A/N: This may not be the last you hear from Rowena, but for the moment I would like to introduce you to Juniper Berkeley, proof that life really does go on. Please do not flame because you think I'm bringing Rowena back to life- in essence, reincarnating her, a prime opportunity for making her a Mary-Sue. I'm not. Juniper is a distinct person with distinct differences. Rowena's less likely to break rules, has less potential for deviousness, is less likely to think outside the box, and perhaps less practical. For example, although Rowena and Juniper both have tree names (ish) Rowena's actually comes from the root name rowan, which, althoughalso a tree name, was chosen because I was after a red, firey kind of name. Nowhere, except in the thick of battle, does it say Rowena's glasses are dirty orbroken. Rowena is also more idealistic amd laid-back. If you force me to illustrate it (and I can) I will. Just - no - flames.THIS IS NOT A PLOT DEVICE TO BRING ROWENA BACK TO LIFE. THAT WOULD BE THICK.I may be as twisty as heck and Ican tell a decent lie, which is why I am Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor,but I don't muck with my characters.

Disclaimer: Si tu creo que es mio, tu eres muy, muy loco. (If you think this is mine, you are certifiably losing your marbles.)

Disclaimer 1a: Except Rowena,Juniperand The Shades Of Hogwarts

Disclaimer 2: I have just finished my second year of learning Spanish. If the above is incorrect or rude,it isn't my fault. Myfather didn't go into much detail on swearwords, although I now do a nice line in translated Spanish dirty jokes.

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It was only a month or two after Rowena's return to Hogwarts when a first-year, stamping through ankle-deep snow, came up to her. "Is it true you died here last year?" she asked.

The first-year reminded Rowena of someone. Untidy brown hair was neatly tied back with a red ribbon. Serious hazel eyes, made enormous by a large pair of rather cloudy round black-rimmed glasses, wound with duct tape on one arm, peered at her. The girl noticed Rowena's look. "Duct tape is like the Force," she quoted. "Black on one side, white on the other and it holds the world together." She wore Gryffindor's colours, a red and gold scarf wound thickly around her throat against the chill coming off the nearby lake. A leather-bound book was clasped to her chest and she had a solid, dependable look. She wore sturdy black boots slightly worn at the tips and her cheeks were pink from the cold.

Rowena now realised that Juniper reminded Rowena at least a bit of herself, and was briefly annoyed at the deity responsible for clichés. "What's your name?" Rowena enquired, annoyance passing as she recalled several doubtful specimens of her own.

The first-year made a face, perhaps because of her name, perhaps because Peeves had just tossed a snowball straight through Rowena to impact on the first-year's visage. "PEEVES! Do you want me to get the Bloody Baron?" Rowena bellowed and turned back to the first-year.

"I'm so sorry," Rowena apologized. "I didn't catch that."

"Juniper," the first-year muttered. "Ju."

Rowena raised her eyebrows. "Juniper?..."

"Juniper Berkeley," Juniper completed. "Known as Ju... ma'am."

Rowena grinned. "We trees must stick together. Call me Rowena, and I shall call you Ju."

"Rowena," Juniper tried. Gaining more confidence, she said, "I only asked if it were true you died last year because I looked in this book-" she held up the tome; its silver-printed title was The Shades Of Hogwarts "-and it didn't mention you at all. Do you know what they call you?"

Rowena blinked. "No. Tell me- what do they call me?"

Juniper smiled. "They call you the brazen lady."

"Huh!" Rowena exclaimed. "Please tell them I have got a name. It's Rowena, as you know."

"I will," Juniper promised. She paused. "If it's not entirely rude, how did you die?"

"It's not," Rowena assured her. "I died because I got in the way of a post-Quidditch-match fight between Gryffindors and Slytherins. I could have waited, I suppose, for teachers and prefects to arrive, but I didn't."

"Why didn't you?" Juniper asked curiously.

Rowena thought. "I could see little first-years and second years in there," she answered after a bit, looking up to thick, heavy clouds. "When you next see a second- or third-year standing on a pedestal of bravado, just picture a scared fist-or second-year caught up in a maze of fists, feet and jinxes. It wasn't fair to leave them in there, and of course, I couldn't just back away from a brawl in my role as a prefect, could I?"

"You could," Juniper said frankly.

Rowena stuck her ghostly tongue out at Juniper.

"That's just gruesome," Juniper told her firmly.

"No, ghostly," Rowena corrected. "There's a difference. And I couldn't walk away. It wouldn't have been fair or right."

"You were a Gryffindor, then," Juniper stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Rowena said. She gave a little smile. "You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart; their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart."

"Isn't that one of the Sorting Hat's rhymes?" Juniper queried. "Sounds like it."

Rowena stopped, floating perhaps an inch off the ground. "And how would you know what the Sorting Hat's rhymes sound like?"

"People quote them," Juniper said. "I like to watch and listen. It lets me think."

"I'm sure it does."

Juniper dusted a seat free of snow, sat down and put her head to one side. "Tell me about you," she said.

Rowena grinned to herself. Just so she would demand; just so she wouldprise answers from the person she was interrogating. Rowena, at least, would always give Juniper the answers she craved.

"It all starts with the concept of justice..." she began.