I frowned and leaned forward on the counter to try to catch a glimpse of the file. My hands left soot deposits on the countertop. I sighed. "Can you give us the new room number?"

The cabinet closed suddenly with a clang. "Can you give me proof that you're all family?" The woman countered.

"Right, then." I pushed off the counter and trudged toward the nearest hallway. The receptionist watched us go with a bored sigh and I found I was both grateful for and a little offended by her lack of interest.

I didn't need to think about where I was going on the way to the permanent residence ward, and the others followed me without questioning it. We peeked our heads into the doors we passed once we reached the ward, but mainly we saw empty beds or a few disgruntled nurses and unresponsive patients.

I didn't need to pay attention to the room numbers to know which one Jack had spent the last two years in.

I'd actually been planning on walking past it, because we knew he'd been moved, but that plan fell apart when I saw the crime scene markers around the door.

"The Ministry launched an investigation?" Sarah asked no one in particular as we stood around the doorway.

I squinted at the door. "Seems like it."

Sarah watched me out of her peripheral vision. "You're plotting," she said, then, "don't."

I bit my lip and stared at the door for a beat. "I'm going in there," I decided.

Next to me, Sarah sighed. "Sounds about right."

I knelt by the door handle and bit my lip. "Alohomora."

Fred scoffed. "Simmons, you can't just alohomora your way into a crime scene." I gave the door a shove, and it swung open. "Wicked," he muttered as I ducked under the boards in the doorway.

It was unnerving to see the room in the state it was in.

The curtains between beds had been ripped off their rings, patients' personal effects were scattered around the room, and the beds were knocked out of place against the wall. There was a crack in the plexiglass window at the far side of the room. All of the bed sheets had been stripped off the beds and flung into a corner, and I couldn't tell if the goal of the break-in had been to find something or just to cause as much chaos as possible.

Probably both.

"This was a raid," Sarah said quietly as everyone ducked into the room.

I swallowed and tried not to stare at the bed that used to be Jack's. "I wonder what they were looking for."

No one made a move to walk further into the room.

"I wonder if they found it," James said.

. . .

We didn't stay in the room long enough to find any answers, but I don't think there was much to find in the mess, anyway, unless you knew what you were looking for.

So it was back to opening doors at random.

"Er, sorry!" I yelled into the room of an old woman who looked distinctly unhappy to have been woken up at whatever obscene hour it was. I closed the door hurriedly and turned back to the group. "Not this one," I called over to Fred and James, who were opening doors on the other side of the hall.

I didn't get a response, but I heard someone throw a tickling hex from inside one of the rooms before James slammed the door closed, so I figured they had problems of their own.

We'd fallen into a rhythm of throwing doors open, scanning the faces in the beds, and then making hasty retreats.

Honestly, I was a little thrown off when we actually found the right door.

It was the second to last one on our side of the hallway. When I opened it, I saw a small window on the far side of the room, two beds, and two motionless figures.

I jerked to a halt, and Sarah swore quietly behind me as she bumped into me.

I whirled to face the group behind me. "Shut up," I said too quickly.

Sarah seemed more confused than annoyed. "Oi, what-" She cut off as she followed my gaze to the two figures in front of us. "Oh."

One of them was Jack. He was as still as ever even as the figure in the chair beside his bed jumped to his feet and whirled to face us.

The other was Taurus Rosier.

To his credit, he looked almost as startled to see us as I was to see him. His eyes were wide as he took in the group. "Charlotte? What are you-"

I crossed my arms and tried to pretend my heart wasn't beating as fast as a pygmy puff's. "It's still just Charlie," I said, "and I'm family, but I can't say the same for you."

I saw his eyes drift behind me to the rest of the group.

"We're cousins," Fred put in helpfully.

Taurus blinked. I realized the rest of the group probably didn't know who we were talking to. "I was investigating the break-in," he said and then hesitated a beat. "It didn't feel right to leave without stopping by."

I hated that it sounded genuine.

"Sorry," I said lightly, trying not to think too hard about using the window as an escape route, "I'm being rude." I stepped forward and motioned to the group behind me. "That's Fred, and that's James. You've met Sarah." I turned back to glance at them. "This is Taurus Rosier."

I don't think anyone ever filled Fred in on the significance, but I saw James try to force down his reaction; furrowed brows and wide eyes turned into a pleasant smile and a tame wave, and I could have cried in relief.

Taurus laughed softly. "James Potter and Fred Weasley." He shook his head and smiled softly. "You and your brother are different breeds."

I laughed and tried not to look as conflicted as I felt.

There was a chance I was wrong about him. My only evidence was circumstantial, and he honestly probably wasn't lying about his motives for visiting Jack; they'd been friends. They'd been roommates, actually, at Hogwarts, and as far as I knew they'd still gotten on well once they graduated.

