"Remus, Severus, please stay behind."
Albus Dumbledore's voice carried clearly through the staff room, barely earning a few puzzled glances from the other teachers that were just about to leave, none of them particularly intrigued and long-since accustomed to the odd behavior of the old man.
Albus saw Minerva's face contorting into a display of displeasure, knowing what was about to be discussed behind closed doors, and her not being included would do little to soothe her own worries. He sent her a small, placating smile and a look in his eyes, which told her he would entrust her later on with the contents of this unscheduled meeting.
The two teachers who were told to stay behind sat across each other, closer to Dumbledore than the rest of the staff had been placed. One of them was dressed in the customary black robes befitting his post, buttoned up all the way, hiding the shabby clothes that he wore beneath, mostly muggle in origin, as they were far cheaper to acquire. All of his appearance, face, eyes, body posture, conveyed an image of a warm, affable, if a bit weary and wary of the world, persona. One would think no one could possibly hold something against the man.
One would think.
But Severus Snape did hold something against the man, against the beast that pretended to be a man. No matter what he might look on the outside, no matter that his gestures appeared as kind, his personality as benevolent, if a bit reserved, beneath it all lurked an inhuman monster which would eagerly tear apart everything in its path, be they friend or foe.
Then there was the fact that the man's mind was locked away from him, protected as it was by the virulent plague he carried in his very blood. By nature, Snape did not like secrets, or at least secrets that were not his own or unknown to him, so this merely added yet another reason to despise him.
Dumbledore pretended not to notice the unconcealed look of loathing that Snape held on his face each time Remus Lupin came into his field of vision, and patted down his beard several times as if to chase away dust mites, before a common expression, for him, appeared on his face.
"Lemon drops?" Dumbledore offered, as was his custom. And as was Snape's custom, he scowled at the offer of the muggle sweets, while Lupin humbly accepted a few in his palm, before unwrapping one of them and popping it in his mouth. Dumbledore smiled at his newest teacher, once former student.
"Before we move onto our main subject, would you tell me, Remus, how have you been settling into teaching?" Dumbledore asked, a grandfatherly smile on his face.
"Surprisingly well," Lupin admitted, looking slightly bashful, "Aside from the fact that the last year of Defense against the Dark Arts was, uhh, taught by Gilderoy Lockhart, and that the only lesson he seemed to impart to the students was on how to escape from Pixies or fight them off, the students seem rather apt and eager to actually learn."
"The first-years are, of course, new to Hogwarts, and so far nothing much has been achieved, but that's to be expected. The second-years, well, I've given them a list of books to make up for the past year, which was utterly wasted, and I'm confident they'll be able to catch up in the very first two months with most of the classwork before I start teaching them more about what is appropriate for their second year."
"And the third-years?"
"Ah," the weathered looking wizard began slightly smacking his lips, followed by twisting and tapping his fingers against the desk, "I've tested them, in groups, about their knowledge for the first two years, and most of them have been able to answer my questions."
"Most?"
"Yes, well, there's a few who seem less than inclined to pay attention in class, or even study what they should have studied before coming to class. Let me see here." Lupin moved his chair slightly away from the desk, before bending down across one of the armrests to rummage through a bag that laid near it on the floor.
When he pulled himself back up he held in his hands a stack of parchment.
"Ah, there we go. Hufflepuff has only three students which need to study more: Zacharias Smith, Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley. I've told them in what areas they need to improve, and I think the boys will listen to my advice, so I don't think they'll be held back for more than a few weeks."
"The three of them are utterly worthless at Potions, I'm not surprised they are incompetent at other subjects as well." Snape drawled, while sporting a bored look on his face, and at the same time avoiding to look at Lupin.
Lupin gave a small cough before continuing, unsure on how to respond to the man that had mostly ignored him since his arrival at Hogwarts as the new teacher. "Yes, well... as I was saying... from Gryffindor, we have Ronald Weasley and Seamus Finnigan. In my opinion, they just need to build up a work ethic, and study up on theory more. Their practical work during class is about average, I think."
Snape kept silent on his well-known opinions concerning Gryffindors, who were all dunderheads anyway, incapable of learning or, at the very least, comprehending the subtle art of Potions.
After a few more moments of silence, Dumbledore spoke up, "And what of the other two Houses?"
"Hm?" Lupin appeared briefly startled by the question, before giving a small smile as an apology for getting lost in thought. "Yes, uh, Ravenclaw is, as expected, well up to speed with the theory, bit lacking on the practical, but nothing really unusual about it. They'll get the hang of it pretty quickly."
