Year Three: The Prisoner of Azkaban

Werewolves teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Prisoners escaping Azkaban. Dementors patrolling the grounds at Hogwarts. This is the year of heartache and having to answer iron-clad questions. The year when everything must come clean. When Marie Rogue must own up to her true House...

Chapter Twenty- The Flint Curse

She was at a loss for words, looking down at the small mirror from a year ago. Honestly, she had hoped that her influence would go overlooked, disappearing with time. Then again, this was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch she knew. Of course she wouldn't forget. Looking about, Marie waved the Gryffindor away from the main path, just off to the side to stand under one of the large trees of the ground.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked, leaning against the tree. Hermione took a breath.

"I want to talk about a lot of things, actually, but let's start with this," she said, holding the mirror out again. Marie accepted it, looking it over.

"It's my mirror," she identified simply. Hermione huffed at the lack of explanation.

"Don't play dumb with me, Marie Rogue," she chided. She took a step closer and pointed at the mirror. "You gave that to me last year just before the Basilisk petrified me and Penelope Clearwater. You came running into the library to find me, grabbed the exact book I needed and showed me the page, leaving your mirror with it, telling me to be careful. How did you know that it was coming after me next?"

Biting her lip, Marie waited a moment before answering. There was no point in lying to her. They had been time traveling and working together all year, she would be able to tell if she was lying, plus she hadn't really thought of a cover story. On top of that, she was just so tired of lying.

"Because Tom wanted Harry to know what loss felt like," she answered softly. Brown eyes rounded.

"Tom? As in, Tom Riddle?" she asked. Marie nodded.

"He wanted to hurt Harry and you were the prime target for him as a Muggleborn and his friend-"

"How do you know about Tom?" she interrupted, concerned. The Slytherin sighed.

"Yes, I know about Tom. He made the connection to me after Ginny wrote about me, I think, I don't really remember specifically," Marie said, waving her hand dismissively. "He spoke to me all year and he told me about the Basilisk since I was hearing it and I thought I was the heir-"

"You could hear it? You knew about the diary? About Ginny?" interrogated Hermione, bewildered. Marie pushed herself from the tree, standing up straight again to the look Hermione in the eye, exasperated.

"Yes, I know about Ginny. We had met before the school year started. I had noticed her strange behavior, I found her writing on the wall, I hid her from the crime scene. I told her that I would help her and she didn't seem to have any other friends to talk to, which is why she was the perfect target for Tom, and she told me about him. That she had written to him about me, it was how he made the connection. And I trusted him too, that's why I told him that I could hear the monster, how I was at every scene of the crime. I saw Colin Creevey when the attack happened-if his camera could develop the film, you'd see me there. I was with Justin Finch-Fletchley when he was Petrified, I tried to stop him from looking at the monster but I couldn't. Then Tom told me that he was targeting Harry next through you, and I had to do something!" Marie confessed, words coming out rushed, tumbling over the other to be heard.

Hermione could only stare, stunned by the information that was just thrown at her. A little breathless, Marie tried to compose herself, a little pink from her outburst.

"That's why I was there. That's why I gave you the mirror," she explained. "I was trying to help."

It took a moment, but the Gryffindor snapped out of her daze. "All right, well that explains last year. Now, what about this year?"

Marie gave a short laugh, shrugging her shoulders. "What about this year?"

"On the train, you were taken ill due to the dementors, correct?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then, during the Quidditch match with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, you were in the Hospital Wing, why?"

"Because of the dementors, I had fainted," she answered, unsure as to where she was going with the questioning thread.

"When's your birthday?" Marie gave a laugh, raising her eyebrow incredulously.

"My birthday? What does that have to do with anything?" she asked. Hermione sighed.

"Please, just answer me," she pleaded. "When is your birthday?"

She waited a beat before answering. "July thirty-first." The other girl nodded, taking a moment to think over her next words. Worry was beginning to gnaw at Marie, creeping through her system.She knows...she knows...The two words echoed in her head and the Gryffindor slowly looked back at her.