I was realizing I wanted to be wrong.

Because even if I was right, if it wasn't a coincidence that he was on both missions, I didn't really even know what that meant.

So I did my best to smile and shrugged. "We can't all be Slytherins."

Fred made a choking sound behind me. "Your brother was in Slytherin?" he demanded dramatically, and, bless his allergy to subtext, it helped dispel some of the tension in the room.

"Yes, but I still like to visit him on occasion," I said.

"And he was the worst Slytherin I ever met," Taurus laughed softly. "The bravest, too," he added, which I would have been grateful for, except that's the type of hyperbolic praise people give at funerals. Taurus had a nostalgic smile tugging at his mouth. "If memory serves, he was an awful hat stall…"

I blinked.

"I have to go!" I'd grabbed Sarah's arm and turned toward the door before I realized what a horrible way that was to end the conversation. "I mean, erm, it was… nice to see you?" I coughed and turned back toward the door and called a quick, "thanks for the conversation!" on the way out.

Fred, James, and Sarah followed me as far as the hallway before demanding an explanation. I was touched they made it that far.

"I have to find something in Jack's old room," I said, turning to continue on.

Sarah huffed as she hurried to catch up. "What?"

I didn't stop to look back at her. "A memory."

"Oi," Fred called, also hurrying to catch up. "We've got to floo back before McGonagall gets up."

I could see a sliver of sunlight peeking in through the windows in the hallway, but that was a problem for later. "You lot can head back without me- I'll be quick."

"Simmons, we're not bloody leaving, just-" James put a light hand on my shoulder, and I whirled around- "tell us what's going on."

I swallowed. "Some Aurors carry vials," I said, "for memories." I looked down the hall at the doorway to room 213. "There should be three vials with Jack's belongings, and if I'm right, there's a memory in one."

Sarah groaned. "Charlie, we don't have time-"

I started forward again. "Just go without me!"

"Simmons, you can't-"

Sarah groaned more theatrically. "What if you're not right-"

I trudged to the door. "I'm right!" I called back and then threw open the door.

James followed me into the room exasperatedly. "You've been right about ONE thing tonight!"

"One—" I froze. "What thing?"

To my knowledge, I'd not been right about anything for a good while.

James hadn't responded. "What thing?" I demanded again.

James looked less bothered than he did exasperated. "Simmons, is this really how you want to spend your time right now?"

I huffed and knelt to dig through the pile of clothes in the corner. "I'm not sure why you're here if you're not going to help." I balled up a pair of trousers and threw them in his direction.

"Oh, good," Fred said from the doorway. "More rifling through the crime scene."

I spotted a black robe in the corner and crawled a few feet to grab it. I grappled with the fabric for a few seconds as I tried to puzzle out the top from the bottom. "This is an Auror robe," I said triumphantly and dug around for the pockets.

Sarah waved her hands urgently. "Oi, well hurry, then."

There was a padded leather pouch in the left pocket. I remembered Jack showing it to me when he first got the robes. I fumbled with the button.

Fred craned his neck to see. "Well?"

"Half a second," I snapped. The first vial I grabbed was empty, and I let it roll away somewhere across the floor as I grabbed the second one. It was also empty.

"Charlie," Sarah whined.

"I'm almost done," I growled, dropping the second vial and shoving my hand into the pouch to grab the third.

I blinked. "It's not in here."

Fred took a curious step forward. "The memory?"

I shook my head. "The third vial," I said. "It's not here."

Sarah had a warning expression as she approached. "We need to go," she said, grabbing my elbow and hauling me to my feet. "It's probably lost, love," she said softly.

She was right; we had to go. Sunlight was filtering into the room, and we had to floo back ten minutes ago to stand a chance of getting away with this, but it was still worth a try.

I bit my lip and took one last look at the room as Sarah dragged me to the door, but I didn't think it had any more clues to offer.

"Unless someone stole it," James cut into my line of thought.

I sort of wished he hadn't said it out loud, because I was afraid he was right.

The door clicked shut behind us. Sarah shook her head and released my elbow as we hurried down the hall. "Why would someone steal a memory, though?"

"To keep it hidden," James answered before I could.

We rounded the corner, and I waved absently at the receptionist as we passed. "So your brother saw something," Fred surmised.

"And I'd like to find out what," I finished.

A/N: So like I said, you have my profuse apologies and resolute promises that this story will absolutely be finished but probably not on a schedule.

This is a really roughly drafted chapter, but it felt awful to put off posting it any longer, so sorry if I'm sacrificing quality for content. This one's also a bit more plot heavy than I really intended, but I promise the next one is really a chaotic, non-plot-relevant mess of Gryffindor shenanigans, so there's at least that to look forward to.

Anyway, I love to hear from you, no matter what feedback you have (even if it's just yelling at me for being the Worst at updating), and thank you so much for reading! :)