Gemma carried the conversation she had had with Dumbledore like a ball and chain.
And every time she thought about it–she wanted to cry.
But she couldn't.
She couldn't do anything about it.
So when Harry asked her for help to persuade Slughorn to get answers–a memory in this case–for Dumbledore, Gemma was struggling to keep it together.
So much so that the stress was causing her body to just shut itself down. She hadn't slept for more than a few hours over the last couple of days–not wanting to see what she saw again in fear that she would crack and tell her brother and best friends. And it was all finally catching up with her.
If her friends had noticed–of which only Luna seemed to really be able to tell even though she didn't outright say it–they didn't make an effort to ask her anything. Fred had tried to get answers out of her on their date, but she just simply told him to trust her and that what she wasn't telling him was important and monumental.
He seemed to take her word even though he expressed his worry for her multiple times–noting the dark circles under her eyes and the haggardness of her face. Gemma just assured him she was okay and that she was looking forward to the summer holidays.
Hermione was next to her on the couch that Sunday evening–Gemma's head resting on a pillow in Hermione's lap while she stared at the fireplace.
Harry was poring over the Half-Blood Prince's textbook again–hoping to find anything to help him and Gemma get something out of Slughorn.
Finally, Hermione said firmly, "You won't find anything in there."
"Don't start, Hermione," Harry snapped at her. "If it hadn't been for the Prince, Ron wouldn't be sitting here now."
"He would if you'd just listened to Snape in our first year," Hermione retorted dismissively.
Gemma watched as Harry found something and folded the corner of the page before continuing on his search. She was surprised that he was so worried about this when his Apparition test was coming up, but with the information he had learned from his lesson, Gemma knew he was on a warpath again.
Ron–though–was worried as hell, still not having managed to apparate once. And in his attempt to stop thinking about it, he was now struggling through an essay assigned by Snape that he would probably give him low marks for no matter what because Snape was the worst.
Harry was probably going to get even lower marks for disagreeing with him in the last class session about Dementors–but like it was said before, Harry did not give a care about anything except getting Slughorn to crack.
"I'm telling you, the stupid Prince isn't going to be able to help you with this, Harry!" Hermione said a little louder than before. "There's only one way to force someone to do what you want, and that's the Imperius Curse, which is illegal—"
"Yeah, I know that, thanks," Harry cut her off–not looking up from the book. "That's why I'm looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won't do it, but there might be something else, a potion or a spell..."
"You're going about it the wrong way," Hermione interrupted him. "Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people can't. It's not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that—"
"How do you spell 'belligerent'?" Ron suddenly asked, his eyes slightly glazed. "It can't be B-U-M—"
"No, it isn't," Hermione gave Ron a look before holding her hand out for his essay. As she looked over it, she asked, "And 'augury' doesn't begin O–R–G either. What kind of quill are you using?"
"It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Checking ones, but I think the charm must be wearing off."
"Yes, it must," Hermione pointed at the title of his essay, "because we were asked how we'd deal with Dementors, not 'Dugbogs', and I don't remember you changing your name to 'Roonil Wazlib' either."
"Ah no!" Ron exclaimed in horror. "Don't say I'll have to write the whole thing out again!"
"It's okay, we can fix it," Hermione told him with a comforting look as she pulled the essay back to her again and grabbed her wand.
"I love you, Hermione," Ron sank into his chair warily–rubbing his eyes.
Gemma and Hermione looked at one another–and the former hid a smile behind her hands as Hermione blushed a little and said, "Don't let Lavender hear you saying that."
"I won't," Ron said into his hands. Then he dropped them and said, "Or maybe I will, then she'll ditch me."
"Why don't you ditch her if you want to finish it?" Harry asked.
"You haven't ever chucked anyone, have you?" Ron turned to him. "You and Cho just—"
"Crumbled at the seams," Gemma commented. "Disintegrated. Poofed out of existence."
Harry snorted–rolling his eyes, "Yes, Gemma, thank you. But yeah, we sort of fell apart, yeah..."
"Wish that would happen with me and Lavender," Ron said gloomily as he watched Hermione silently tap each of his misspelt words with the end of her wand. Gemma assumed they corrected themselves as Ron continued to say, "But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It's like going out with the giant squid."
"There," Hermione exclaimed about twenty minutes later.
"Thanks a million," Ron sighed. "Can I borrow your quill for the conclusion?"
Gemma was half-asleep as Hermione was absentmindedly fiddling with her hair while she read a textbook.
She was about to drift off when a loud CRACK sent her sitting straight up–getting a book to the nose as Hermione shrieked.
