Freddy ran up three flights of stairs to the apartment, her black satchel bouncing loudly on every step. A stitch clawed at her gut by the time she came to the third floor and she leaned against the moldy wall for a minute, panting.

“Fat Freddy! Fat Freddy! Fat Freddy!” The singing goat taunted, interspacing every note with a loud, enthusiastic “baaaa!”

Professor Fotherby stormed into the staffroom, slammed the door shut behind her and screamed directly into the goat’s face, “Shut the bloody hell up!”

Unfortunately for her, the room was not quite empty.

Fotherby’s voice filtered out of her office. “Next!”

Hermione pulled herself up and ambled over to the room.

Professor Fotherby was sitting at her desk. She glanced up briefly when Hermione came to the door, smiled and beckoned to her eagerly.

“Come in! Come in! Have a seat. I just have to finish this up, it’ll only take a second.”

For perhaps the first time ever, Freddy thought Trelawney looked annoyed.

“Really,” she huffed, her bangles tinkering once more on the table as she slapped her palm down, “What nonsense! Tell me, Forbia, what did you see?”

Freddy felt forced to comply. A cough swelled in her throat and choked her. Her ribs seemed to tighten around her lungs as a searing pain shot through her chest.

“A building,” she panted, once the spasm had ceased. “A stone building.”

“I don’t know,” Freddy answered truthfully. “It’s awfully complicated…or not complicated at all. I haven’t told anyone except Sibyl.”

McGonagall’s brow furrowed at the name, and she looked decidedly cat-like. “Then there is something wrong.”

“Maybe.” Freddy felt at a loss, wanting to be both discreet and entirely forthcoming. “I don’t know…it’s…I’ve been having nightmares.”

Turning off the High Street, Freddy headed towards the Hog’s Head and even contemplated stopping inside for some warm cider.

But then she caught sight of Mr. Lias just next door, teetering on top of a three-step ladder trying to clean egg off his store front.

Freddy did not bother to stifle her laughter when he tried to remove the mess with a summoning spell and ended up, quite literally, with egg on his face.

Freddy was immensely proud of her article, “American Muggle Tuberculosis Sanatoriums as Magical Hot-Spots” until Professor Hendrickson wrote his commentary on it.

“Although Fotherby’s work with Muggle hauntings and hospitals may be considered unique, her conclusions are entirely based on a simplistic, new-wave school of thinking attributed to energies and forces which must be viewed with great scepticism by the scholarly community…”

Again, Trelawney seemed to read Lupin's thoughts. “It is true,” she insisted. “She has dreams, you see, violent dreams. I noticed her talent at once when she came under my tutelage. But, ah,” she paused and sighed, “Forbia is stubborn and so very frightened. I think you will be the one to help her, though, Remus. Yes, it will be you.”

It was only after all the chaos had settled, only after all the questions were asked and answered that Freddy was left alone…entirely alone with the memory of him.

And she was haunted.

The revelation hit Hermione with such a force that she jumped up, knocking over her goblet. The few students lingering in the Hall stared at her.

Coincidences, coincidences, what did they matter?

Nothing.

And everything.

Hermione stared at the white bed sheets that covered her legs. For some reason, she felt extraordinarily guilty.

She had suspected that Fotherby had let Sirius Black into the castle. And she had immediately connected her with Quirrell’s betrayal.

And she had failed…completely failed, to discover her sickness until it was too late.