"And Slytherin?" Albus asked.
"Well, from Slytherin third-years, only Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe are the issue. They're... well, not to sound too unkind, Severus, but they seem unable to grasp a lot of concepts when it comes to both theory and practicing it."
Snape grit his teeth at the very thought of a Slytherin being demeaned as much by another teacher in his presence, yet could not find it within himself to try and refute the accusation, which was sadly true.
Personally, he longed for the day when their fifth year was over so that he could banish them out of his classroom for good; they were exceedingly lazy in the class, and apparently illiterate as they tended to confuse one ingredient for another, before popping them into their cauldrons.
It was only by the grace of Snape's ever-watchful strides, and interventions, through the classroom that their cauldrons didn't explode, like Longbottom's so often did. He really did dislike taking off points from Slytherins, but he would not mollycoddle and suffer idiots in such a dangerous practical subject, more for others' sakes than the two of them.
"Good, good," Dumbledore said, "And the upper-years?"
Once more, Lupin bent down to the bag on the floor, before another stack of paper was held between his hands, this one significantly larger. Quite so, at that. Dumbledore would make sure to ask Lupin about them, but not now, when there were far more pressing matters to be dealt with.
"Ah, I see you've been quite diligent, Remus," who seemed unused to praise, and bowed his head low in response, "But I'm afraid that we'll have to shelve the talk about upper-years for later, I would not wish to keep Severus away from his dungeons, no doubt there are various, delicate potions which need to be kept under close observation." The Potions Master nodded his head just the slightest, though not without a bit of a distasteful look on his face. Dumbledore leaned a bit forward, resting his hands on the desk instead of on his belly. "Tell me, Remus, how is Harry doing in class?"
The question caused the man to visibly wince, almost flinch, which earned him curious looks from both the Headmaster and the Potions Master.
"Yes, well... Harry's a good student."
After a minute of awkward silence, Dumbledore said, "Is that all you noticed about him in your class, Remus?" with no actual hint of a reprimand, but rather a desire for a more elaborate answer to his previously asked question.
Lupin's amber eyes seemed to cloud over before clearing up in the next moment as he mulled over what to say. He couldn't speak of what he had noticed, not everything in any case.
"He's.. attentive in class, knows the past curriculum, the one which should have been taught, exceedingly well, and if I've guessed right, he's the only one who has actually purchased the other four tomes in the collection of books, of which I recommended only the first for the school list."
At receiving an inquisitive glance from the Headmaster, he elaborated.
"I've seen the other books in his bag when they were packing them away after the first class of Defense." After a few moments of deliberation, he added, "He is quite proficient with spell-casting, unusually so, and has never raised his voice above a conversational volume when speaking incantations, unlike most of his yearmates, who seem to still think that volume of incantations boosts the strength of spells. Which, I suppose, it does, in a way."
"Perhaps he's not as participative as some others are in class, he never raises his hand or asks questions for something to be explained further, but that doesn't mean that he's not knowledgeable about the subject. I believe he is the only one, aside from a few extra studious Ravenclaws, who actually managed to explain, quite verbosely at that, several things, with words of his own making rather than simple memorization and repetition of what the book tells about it."
"Several things?" Dumbledore inquired further.
Lupin nodded, recalling briefly of questions asked and answers provided, before he replied. "It was in the second portion of the double block from yesterday, when I had started prompting the class to tell me of what they knew about Dark creatures and such. Many stayed silent, though few seemed to have some knowledge, but were unwilling to speak. I'd picked Harry then to speak out, as he seemed the only one not to fidget under my gaze."
Lupin smiled indulgently, while neglecting to inform them of how cold and distant the child appeared, and how uneasy it had been when the child didn't seem to shy away from their locked gazes, which thankfully the other students barely noticed.
"When I asked them a few basic questions, and he replied to each and every one concisely, I could tell he was holding back something back, so I gave out a few more questions, and he had actually given me rather... unusual responses."
Dumbledore's curiosity was stoked with this new bit of information regarding Harry Potter. "Unusual in what way, my dear boy?"
"Well, first it had been just a few simple questions, about creatures like Red Caps, how they came to exist, where they can usually be found. Then I switched onto Boggarts, which I'm going to showcase to them at the end of the month or beginning of next, and Grindylows. He knew the answers on how to recognize them, how to fight them off and even how to make them simply back off. Well, except for the Boggart, you can only make them back off, and not much else."