"Kreacher!" Harry cried as Gemma clutched her nose.
"Master said he wanted regular reports on what the Malfoy boy is doing, so Kreacher has come to give—" The house-elf was bowing deeply as he replied.
CRACK!
Dobby appeared beside Kreacher and squeaked, "Dobby has been helping too, Harry Potter! And Kreacher ought to tell Dobby when he is coming to see Harry Potter so they can make their reports together!"
"What is this?" Hermione questioned–her eyes wide with shock. "What's going on, Harry?"
Harry looked at Gemma, and she waved a lazy hand at him–motioning for him to explain.
"Well. . . they've been following Malfoy for me," Harry finally explained.
"Night and day," Kreacher admitted.
"Dobby has not slept for a week, Harry Potter!" Dobby cried proudly–literally swaying in his spot.
Gemma pinched her lips–ignoring the throbbing in her nose.
She hadn't realised the elves would take Harry's orders so literally–and end up shirking taking care of themselves. It was unnerving and slightly appalling.
"You haven't slept, Dobby? But surely, Harry, you didn't tell him not to—" Hermione started to lay into the Potter boy.
"No, of course I didn't," Harry interrupted quickly. "Dobby, you can sleep, all right? But has either of you found out anything?"
"Master Malfoy moves with a nobility that befits his pure blood," Kreacher replied at once. "His features recall the fine bones of my mistress, and his manners are those of—"
"Draco Malfoy is a bad boy!" Dobby cut off the older house-elf angrily. "A bad boy who-who—"
Gemma realised that he was struggling not to injure himself–his old masters' commands trying to get the best of him.
She dropped to the floor and wrapped her arms around his trembling body until it went limp, and he hugged her back, panting, "Thank you, Gemma Hilton. Dobby still finds it difficult to speak ill of his old masters." She smiled comfortingly at him as he straightened his tea-cosy hat and said, "But Kreacher should know that Draco Malfoy is not a good master to a house-elf!"
"Yeah, we don't need to hear about you being in love with Malfoy," Harry sassed Kreacher. "Let's fast forward to where he's actually been going."
Kreacher bowed again–looking enraged as he said, "Master Malfoy eats in the Great Hall, he sleeps in a dormitory in the dungeons, he attends his classes in a variety of—"
"Dobby, you tell me," Harry shut him down, cutting across Kreacher. "Has he been going anywhere he shouldn't have?"
"Harry Potter, sir," Dobby coughed a little bit before looking up at Harry with his great orblike, "the Malfoy boy is breaking no rules that Dobby can discover, but he is still keen to avoid detection. He has been making regular visits to the seventh floor with a variety of other students, who keep watch for him while he enters—"
"The Room of Requirement!" Harry exclaimed–slapping himself on the forehead with his Advanced Potion-Making textbook. He turned to the other three teens, "That's where he's been sneaking off to! That's where he's doing...whatever he's doing! And I bet that's why he's been disappearing off the map–come to think of it, I've never seen the Room of Requirement on there!"
"Maybe the Marauders never knew the room was there," Ron added.
"Unless they did it on purpose," Gemma added. "Which would make sense."
"I also think it'll be part of the magic of the room," Hermione commented. "If you need it to be unplottable, it will be. Which would be why the Map couldn't handle it being charmed onto the parchment."
"Dobby, have you managed to get in to have a look at what Malfoy's doing?" Harry asked eagerly.
"No, Harry Potter, that is impossible," Dobby told him.
"No, it's not. Malfoy got into our headquarters there last year, so I'll be able to get in and spy on him, no problem."
"But I don't think you will, Harry," Hermione murmured slowly. "Malfoy already knew exactly how we were using the room, didn't he, because that stupid Marietta had blabbed. He needed the room to become the headquarters of the D.A., so it did. But you don't know what the room becomes when Malfoy goes in there, so you don't know what to ask it to transform into."
"There'll be a way around that. You've done brilliantly, Dobby."
"Kreacher's done well, too," Hermione tried to add kindly.
Kreacher lifted his eyes to the ceiling and croaked out, "The Mudblood is speaking to Kreacher, Kreacher will pretend he cannot hear—"
"Okay, you may leave, Kreacher," Gemma interrupted him. The house-elf bowed to her and left before she turned to Dobby, "Go get some rest. You did good."
"Thank you, Gemma Hilton, ma'am!" Dobby squeaked happily before disappearing.
"How good is this?" Harry cried enthusiastically once both of the house-elves were gone. "We know where Malfoy's going! We've got him cornered now!"
"Yeah, it's great," Ron muttered glumly.
Gemma stood up and saw the destroyed essay where he must have spilled his inkwell on when the elves arrived.