"I've looked you up, you know," she admitted. "I've cross-checked references, looked up reports, family histories. You're the only person to the Rogue name." Marie nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I know. You could have just asked me, it would've saved you trouble."

"Your guardians were Captain Tess Andrews and Professor Lupin, correct?" she asked, dismissing her offer.

"Yes."

"So why didn't you take one of their names? Do you even know your real surname?" Color continued to slowly leave her face as the other girl stepped closer to the truth.

"Yes, I do," she admitted, "but I prefer Rogue, to be honest."

"You do? What is it then?" she pressed. Marie folded her arms over her chest, defenses rising.

"I'm afraid that's not your concern," she informed her politely. "So you did all of this investigating on me, why? Did I do something wrong?" she asked, turning the questioning table on the Gryffindor instead. "What brought this up?"

Brown eyes shone with empathy and the fear continued to build within Marie. She knows...

"You and Harry," she stated simply. Marie tried to force a nonchalant shrug, coming off a bit more of a jerking motion rather than smooth.

"What about Harry?" she asked, trying to sound neutral.

"You care about him," she elaborated. "It's obvious. The way you talk to him, and you look out for him. It was just a theory of mine, but last night confirmed it."

Mouth going dry, she managed to ask, "What...what theory, exactly?"

"It's impossible to ignore how similar you look when you're together, you know," Hermione told her softly. Marie went rigid at her words, the last of her color leaving her face.

"I could see it clearly last night in the Shack, when you pulled him away from Pettigrew. It was the longest you two have stood side by side before. Though I'm sure you take precautions to avoid such moments," she explained. "Every time Ron and Harry visited me in the library, you always made an excuse to leave. Harry told us that you offered your broom for him to use after his Nimbus was destroyed. And just now, what you told me about last year, you clearly go through great lengths to keep Harry safe, even helping me when we hadn't properly spoken before. You put his safety before your own."

"All right, so I'm fond of him," Marie tried to deflect. "It seems like a good thing for his own benefit and yours."

Hermione gave a sad sort of smile.

"Marie...you and Harry...you have the same eyes."

She knows.

"Sirius seemed to know your connection, since he assumed you would both be together. And he looked upset when you told your story, directing all questions to Professor Lupin. Just who are you, Marie Rogue?"

Her chest felt tight as Hermione hit all of her marks dead on. Example after example, incriminating evidence that she had been too involved, displayed her care too clearly. She already had her answer.

"You know very well who I am," she told the nosy girl. She couldn't bring herself to say the words, to hear her proper title. She stepped closer to the Gryffindor, equal in height. "And you must swear to me, Hermione Granger, that you will not tell a soul what you know about me."

Her face fell, crestfallen. "What? But, Marie, Harry deserves to know-"

"I know he does," she interrupted, voice cracking. "Of all people, I know he does, but he can't. All of these precautions were put into place for our safety, to protect us from what exactly, I don't know. With all of the secrets, cover ups, and stories, the least I can do is look out for him and maybe even be a friend. He can't know me as anything but that, for now. I'm Marie Rogue, no one else. Do you understand me?"

She gave a sniff, eyes daring to water but she nodded all the same. "It just isn't fair...!"

Marie gave a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, well, fair and I haven't exactly been on good terms."

Two figures were jogging across the grounds toward the girls and it took a moment for them to come into focus. Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole, the two Beaters from Slytherin's House team. Confused, the girls exchanged a glance before turning to face to approaching upperclassmen. Bole gave a wave which Marie returned, albeit thoroughly confused.

"Hey, Rogue," greeted Bole once they were close enough.

"Hi," she returned. "What's going on?" They hesitated, noticing Hermione with her. The Gryffindor understood and said good bye to the Slytherin girl, leaving the three alone. As soon as she was out of earshot, Derrick started talking.

