𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍; 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.

𝐯𝐢: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

Upon arriving at the Whomping Willow, Amara stopped briefly to catch her breath. The branches were alive, fervent—wrathfully immersing themselves in the business of thrashing at her, twisting and turning and reaching for her. Amara glanced down at the Map. 

"Lumos," she muttered, pointing her wand at it. 

Good. Sirius, Peter, and Remus were all still in the Shack. She pocketed the Map, neatly sidestepped a branch twice as thick as her torso, then raised her wand. 

"Wingardium Leviosa." 

She directed her wand at a twig on the ground and watched in satisfaction as it hovered—albeit a little awkwardly—toward the knot on the tree, and then prodded it. The tree grew very still. 

Amara took a deep breath.

And then she went—down, into the depths of the dreary, dark passageway, and into the horrible, screaming, bleeding world of the Shrieking Shack.

-

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-

❞𝐈❜𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫.❞ 

"Remus—"

"Come off it, Mar—five hundred people sleep in that tower!"

Amara crossed her arms. "Yeah, and they stayed asleep that whole night."

"That's not the bloody point!" Remus sat up from his bed, finally allowing himself to look at her, and then looked down at his torn covers. "You know Sammy Yoarens? The first year? He's a Muggleborn. His parents are teachers at a public school. Last summer he went on holiday to Greece with them."

James's muffled groan sounded from the bed over. "Remus, mate, how d'you know so much about a bloody first year?"

"He's a prefect," Amara said tersely. "What about him, Rem?"

"Imagine if he'd had a nightmare last night—or woke up thirsty. Or—or anything, really. Say he got up last night, for a glass of water. And say he sat in front of the fire in the common room, drinking his water."

Amara nodded slowly. "What the hell are you getting at?"

"I could've ripped him to shreds last night."

She uncrossed her arms and sighed, before slowly sliding down the closed door to the boys' dorm room. 

It was just as much a mess as it had been last night—save for the absence of blood, which Amara and Peter had 'Scourgify'd' the hell out of in the early morning, when they'd gotten back. The slashes on the four-poster beds seemed to gleam in the hints of morning sun. The Exploding Snap cards, strewn about the floor, some ripped, some folded, and some smoldering slightly, were in rather bad shape. 

Amara looked up at her friend—at her brother. "Remus," she said gently. "Remus, can you look at me?"

If James was still awake, he was doing a fantastic job at hiding it. In tender moments like these, Amara knew Remus would rather be the only one to hear such affirmations as she was about to share. 

"You are so beautiful," she said softly, watching his eyes dart away from hers the split second they met. "You are so valuable."

His ears reddened. "Even if those things were true, they certainly wouldn't be every full moon."

"Remus, you are my best friend in the whole world," Amara said. "I choose you as my family. I choose you over the woman who gave birth to me, Remus. Do you know why?"

"You have to," he whispered, staring at the ceiling. "Obligation."

"I did not choose my family, Remus," she continued. "You didn't either. You can bet Sirius didn't. And if I could, I'd choose someone different. Someone like Aunt Phemes."