"That's not so unusual, is it?"
"Oh no, not at all, it shows he's read a bit ahead. I hadn't thought of having the third-years have any sort of experience with Grindylows or knowledge of them, until they were in their second half of the term, while the idea with the Boggart simply popped out at me, quite literally so, from one of those less-used storerooms on the third floor. Now, as I was saying, I then asked him a question out of the blue, so to speak, about Thestrals."
"I know Hagrid keeps more than just those who pull the carriages, plus there are those in the Forest itself, so I thought I might try to introduce the children to them in the second term, and I might as well probe into his knowledge, or so I thought to myself at the moment."
"What a preposterous and idiotic idea," Snape drawled with derision. "Tell me, Lupin, has your brain been deteriorating in your absence away from the magical communities of Britain so much that you forget the simple fact that most third years, and even most students at Hogwarts, are unlikely to be able to see Thestrals? Not everyone has been around death as much you have."
"Severus," Albus spoke with a harsh tone, reprimanding and restraining the acerbic Potions Master.
Lupin, for his part, looked sufficiently ashamed of the fact that seemed to have slipped past him so easily. "No, no, he's quite right, I did forget. Still..." a small frown graced his face. "Albus, when he was retrieved from Godric's Hollow, was...?"
Tension sprung in the room, brought about by the mention of a rather sore, and still raw for some, wound.
"Yes, Remus?" Dumbledore's eyes belied his calm appearance, his failure to keep James and Lily safe an ever-present reminder of how fallible he could be.
"Was there any chance that Harry had seen someone die before him at the time?" Remus finally managed to voice the question, just barely, his tongue thick and his throat constricting with emotions that ran beneath the surface.
Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "None that I could think of. Lily," and how heavy the name weighed on all their minds, morose mood spreading to each of them with the very mention of it, "had been found near the room, but not inside it. He could not have seen anything."
"Even if he had witnessed... something, it would not have mattered. One must be capable of understanding what it is they're seeing, capable of understanding that someone before them is dying. A recollection from a baby, one that is eighteen months old, would not matter, even if he could recall it, which I doubt." Severus chimed in with his opinion, his voice carrying dangerously low, hurt barely hidden from the others in the room. His lightless eyes turned, with considerable effort, towards Lupin, locking onto his, before speaking again. "Why do you ask this question, Lupin?"
It was a few moments of silence, which the other two allowed for, before Lupin answered. "He describes them rather well. Too well. Not just in appearance; habits, nesting areas, behavior around humans, their diet and so on. As if he had seen them before, as if he had interacted with them at great length. And what's more is that I could hear a bit of a gentle tone in his voice when he spoke of them. It wasn't much, but it managed to stand out in contrast to how different it sounded to his previous responses to my questions. You are sure, Albus, Severus?"
Both of them nodded in unison.
"Then I haven't an idea why he would know them so well." He shook his head. "Perhaps I'm simply seeing things that aren't there. Perhaps he's just that well read and interested in this year's curriculum."
"Perhaps," Albus acquiesced, though in the back of his mind a number of possibilities played out. "His veritable knowledge aside, will you approach him outside of the classroom?" Dumbledore gave Lupin a small, sad smile. "You were after all a very dear friend of James and Lily, I'm sure the boy would like to learn more about them."
"Not yet," Lupin said, "I'll give him some time before doing so. Let him become somewhat acclimated to my presence. Even so, he will ask questions, Albus. Questions that might not be prudent for me to reply with complete honesty. What shall I do then?"
"The truth." Strangely enough, the words came from Snape rather than Dumbledore. "Do not omit parts of the stories, do not lie to him and do not exaggerate about the supposed nobility of James Potter." Snape's lip curled up in disgust at the very utterance of the name, hate still as fresh as the day he had lost Lily to him, by his own foolishness at that. "Either you tell him the truth or not. I suspect he will be able to quickly deduce you are hiding or holding something back, and that will not gain you any favors with him." He then rose up from the desk, and left the staff room behind, his cloak billowing behind him.
"Well, that was rather ominous," Dumbledore said in an amused tone, intent on dispelling the tension that seemed to suffocate the room even more after Severus had left it.
"He does have a point," Lupin admitted, his brow scrunched up in thoughtfulness. "It wouldn't do any good to approach Harry, tell him I knew his parents and then withhold some of the less pleasant parts of our shared past."
