The Grangers had invited Marigold to spend the final week of the summer break at their home in Crawley. It was an invitation that Marigold was eager to accept. She thought it gave the holiday a nice sense of balance, since she had spent the first week at the Grangers' house as well.

They had spent the previous day in the muggle world, shopping for casual clothes and other necessities - things they would not find in Diagon Alley. It was a relaxing time, made all the sweeter by the fact that absolutely no one recognized Marigold.

Today, however, had been another matter.

The crowds in the Alley had seemed normal, at first glance. The crowds were just as Marigold remembered them from the previous year, when she had come with the Longbottoms. Thankfully, there was no Gilderoy Lockhart to crowd the bookshop this year. The purebloods were walking about in their finest, as eager to be seen as to do their shopping. The occasional muggle family stood out, for they were the ones who had not taken the time to shrink their packages for easy carrying.

And always, the looks of wonder on the faces of the soon-to-be first years. This was no charm, no spell - it was just magic. For many, this day would be one they remember for the rest of their lives.

Even so, both Marigold and Hermione noticed a subtle tension in the air.

It started with the wary glance Tom the bartender gave every time the doors opened at the Leaky Cauldron. The worry on the man's face was plain, and the way his hand jerked toward his belt - and the wand carried there - did not escape Marigold's notice. The man was almost expecting an attack of some sort.

Nor was it just Tom who seemed worried. Parents seemed to keep their children a little closer at hand, and were quicker to silence any backtalk. Marigold knew that this wasn't simply shopping fatigue - the parents were concerned.

When they saw four guards standing outside Gringotts, Marigold could no longer keep silent.

"Spellforged?"

The voice of Harry Spellforged came to her mind after the briefest of delays.

"Yes, Marigold?" came the response.

"How many guards does the bank usually have on a day like today?" she asked.

There was only a moment's pause before he responded. "With the shopping crowd? Probably two. Why?"

"I can see four, and those are just the ones I see," she replied, remembering that the goblins frequently went into the alley under glamours, to keep an eye on the 'wand wavers', as Spellforged put it.

"That's… not good." Spellforged was rarely puzzled, but it was obvious that he had no idea what would cause the goblins to react in such a way.

"Any chance you could look into it? Everyone seems on edge." Marigold asked.

She heard his sigh over the link. "I would, but I'm in Ireland until tomorrow evening. Mum might have a guess, though. I'll ask her when she's done cooking."

Marigold smiled to herself at Spellforged's mention of his adoptive mother's cooking. It was not that she was jealous, of course, but of the five of them Spellforged was the only one with anything close to a mother in the picture. Moments like this, when he visited his mother's family in the south of Ireland, highlighted that difference between them.

Even Chaser occasionally asked questions about the formidable Anna Sullivan, the muggleborn witch who had (purely by chance) ended up fostering, and later adopting, the boy-who-lived. Of the five, Chaser was the only one to grow up in Potter Manor, with his birth father to raise him, and a half dozen house elves who knew all of 'Mistress Lily's' favorite meals.

A far cry from Surrey, that is, Marigold thought to herself.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione's mum didn't say anything until the afternoon following their trip to Diagon Alley. She had thought that the general tension in the air was shared by her daughter's friend, but the stress in the girl's eyes said otherwise.

While Hermione was organizing her books, as one does, Doctor Granger sat Marigold down for some tea.

"What's bothering you, dear?" she asked.

Marigold sipped her tea. "How could you tell?"

"Oh, don't think I haven't seen that look before, Miss Potter," Hermione's mum said, with a smile. "I know you're not waiting on test scores or anything like that, which is usually what would have Hermione walking around like a ball of nerves. No, I think it's something else."

Marigold said nothing, but the look on her face was obvious. Especially since Hermione's mum had seen that same look the previous month, when the pair had gone over a research project of Marigold's.

"You're worried about your patient, aren't you?" she asked.