She pulled out her wand and wordlessly syphoned the ink off the parchment.
"But what's all this about him going up there with a 'variety of students'?" Hermione questioned–watching Gemma work her magic. "How many people are in on it? You wouldn't think he'd trust lots of them to know what he's doing..."
"Yeah, that is weird," Harry frowned. "I heard him telling Crabbe it wasn't Crabbe's business what he was doing...so what's he telling all these...all these..." Then his voice trailed off before he said, "God, I've been stupid. It's obvious, isn't it? There was a great vat of it down in the dungeon...he could've nicked some any time during that lesson..."
"Nicked what?" Ron asked–silently thanking Gemma for fixing his essay.
"Polyjuice Potion. He stole some of the Polyjuice Potion Slughorn showed us in our first Potions lesson...There aren't a whole variety of students standing guard for Malfoy...it's just Crabbe and Goyle as usual...yeah, it all fits!" Harry started to pace in front of the fireplace. "They're stupid enough to do what they're told even if he won't tell them what he's up to...but he doesn't want them to be seen lurking around outside the Room of Requirement, so he's got them taking Polyjuice to make them look like other people....those two girls I saw him with when he missed Quidditch-ha! Crabbe and Goyle!"
"Do you mean to say," Hermione said in a hushed voice, "that that little girl whose scales I repaired—?"
"Yeah, of course!" Harry nearly shouted, staring at her. "Of course! Malfoy must've been inside the room at the time, so she–what am I talking about?–he dropped the scales to tell Malfoy not to come out, because there was someone there! And there was that girl who dropped the toad spawn, too! We've been walking past him all the time and not realising it!"
"He's got Crabbe and Goyle transforming into girls?" Ron scoffed–amused. "Blimey...no wonder they don't look too happy these days. I'm surprised they don't tell him to stuff it..."
"Well, they wouldn't, would they, if he's shown them his Dark Mark?" Harry commented.
"Hmmm...the Dark Mark we don't know exists," Hermione said sceptically as she picked up Ron's essay and handed it to him rolled up.
"We'll see," Harry had turned his eyes to Gemma confidently.
She looked at him funny–confused as to why he was looking at her like that.
"Yes, we will," Hermione stood and stretched. "But, Harry, before you get all excited, I still don't think you'll be able to get into the Room of Requirement without knowing what's there first. And I don't think you should forget," she picked up her heavy bag, "that what you're supposed to be concentrating on is getting that memory from Slughorn. Goodnight."
"I am right—"
"Gem, I need to ask you something," Harry interrupted her.
"—not behind you," Gemma sighed tiredly. "Be up in a minute."
Hermione looked a little worried before she hurried up to their dorm.
Gemma heard the door shut as Harry asked Ron, "What d'you think?"
"Wish I could Disapparate like a house-elf," Ron stared at the empty spot the elves had vacated. "I'd have that Apparition Test in the bag."
Ron packed up his own stuff and marched up to his dorm–sensing that Harry wanted to talk to Gemma alone.
Gemma crossed her arms and tilted her head, "Do you need something?"
"First of all–is something the matter?" He asked–his green eyes reflecting the fire in front of them.
Gemma's heart stuttered, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, is something bothering you? You're really, really quiet. You got like this when..." His voice trailed off. "When Sirius and Cedric died..."
She swallowed thickly–fighting back the urge to spill her secret, but she just shrugged and said with a sorrowful smile, "Grief shows up at weird times, Har. Especially around the time where it first appeared to start with."
Harry nodded slowly before he said, "Let me know if I can do anything..."
"I will," She cleared her throat. "Was that all?"
"No!" Harry shuffled on his feet before he sheepishly said, "I wanted to apologise for accusing you of cheating on Fred with Malfoy."
"Only took you like four months to apologise."
"Yeah, sorry about that too."
Gemma watched him, "I forgive you...now what do you want?"
Harry's cheeks warmed significantly, "Why would you—"
"Harry."
"Do you think you could try to get something out of Malfoy? Or see if he has the Mark?"
Gemma rubbed her forehead, "You don't think I was already trying to do that? I already told you my plan."
"Well...could you try harder?"
The Lupin girl gave him a withering look and quietly said, "I am doing everything I can without being so bloody obvious like you were with Slughorn." She grabbed her stuff to return to her dorm room, but before she left, Gemma stopped and harshly said to Harry, "Maybe you should be the one taking notes instead of getting everyone else to do it for you."
∆∆∆
Gemma Lupin wanted to go home.
She was so sick of school and her teacher's assistant job.