"It's Flint, he's in a bloody right state." She flinched, startled by the abrupt news.

"What?" she asked, looking between the two. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"No idea. He won't tell us," explained Bole. "Did you see him at breakfast?"

She nodded. "He flipped the bench and stormed out of the hall. Why?"

"Don't know. One second we're eating and reading our post then the next, half of us are on the floor and he's gone," said Derrick. "Kind of hard to ignore."

"All right, but why are you telling me all this?" she asked. "Sorry, it just seems a bit odd."

Derrick had the decency to look guilty while Bole kept a fairly neutral expression, arms folded over his chest. "Well, Snape's looking for him..."

She nodded in understanding. "Ok, and...?"

"And that means someone needs to actually go and get Flint," finished Bole. Marie picked up on their unspoken suggestion, eyes widening.

"Wait-you want me to bring him to Professor Snape?" she squeaked. Derrick nodded, sheepish. "What? But if he's so mad, you're both big enough to take care of yourselves. Why me?"

Derrick was about to speak but Bole cut him off. "To be put bluntly, we could bring him to Snape, but if you were to go collect him, there's a much higher chance that he would just come peacefully."

Green eyes displayed her confusion clearly.

"He's nicer to you," explained Derrick. "Less likely to snap."

A few beats of quiet before she nodded, consenting to their plan. She was nervous about approaching an angry Marcus Flint, for good reason. The last time she encountered that part of him it had been after the Quidditch tryouts. The shouting, the complete and vast physical advantage he had over her. If he was to get violent, her only hope would be how quickly she could cast a spell. Bole seemed to sense her worry.

"Don't worry," he reassured. "We'll be right outside, so if it gets out of hand, give us a shout and we'll just drag him to Snape."

"A-all right," she said, heart fluttering. "Do you know where he is?"

Derrick gave a short laugh. "Where Flint usually goes to let off steam. The Quidditch locker room is my best bet."

And on that note, the three set off to collect the hot headed captain.

Unfortunately, the journey didn't take as long as Marie would have liked as the locker rooms were apart of the Quidditch Pitch. The Beaters gave an encouraging nod and she carefully stepped inside. Alone. Once the door had closed behind her, she could hear the echoes of things being tossed about. Almost holding her breath, she neared the end of the short hall and peered around the corner. She gasped outright at the sight.

"Marcus!"

The locker room was torn apart. The two benches that the team would sit on while the captain explained the plays, were destroyed, nothing more than splintered pieces. The black board had two solids holes punched through, shattered with broken pieces scattered across the floor. Marcus Flint stood in the center of everything. His robe was tossed aside but his uniform was trashed, the seams split and torn all up the arms and shoulders, a large almost tear across his chest. His fists were clenched tightly and colored red, blood dripping onto the floor. Dark eyes flashed dangerously when he heard her.

"WHAT?" he roared. He held his arms opened wide, as if inviting a fight. "COME TO MOCK THE TROLL?"

Marie could only gape at the sight before her. "Marcus, what on earth is going on?" she asked, finding her voice once more. She took a few steps forward and she stilled when he held his hand up.

"DON'T!" He stopped for a moment, chest heaving. "Don't...come near me..." She did as he said, not taking another step toward him, but also not stepping away. Aggression was written plainly over him and there was the fact that, once again, he looked uncomfortable in his very own skin. The ripped clothing was testimony to that. He was like a giant wounded animal, trying his best to recover, breathing hard and not trusting anything to come too close.

"Marcus," she pleaded softly. It hurt her to see him in such a state. "Marcus, please tell me what's wrong."

He gave a humorless laugh, not looking at her. "Isn't it obvious? People have been saying it for years, but hey, who knew they'd actually be right?" She didn't like that tone, her concern rising as he continued to speak with such self-hatred.