Marigold's eyes grew wide at that. Then she laughed. "Hermione told me that you were good, but I didn't realize how good until now." She looked over at her hostess. "Are you sure you don't have any seers in your family tree?"

The older woman laughed in turn. "I doubt it, my dear. Most of my relatives couldn't guess their way out of a paper sack, but don't tell them I said that."

"Of course not," Marigold agreed, still grinning.

After a moment, Mrs Granger continued. "So, your patient? How did your meeting go?"

Marigold's eyes went to her tea, and for a moment it seemed that she wasn't going to answer. Then, she spoke with a quiet, uncertain voice.

"The goblins are consulting with a healer from Paris," she said. "They think that I've hit upon a novel approach to blood curses, and that I may have found the trigger for this particular one."

"I see," said Mrs Granger. "That certainly sounds promising."

"Oh, it is," Marigold replied, quickly. "If they know what triggers the magical part of the disease, they can either suppress it or remove it altogether."

Mrs Granger nodded. "Would magical healers know how to treat Leukemia?"

"Not really, no," said Marigold. "But there are enough squibs and muggleborns who became non-magical doctors out there. They'll be able to get a consult, so to speak."

Sitting back in her chair, Mrs Granger sipped her tea. "Good." Then she tilted her head, considering the teenager in front of her. "So what has you worried? Concerned that you might not have the right answer?"

Marigold waved her hand dismissively. "No, if we're wrong, then I'll just have to keep looking into it. I'm not worried about that. Even the answers that don't pan out still tell us something." She looked up and met her hostess' eyes. "You taught me that, Doctor Granger."

A smile. "So I did, so I did." She took another sip of tea, allowing the silence to stretch for a few moments. Marigold and Hermione were far more alike than either girl would admit, and this trick never failed to get Hermione talking.

"No," Marigold said after a while. "I just felt like something was wrong yesterday, when we were in the Alley." She looked up again, concern in her eyes. "Did you notice how stressed everyone seemed to be?"

Mrs Granger nodded. "I thought it might just be that time of year, getting children ready for school and so forth. But now that you mention it…" Her voice trailed off.

"Exactly," Marigold agreed. "You can't really put a finger on it, but you just know something's wrong."

"Yes," Mrs Granger said. "But what?"

oOoOoOoOo

The five did not learn what had happened until two days later, on the Sunday before their return to Hogwarts.

Spellforged had taken a later portkey than planned, and so did not arrive in London until early that morning. On entering the bank, he immediately went to see his father, as was his custom. The two caught up on trivialities, as father and son, before Spellforged asked about the increased security.

When he went to unpack his bag, he closed his door and sat down on his bed. As he had done so many times before, Spellforged opened himself up to the link.

Chaser had been flying drills at the Potter Manor quidditch pitch, and had to land quickly when he started laughing at the string of goblin profanity spewing from the mind of Spellforged.

Seeker was in his room at 12 Grimmauld Place, reading. He had to get up to close his door when he, too, began laughing.

Marigold kept her thoughts to herself, though she did make a mental note to remember the curses she hadn't heard yet. She was always one for expanding her vocabulary.

The fifth of their number did not speak, but everyone felt their Slytherin counterpart rolling her eyes. Rose Potter frequently kept her own counsel, but when she made herself known, her opinion was unmistakable.

When Spellforged calmed himself, it was Marigold who got him to explain what had upset him. In turn, they learned why his father had been upset as well, and why the Goblin Nation was on alert.

By the time Spellforged was done with his explanation, the others were cursing as well.

oOoOoOoOo

Chaser found his father meeting with his Aunt Amelia. Good, he thought. Both of the people he would ask were right there.

James Potter saw the worry on his son's face even before he noticed that Harry was still wearing his quidditch robes. He had not even paused to put his broom away.

"Harry?" he asked.

Chaser walked up to the adults, struggling to catch his breath. He knew it probably could have waited, but something told him that he had to know what had happened - if anything.