She was so sick of Harry and his obsessiveness over Draco.
She was just generally sick of everything.
And to make things worse, Dumbledore had sent her a letter in request of her helping Harry get answers from Slughorn.
And the git–Harry–had not been trying to get answers from Slughorn; rather, he had been trying to break into the Room of Requirement.
She had discovered this when he arrived to Defence Against the Dark Arts late–making Gryffindor lose ten points–Gemma harshly asked him where he had been.
He told her and immediately regretted it, seeing the rage on her face.
She had very quickly left her friends and brother for the dungeons afterward to help Slughorn. She had spent more time in the dungeons of Hogwarts than she had in her entire life, trying to avoid her brother and his incessant begging of her to get answers from Malfoy.
Hermione had also been trying to get Harry to do what he had been tasked with. When Harry had told her, Slughorn had been avoiding him just as much as Gemma had–the Granger girl had asked Gemma if it was true.
Gemma had confirmed it as Slughorn had slipped a couple times in front of her in admitting he didn't particularly want to be around Harry after what happened.
Gemma didn't blame him, honestly.
When her private lessons with Draco showed up, he found her slouched against a desk–half-asleep.
"Why are you becoming more and more like a corpse every time I see you?" He asked rudely.
Gemma barely lifted her head and snapped, "Ask your stalker."
Draco didn't seem phased by her comment–but she saw his jaw tick, and she realised she might have accidentally just given in the incentive to watch his back even more.
But she played it off and pulled out his notes before standing in the same spot they had designated as her practice spot.
"Are you sure you're not too tired to work on this?" Draco questioned as he tucked the notes into his satchel.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
Gemma glowered at him, "Why do you care?"
"You look like you've been to hell and back, that's why. Potter obviously doesn't care about your well-being right now–so just be happy someone does."
"Didn't know you took on that role yourself."
"Someone has to do it."
She just gave him another stern look before she successfully apparated across the room–still feeling nauseous afterward, but she did it.
She did it a couple more times–the feeling distracting her from the stress and annoyance that was really starting to weigh on her.
She was about to travel away from Draco again when he grabbed her by the elbow and said, "Okay. You've mastered it. Time for a break."
She pulled her arm away and said, "I'm here to practise, so let me practise."
"Lupin, you look ready to collapse. Sit down."
She went to fight again, but her head was spinning, and she felt ready to pass out.
So, with the poutiness of a four-year-old, Gemma collapsed into a chair and laid her head against the cool wood of the desk.
Her head had stopped spinning after about six minutes before she lifted it and found Draco observing her.
"Creep."
"What has been going on between you and Potter?"
"That's none of your business."
"Well, it is obvious he knows about our meetings. You would think after all these years of wanting to throw each other off the towers, he would get better at his glare and poker face."
Gemma snorted incredulously, "Harry is not great at all things."
"No, that's you."
"Ha. Funny."
The two just regarded one another coolly before Draco said, "I really do care about your well-being, Gemma."
"You have a weird way of showing it."
He pinched his lips before saying, "You'll understand more soon."
She frowned deeply, "What is that supposed to mean? You keep giving me these vague warnings–have been for a while now. What are you talking about?"
"It means..." Draco stood, grabbing his bag. There was a glint in his eyes that Gemma knew was fear. "When you see the opening, run."
He left without another word, and Gemma just rubbed her eyes–pressing her tongue to the Mandrake leaf in her mouth before grabbing her own stuff and heading back to the common room.
∆∆∆
When she woke up, her heart racing–Gemma realised that the full moon was the next week, as was the month mark for her Mandrake leaf.
She climbed out of bed that Sunday–gathered her things, and hiked down to the dungeon to reread the instructions and prepare herself as much as she could.
Which only meant putting a piece of her hair in a phial, grabbing a couple more phials, a silver spoon, and a Death's-head Hawk Moth chrysalis (in another separate phial of course) and grabbing a couple of tools for the full moon. But it also meant finding a place to hide the potion once it was completed.
She found a small corner in the supply closet that was utterly unnoticeable, and she could cast a charm on the potion for good measure.
Gemma tried not to act too on edge as she worked silently–still trying to figure out why Dumbledore would give her access to all the ingredients to becoming an Animagus in the first place. Not to mention how illegal it was, as she noticed he mentioned nothing about getting registered with the Ministry. Which she figured was on purpose–but still.
Gemma packed her supply bag up carefully–slipping it into its hiding spot before heading back up to the main part of Hogwarts.
The light seared her corneas and she realised just how late in the day it was.
Lunch's aroma was already pouring into the corridors.