"Marcus, the troll. Marcus, the troll. Hell, the general public knew before I ever did," he sneered. He looked her way again, making her tense up. "I'm sure you've been curious. You're smart, Marie. You knew something was different about me, didn't you? You noticed on the train at the beginning of the term."

She nodded, not sure if she should speak.

"I'm bigger than I should be, stronger too. Strong like you wouldn't believe. And I'm angry, all the time. It doesn't go away, it just builds and builds and suddenly I can't even breathe and everything goes red," he continued. "Those Gryffindor kids almost got a taste of it. The ones who tripped you before the Cup match? Yeah, one wrong step and I would've been expelled for violence, that's for certain. I could hear them whispering from where I was. Did you know? Trolls have bloody incredible hearing, I hear everything all the time. And I'm hungry, starving, all the time too which adds to making me angry. A vicious circle, really."

Marie dared to move closer and his eyes snapped to her again.

"Don't," he warned. "Don't get close. I'd hate to hurt you."

"You're bleeding," she stated gently. "I just want to take a look. Is that all right with you?"

He looked down at his hands, as if just noticing that they were cut up and steadily dripping blood, and he gave a vague jerk of a nod. Marie kept her cautious pace, approaching him. She shrugged off her robe and brought his hand to her eye level, using the lightest possible touch she could manage. With much care and precision, she removed the shrapnel from the black board that had lodged in his knuckles, dropping the pieces to the floor. His left hand was especially bad, the damage around the silver band he always wore on his left ring finger, the crest muddled by the blood. Using her own robe, she started to dab away the blood while inspecting for any stray shards. While she worked on his other hand, he spoke up again.

"I spent Christmas at St. Mungo's." Green glanced up, catching him watching her and he looked away before continuing. "The Healers tried everything. They couldn't undo any of the troll characteristics: constantly starving, aggression, ridiculous strength, or the stupid sensitive hearing. I'm stuck with it."

"When did it start?" she asked quietly, touching up his other hand.

"This summer," he sighed. "I was trying to work out to get ready for Quidditch season and none of my weights were heavy enough to put on any kind of strain. Next, my clothes weren't fitting, always tearing or too tight. Then one night I mangled a water goblet at dinner, unintentionally. I thought I was just holding it like I usually did, but when I set it down it fell over since my hand had warped the stem. Mother threw a fit."

Marie was done tending to his hands, both of them were wrapped up in her robe and it resembled a poorly constructed bind, pretending to tie them together. She still held his hands in hers, keeping the contact, proving that she was safe near him. He continued talking, everything he kept pent up all year spilling for her to hear.

"She didn't take it very well, my mother. Blamed my father for it, since the curse came from his side of the family. As if it was his fault our ancestor had some sordid affair with troll and their magic. That something was wrong with me, that's why I inherited it. She even tried to turn Vivienne against me. Called me a monster." She gasped sharply, looking up at him.

"That's a terrible thing to say, especially to her own son!" said Marie, offended. He gave that humorless laugh again and her insides twisted, hating the sound.

"She's not wrong. I'm not fully magical or full troll, I'm just some strange abomination of the two," he defended.

"She's wrong."

Marcus looked down at the younger girl, surprised by her conviction. Green eyes looked up at him, burning with determination. He noticed that she hadn't let go of his hands either. He was completely blown away by the fact that she was still in the room instead of running back to the school for a teacher after seeing the wreck he caused. She was either brave or incredibly naive. Both, most likely.

"You're not a monster, Marcus Flint," she informed him sternly. "I've seen true monsters, ugly and beautiful, and you are no monster. Trust me, I've seen worse." A quirk of a smile dared to pull at his mouth.

"I'm starting to question the people you hang out with," he managed. She smiled brightly, thrilled that he was feeling somewhat better.

"Are you ready to head back up to the castle? Professor Snape still needs to speak with you," she reminded. His smile faded and she felt that maybe she had taken two steps backwards.