"Good afternoon, Dad, Aunt Amy," he greeted. "I wondered if you could tell me something."

Amelia's eyes narrowed at the question. "You know there are some things from work that we can't talk about at home, Mister Potter." She kept her tone light, with only the barest hint of professionalism creeping in, but that was all she needed - they had had that discussion before. usually when Susan took an interest in a case file that made its way to Bones Manor.

"No, I get that. But if I'm right, well…" Chaser's voice trailed off, before he squared his shoulders and looked at his godmother. "Madam Bones, how easy would it be to break someone out of Azkaban?"

Amelia Bones looked shocked. She turned her eyes to James Potter, who seemed equally shocked. Then they both started laughing.

oOoOoOoOo

"Padfoot?"

Sirius Black looked up from his book when his godson walked in. "In here, Harry. What's wrong?"

Seeker entered the study, and sat down across from his godfather. He looked as nervous as he felt, for he knew exactly how much Sirius enjoyed talking about his time in Azkaban - which was to say, not at all. But if what had happened in Spellforged's world happened here, then he wanted Lord Black to be aware of it.

Amelia Bones was Director of the DMLE in Chaser's world, just as she was here - and she did not know of any breakouts at Azkaban. Chaser believed that she was sincere, and not simply that she was keeping the information secret.

So, they might be safe. But it was worth checking anyway.

"Padfoot," Seeker began. "There are a lot of death eaters in Azkaban, aren't there?"

Sirius' expression sobered immediately. "You're right about that, Harry. Does that bother you?"

"No," Seeker admitted. "So long as they had a bloody trial, that is!" he added, with a grin.

Sirius chuckled. "I should say something about language, but you've got the right of it, I think."

Seeker had the good grace to look at least a little sheepish at the half-hearted admonishment. Then he met Sirius' eyes. "If someone escaped, they'd tell us, right?"

Sirius nodded. "I think they would, yes. Glamours and Polyjuice only go so far, eventually someone would see them and report it. They'd have to know to look, wouldn't you say?"

A nod. "Yeah, that makes sense. So I guess I was worried over nothing."

"Nonsense," replied Sirius. "The way I see it, it's my job to help if something is bothering you, wouldn't you say?"

Seeker said nothing. Instead, he walked over and gave his godfather a hug.

oOoOoOoOo

Rose's world seemed to be safe as well, according to her account. When the five reconvened that evening, shortly before supper, she confirmed that there was no breakout from Azkaban in her world.

"So it's just mine, then," muttered Spellforged.

"Not necessarily," replied Marigold. "Lots of people seemed to be on edge when I went shopping. It might be that they're worried about someone escaping here as well."

None of them needed to comment on the worry they heard in her voice.

"Your Hermione doesn't take the Prophet, does she?" asked Chaser.

"No, she doesn't." said Marigold.

"So we'll just have to see when you board the train," said Seeker.

"Maybe I'll write to Sirius," she mused.

"If it's the same escapee," Rose said. "The Longbottoms would definitely know. You might consider writing to Neville."

"No," came Marigold's voice, firm and resolute. "No, I'm not going to put him through that. If it is who we think it is, he'll be upset enough - and even more so if I raise a false alarm."

None of the others could argue with that.

oOoOoOoOo

Marigold was helping to clear the dishes from the dinner table when she heard Hermione yelp in surprise. Setting the plates down, she ran into the sitting room and found her friend standing and pointing at the tele.

"...The criminal is to be considered extremely dangerous, and should not be approached under any circumstance. If you see this woman, contact the authorities immediately. For those just joining us, the Scottish Prison Service has released information about this woman…"

The image on the screen changed to an angry woman with wild black hair. She wore a black prison outfit, and was screaming at the camera. There was something unusual about the picture, but Marigold couldn't quite place it.