"Ah yes... I presume you speak of the fourth Marauder?" Albus' voice was gentle, and remorseful that this unpleasant subject had been brought up.
Remus Lupin could only nod, not willing to even voice the name of the traitor, before he was lost in contemplation and memories. All these years, and still the wound ached, the void in his heart never to be filled, friends never to be embraced. It was an extremely depressing past when one looked at it from that particular perspective. One which he did not relish to be retold by anyone, let alone by him to his friends' son.
It had been such a surprise for him when he saw Harry, briefly, during the welcoming feast. He could only take note of where the child sat and what colors he wore. Not Gryffindor, not the fiery crimson and molten gold, but the dark, deep green and cold silver of Slytherin. That were what his thoughts revolved about as he left the feast halfway through, to retreat to the Shrieking Shack and endure yet another cycle.
It was the first cycle that Remus went through, where he still remained conscious of himself and in control. All thanks to a certain concoction. Grudge or no grudge, Severus took his position at Hogwarts severely, and in order to insure the safety of students, as he had so crudely reminded Lupin of the past, he would be the one to brew the necessary potions for him when they were needed.
For what it was worth, Remus could never hate Severus, nor hold a grudge against him, not like James did at first. But nor could he forget the past, a past that had haunted him on that first night back at Hogwarts, going through a cycle of pain and transformation, in a place where friendship was forged and reforged anew with every coming of the full moon.
Now that he had seen James' and Lily's boy, he was unsure on what to think about the child. He was so cold, cold in ways Remus could never imagine a child of his friends would ever be. And the boy hated him. That much was clear by scent alone. Sometimes Remus wished for those tales of inhuman senses to be just tales for once and not the truth.
True, it was not perhaps as perceptive as some imagined it to be, one could not simply sense emotions rolling off people, they had to be strong emotions and one needed to be near them to even sense them. So when he passed close by Harry's seat in the classroom, overseeing how the students were doing with the written exam, meant to test the knowledge they accumulated so far, Remus had experienced a rather gutting feeling with the waves of pure hate that simply rolled off from the boy.
He didn't know if other students noticed him abruptly halting on the spot and turning his head sideways to observe the boy. What he did know was that for all the strength of emotion that his scent carried, his appearance betrayed none of it.
It never left him, the knowledge that he was not fully human. A bitter reminder of things lost, of things he never had nor would have a chance to gain.
Harry hated him. Which meant he knew who he was even before he introduced himself to the class.
And that was alright, because Remus hated himself as well.
It had been fairly easy to pinpoint the reason for Hadrian's strange behavior on Tuesday, which was two days past now. Apparently there was some connection between him and the newest fill-in for Defense, who, despite his less than presentable look, was an adequate, perhaps even more than adequate but only time would tell, teacher.
Then again, after Quirrell and Lockhart, Daphne didn't exactly have much to compare him to. Perhaps this school year's Defense against the Dark Arts would be a class worth attending after all. And just like that, with the very thought of the class' full description, her thoughts rounded back to Hadrian, which amused her just a tiny bit.
Despite the temporary aberration in Hadrian's behavior, he had been surprisingly amicable with her. Oh yes, he still kept her at bay, despite all of the feigned affection, which was quite well played and would be mistaken for the truth by everyone around them, but beneath it all had been something quite odd. She could almost describe it as him being... comfortable around her. A not unpleasant thought at all.
Was this the product of secrets and scars shared? Was that all it took for him to be less wary around her? If so, it had been a price well worth paying.
The return of loathing in Astoria's plain, brown eyes was also highly welcomed, and more than once Daphne found herself suppressing the urge to laugh or to include Hadrian in on the sight of the pathetic and impotent little girl. At times like these, hate, that was ever-present within Daphne, made her feel almost on the verge of breaking free from the limits that had been placed upon her.
A more reasonable, logical part of her knew this was just a fleeting delusion, but the hate was never pushed out of the way, rather, it was absorbed and stored away for days when no bindings bound her, when her magic would use it as kindling, when curses of great beauty and violence would finally flow free from her yew wand. Thoughts of exercising her will freely like that sent shivers of pleasures down her scalp and spine.
Which Hadrian seemed to notice more often than not, though he would not give her away to anyone that might be around them, whether in the common room or on the outside. She occasionally wondered what he must think of her.
Though she had not been explicit in stating what would be done once the bindings were torn apart, Daphne presumed that he had already conjectured a fairly accurate guess on what would happen. She would occasionally ponder if he would join her in the deeds to come, and more so, if he would help her in performing them, like she had promised, and wanted, to do for him.