"Right," he mumbled. "Suppose I do need to go see him." He looked about the room, spotting a crumpled piece of parchment on the floor. He gestured toward it with his bound hands. "Do you mind? You can read it if you want."

Nodding, Marie retrieved the letter while Marcus focused on freeing his hands. Smoothing out the torn parchment, her eyes skimmed the few lines of writing. Her brow lowered as she frowned. She read it again to make sure. When she was certain, she looked back over to her captain who was folding her robe up, his hands free. This was the reason why he was so angry at breakfast.

"You have to repeat this year?" she asked gently. He nodded, handing her back her robe, taking the letter in exchange.

"On top of everything else," he gave a hard sigh. She picked his robe off the floor and returned it to him. He shrugged it on, successfully covering his worn and beaten uniform. Marie kept hers draped over her arm as they started down the hall. Acting on impulse, she threw her arms around Marcus, burying her face in his chest due to their height difference. Dark grey eyes were wide as he looked down at her, stunned, unsure of how to react.

"Marie...?"

"Sorry," she apologized, stepping back. "I just figured you needed it." He gave a quirk of a smile, a small laugh. He tossed his arm over her shoulder as they continued to walk out of the locker where Bole and Derrick were waiting for them.

"Whatever you say, Marie."

The Hogwarts Express pulled away from the school, scarlet smoke floating up to the clear blue sky. The Slytherin third years managed to find an empty compartment and secure it for themselves. Marie was looking out the window, watching the beautiful castle fade away and become hidden by a mountain as they left it further behind.

"Cheer up, Marie," teased Pansy. "We've hardly even left!" The wild haired girl gave a laugh, turning away from the scene.

"You're right," she sighed. "Though it's another year gone."

"About time," cheered Pansy. "I'm so ready for break. This year's been stressful!"

"Do you think next year will be a quiet one?" asked Millie, looking up from her book. The students broke out in a fit of laughter.

"I doubt that we'll ever get a quiet year," guessed Marie. "I don't think we'd know what to do if that happened."

The ride back to King Cross Station was a pleasant one of delicious food, laughter and better company. London arrived too soon, the brakes screeching the train to a halt at Platform 9 and 3/4. They gathered their belongings, trunks and pets all accounted for. Sebastian behaved properly in his cage, looking about at the louder pets with a certain air of disapproval, Marie thought with a giggle.

"Be sure to write!" called Millie with a wave. Marie returned the gesture, standing up on her tiptoes to be seen.

"We'll come visit!" promised Pansy, pushing her trolley away from the last two Slytherins and toward her parents.

Laughing, Draco and Marie started to make their way toward the immaculately dressed Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. With a brief hug from the lady Malfoy, the students went to put their things away so they could return to Wiltshire for the summer. Draco's face lit up as he helped Marie lift her trunk.

"Hey, did I tell you?" he asked, grey eyes bright. She giggled at his enthusiasm.

"I don't know? Tell me what?" she asked.

"The Quidditch World Cup is this summer, father always gets us tickets. Have you ever been?" he asked. She visibly brightened at the prospect, imagining the thrill of attending such an important game with professional Quidditch players, the highest standing game that played only once every four years.

"I haven't, but it sounds exciting!"

Coming Soon:

Year Four: The Goblet of Fire

REVIEW!

Oh my gosh, we made it, my readers! We survived The Prisoner of Azkaban!

(confetti canons!) YAY!

I'm so excited, excited, excited, excited! We've been through so much and I'm so proud to have you all as my readers, having put up with my random disappearing acts I pull throughout the year (100 percent guilty). You've all been fantastic, you beautiful people you!

Everything's all tied up for this year: Hermione finding out, Marcus Flint's curse rearing it's ugly head, and getting ready for next year!

Next year is so busy! Quidditch World Cup, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball, You-Know-Who drama! Plus new characters!

(explodes from excitement) I don't know how I'm going to cope, but with you guys, we'll conquer The Goblet of Fire!

I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you guys soon with the first chapter of GoF!