"...identified as Bellatrix Lestrange, who escaped from a maximum security facility several days ago. She was convicted of several crimes in the early 1980's, including murder, assault, and terrorism. If you see this woman, contact the authorities immediately…"

Marigold and Hermione looked at each other, shock etched onto their features. Hermione knew exactly who the woman was - that she was a witch, and that she had tortured Neville's parents into catatonia. Marigold knew the same story, since she had been there with Hermione when Neville told them.

They knew exactly how hard he would take this news. The woman who essentially made him an orphan was free, somehow.

oOoOoOoOo

As was their custom, all five of the Potters took the last cabin on the left side of the train. Usually, that compartment was empty. This year, they had a guest - an older man, sound asleep even before the train got moving.

"R J Lupin" Seeker said, over the link. "It says so on his trunk."

Chaser's voice conveyed his excitement. "Uncle Moony!"

The five had suspected that their wayward Uncle Moony would be teaching this term, as he was in Spellforged's world. Rose, Seeker, and Marigold had not had the chance to meet him, however, as he had not been to visit Sirius when they were there.

"Wait a second," asked Rose. "Don't you already have a Professor for Defense?"

"Yep," replied Chaser. "Moony is going to be teaching History."

"What, they got rid of Professor Binns?" Marigold asked.

"Not yet, they didn't," Chaser said. "Professor Lupin will be lecturing for the OWL and NEWT students."

"Didn't you say he had a job already, though?" Rose was curious what might have dragged a werewolf with a comfortable job (and a flexible schedule) up to Scotland.

"I think he got bored, honestly," said Chaser.

Rose was not having it. "...and?"

"...And, I may have hinted that I'd show him the Chamber of Secrets." said a sheepish Chaser.

No one could really argue with such an incentive, and none of them tried.

"Do we tell him that we know who he is, though?" asked Marigold.

"Nah," replied Seeker. "Let's see what he does first. I think it'll be a fun prank when Sirius tells him that we were on to him the whole time."

All five versions of Professor Lupin, despite minor differences such as their clothing, seemed to be exhausted. In all five worlds, he was allowed to sleep.

oOoOoOoOo

Spellforged was on his feet before the train finished grinding to a halt. "Something's wrong," he said.

"Harry?" Eric Sullivan's voice was a bit shaky. His eyes were on the window, which had begun to frost over.

Luna, meanwhile, shivered as the temperature in the compartment seemed to drop. Their breath came out in clouds, and the lights flickered.

Before Spellforged could reply, the cabin door slid open, and a pair of ghostly figures floated onto the train. Each had ragged black cloaks, and their faces were shrouded in darkness.

"Get behind me," Spellforged said, as he pulled his wand and his knife. He knew no spells for dealing with…. whatever this was. On the other hand, there was very little that wouldn't be wounded by a Goblin-forged blade.

One of the creatures entered the compartment, as its partner floated further down the train. The creature looked briefly at the Professor, Eric, and Luna, before focusing its attention on Spellforged. The feeling of cold intensified, and Spellforged felt as if he were being pulled forward. In the back of his mind, he heard a woman screaming.

His wand dropped to the floor. Feebly, he tried to swing with his blade, but found himself unconscious before he knew if it had connected.

oOoOoOoOo

Susan Bones felt it when Harry shivered. She turned to look at him, as did Ron and Hermione.

"You alright, there?" Ron asked.

Chaser nodded absently. He could tell that something was wrong, and that Spellforged and Marigold were in danger, but he had no idea what it was.

All he could do is worry.

oOoOoOoOo

"Have some chocolate."

Marigold's eyes snapped open. She was on the floor, her wand next to her, and Professor Lupin was offering her candy.

"Chocolate?" she asked weakly. Neville and Ron helped her up and into her seat, as the Professor smiled kindly at her. He still held the chocolate bar toward her.

"Trust me," he said. "It helps."

As she gathered her wits about her, and tried to force herself to calm, the Professor went to the front of the train to speak with the driver.

Hermione knew the signs of a panic attack when she saw them. "Deep breaths, Marigold, in and out, that's it."