Her stomach rumbled as she made her way to the Great Hall–only to stop when she spotted a familiar mousy-haired witch.
"Tonks!" Gemma cried–running to her and throwing her arms around her tightly.
Tonks–despite being in the most down mood Gemma had ever seen her in–strangled her in a hug and then pulled away and asked, "Why were you in the dungeons?"
"Science experiment," Gemma shrugged–not wanting to spill her secret. "What are you doing here?"
Tonk's dreary attitude seemed to seep back in as she said, "I needed to talk to Dumbledore about something, but he's out apparently."
Gemma raised a brow, "Again?"
Tonks nodded, "Harry reacted the same way when I told him. I suppose he's gone a lot?"
"More than a headmaster should be, I suspect."
The witches pinched their lips in thought before Tonks sighed and said, "Well, I guess I'll come back later." Then she swallowed and said, "Gem, have you heard from anyone in...in the Order?"
Gemma knew who she was asking about and shook her head, "I haven't heard much from Dad. Why?"
Tonks's eyes filled with tears as she nodded solemnly, "No reason."
"Tonks, what is—"
"Nothing that a sixteen-year-old should be worried about," The witch cut her off with a sad smile. "Get going to lunch before Ron eats all the food. See ya on Friday."
Gemma watched her leave, and the sickening pit in her stomach squirmed.
With a sigh, Gemma went to find her friends–plopping in a seat next to Harry, who seemed to just have arrived.
She was pulling a grilled cheese toast onto her plate as Ron enthusiastically said, "I did it–well, kind of! I was supposed to be Apparating to outside Madam Puddifoots' Tea Shop and I overshot it a bit, ended up near Scrivenshafts, but at least I moved!"
He was talking about prepping for his Apparation test–which Harry couldn't take because of his birthday.
"Good one," Harry bobbed his head as Gemma offered the Weasley a high five. "How'd you do, Hermione?"
"Oh, she was perfect, obviously," Ron didn't let Hermione answer. "Perfect deliberation, divination, and desperation or whatever the hell it is–we all went for a quick drink in the Three Broomsticks after, and you should've heard Twycross going on about her–I'll be surprised if he doesn't pop the question soon—"
Gemma snorted into her pumpkin juice at that, making Ron beam at her.
"And what about you?" Hermione asked, ignoring Ron and Gemma. "Have you been up at the Room of Requirement all this time?"
Gemma turned her brown eyes to Harry, "What have you been doing?"
He ignored her, "Yep. And guess who I ran into up there? Tonks!"
"Tonks?" Ron and Hermione said in unison, looking surprised.
"Yeah, she said she'd come to visit Dumbledore."
"She told me that too," Gemma told him. "I ran into her on her way out."
"If you ask me," Ron started after both Harry and Gemma had finished describing their conversations with Tonks (which were quite similar), "she's cracking up a bit. Losing her nerve after what happened at the Ministry."
"No, she's—" Gemma went to defend Tonks when Hermione interrupted, "It's a bit odd. She's supposed to be guarding the school, why she suddenly abandoning her post to come and see Dumbledore when he's not even here?"
"I had a thought," Harry murmured tentatively. "You don't think she can have been...you know...in love with Sirius?"
Gemma's neck popped at how fast she turned to look at her brother, "Why the hell would you think that?!"
"I dunno," Harry shrugged–looking slightly startled at her reaction, "but she was nearly crying when I mentioned his name...and her Patronus is a big four-legged thing now...I wondered whether it hadn't become...you know...him."
"Harry, they're cousins."
"Oh."
"It's a thought, though," Hermione said slowly–giving Gemma a look that read, Take a breath. "But I still don't know why she'd be bursting into the castle to see Dumbledore if that's really why she was here."
"Goes back to what I said, doesn't it?" Ron jumped back in as he was shovelling mashed potato into his mouth. "She's gone a bit funny. Lost her nerve. Women," He looked at Harry, "they're easily upset."
"And yet," Hermione shot back, coming out of her reverie, "I doubt you'd find a woman who sulked for half an hour because Madam Rosmerta didn't laugh at their joke about the hag, the Healer, and the Mimbulus mimbletonia."
Ron just scowled at Hermione while Gemma–very calmly said, "Also, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't say such things about Tonks. It's unkind, and you know it. Must I remind you of all the times you were easily upset over practically nothing? And she is mourning–grief is weird. You have to be careful with it–or a monster could awaken, and you may or may not be able to silence it." Her friends stared before Gemma sucked in a sharp breath, she saying, "I'm going to sit at the Black Lake. You may join me if you wish, and if not–that's where I'll be."
She picked up her bag, another grilled cheese toast, and left.