Marigold nodded, and slowly got herself under control. Then she looked at her friends. "What the fuck was that?"

oOoOoOoOo

"That was extremely dangerous, Mister Spellforged," the Professor said, even as he held out the chocolate.

"I wasn't going to sit back," Spellforged replied. He took the offered hand, and let the Professor help him up.

"No, I very much doubt that you would," Lupin remarked.

The two of them had spent time together over the past month, but not much of it. Spellforged doubted that he would be anywhere as close with this Remus Lupin as Chaser was with his 'Uncle Moony', but he was at least open to the possibility.

"Still, few warriors of the Nation could say that they managed to wound a dementor of Azkaban," the Professor mused. Off Harry's look of shock, Lupin nodded toward the dagger, still sitting on the floor.

Spellforged picked up the blade and examined it. One edge, near the tip, had some sort of black substance on it. The metal itself was still frosted over, though the frost faded as he held the blade's handle. As they watched, the black material crumbled to dust and disappeared.

"Bloody hell," Spellforged murmured.

Internally, he sighed. He did not want to talk about the screams he had heard, for he had a suspicion whose they were.

oOoOoOoOo

Once Ron and Neville left the compartment, to see what else had happened, Hermione turned to Marigold.

"They're gone," she said, without preamble. "Talk."

Marigold sighed, and folded her hands in front of her. To her horror, they began shaking again. Hermione leaned forward and took them in hers, attempting to soothe her friend's worry.

After a few minutes, Marigold spoke in barely a whisper.

"Did anyone else hear music, Hermione?" Marigold looked into Hermione's eyes, hoping that it hadn't just been her.

Hermione shook her head. "No, we didn't hear anything."

Marigold deflated. "It was the same song, Hermione. The same bloody song. As soon as I heard it, I lost myself." She reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. "It was so sad, like all happiness was gone."

"Who was singing?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Marigold replied, shaking her head. "A man, a young man. The voice is familiar, but so sad. So filled with grief." She looked up at Hermione again, fighting off the tears.

Hermione squeezed her friend's hands, but said nothing. Marigold stood up and crossed the compartment, sitting next to Hermione. Neither girl needed to say anything, such was the nature of their friendship. Marigold was hugging Hermione before either of them knew it. Hermione, for her part, could do little more than attempt to soothe her friend.

It was the whispered lyric that chilled her, when Marigold whispered it.

"It was so sad," she said, between sobs. "Check ignition, and may God's love be with you."

Hermione held her friend even tighter at that, even as her thoughts were sent racing. Professor Lupin said that the Dementors bring up one's saddest memories, and use them as a weapon.

So why was Marigold Potter's saddest memory a David Bowie song?

A/N: Welcome to Year Three. Obviously, we're not going to revisit Prisoner of Azkaban - and, yet, there is a reason that Bellatrix escaped, why she only did it twice, and why the method and reasons behind her escape matter. We do not have the hunt for Sirius Black to occupy us, but the third year is quite an important one for each of our leads. And with less drama in some of their lives, perhaps we'll get a chance to let them out to play, so to speak.

A couple of people can guess why Marigold's Dementor memory differs from Spellforged's. All I can say to that is that we'll get there. Her history differs from his in several very important ways, so of course they would differ here as well.

The song, of course, is David Bowie's 1972 classic "Space Oddity." My favorite version of that song didn't exist in 1993, but is worth a listen anyway. Canadian Astronaut Chris Hadfield recorded his version on the International Space Station, just before departing after his stint on board. It's a masterful rendition, and absolutely worth your time to find. Youtube currently has a version, if you are interested.

So, in summary - some of Year Three will be familiar, a lot of it won't be, and fun will be had by all. Stay tuned.

To the 1,053 readers who have favorited this story, and the 1,458 who follow it - thank you. Truly, thank you.

Stay safe out there. Feedback, as always, is welcome.