Already, he was dabbling in Dark magic, each morning carrying remnants of it across his skin, lingering like dew on leaves. Daphne could not have honestly predicted such a steep increase in his practice of the Dark Arts, while they were back here at Hogwarts. She always imagined the old castle had some wards to detect the spells and alert either the Headmaster himself or one of the Heads of Houses where and when such spells were practiced.
Perhaps it simply alerted them if they were of sufficient severity? No, that made little sense, there was rarely anything in the Dark Arts which was less than generous with the amount of harm it could bring onto someone. In any case, it was a puzzle to be solved at a later time.
Now though, she had to depart away from her chair, and move back onto the couch where she usually sat with Davis and the rest. It was done rather grudgingly, and Hadrian seemed to sense the emotion within her, as he always accompanied her temporary departure with the slightest of smirks and amusement in his green eyes.
Yet she did not truly mind it, it allowed her to play a role, to subtly weave dislike of Astoria, Malfoys and their cohorts to the rest of the group. Daphne need not have bothered with trying instill dislike of Malfoys in Tracey Davis though, the girl had more than enough reasons to hate the pompous platinum blonde witch. Zabini also held some distaste for Malfoys in general, thanks to Delinda, who was as subtle as a bludger. If there was anything that the dark-skinned boy despised, it was crassness and vulgarity.
Nott and Parkinson... those two were unknown quantities. It didn't matter that they had already spent several months prior in the past school year within the group, they both did it for their own reasons. Theodore Nott seemed impervious to any outside influence, only involving himself in the workings of the group when they had a study or a homework session.
When Daphne spun her weaving with sly words, as a spider weaves a web, he remained either completely ignorant of it, always surrounded by books as he was, or simply chose to ignore it. As long as he did nothing to potentially harm Daphne in any sense, he could keep his precious neutrality.
Pansy Parkinson was a different matter altogether. She was in fact one of the reasons why Daphne could not stay away from the small clique they had formed, for fear that the girl would try and wrest the group away from Daphne. For all intents and purposes, Parkinson often reminded her of a would-be queen bee.
No, she would not be influenced outright into disliking, or loathing, Astoria and the Malfoys. No matter that Delinda Malfoy was worth little in their Housemates eyes, for Parkinson she still remained a Malfoy. No doubt she did not seek to aggravate the girl any further, due to some subconscious fear of what Malfoy Senior might do in his dealings with her family.
And as far as the rest of the Slytherins in their year were concerned, they did not care one whit about the social politicking. Truth be told, neither did Daphne, but it would have been foolish of her to leave such a tool unused when it could have been easily subverted and used by another against her.
Daphne gently pulled away from any further thoughts of schemes and manipulations when she saw the seventh-year prefect, Moon, approaching the spot in the common room where Hadrian currently was. For a moment it seemed like she was about to sit in her chair, which caused ire to rise within Daphne, but then the girl seemed to tilt her head to the side and smile at Hadrian, who was naturally hidden away from the rest of the common room by the high-backed end of his chair, before she summoned one of the other empty chairs that were near, and placed herself in it.
When the crackle of fire vanished from her hearing, Daphne knew that a privacy spell was cast, to obscure whatever those two wished to discuss. That naturally prompted yet another distracting train of thoughts in Daphne's mind. What could she have possibly wanted from Hadrian?
Several hours later, Hadrian was wondering what this new trade, this bargain, he was about to strike with Mellisa Moon would ask of him. He also worried that the older girl would not perhaps so easily agree to his part of the bargain. Not to mention that he would have to ask beforehand for a Witch's Oath from her, one to bind her in silence for what words would be exchanged in the privacy of his room.
Most likely, she would not like that, if not outright hate it and reject any further dealings with him.
Just moments after his latest contemplation, a knocking was heard. If nothing else, Moon seemed to have wanted to deal with this in utter secrecy, considering she had told the hour for this meeting would occur past midnight, when most, if not all, students were long gone to their rooms and sleeping in their beds. Somehow he doubted Daphne was sleeping, the pointed look she sent him before he went away from the common room told of her undisguised curiosity, of her need to know what his conversation with Moon was all about.
When he opened his door, Moon was indeed there, dressed in one of the more unique robes he had seen so far since he was introduced to this world of wizards and witches. It was part dress, part robes, with a light coat covering her top. Colors of Slytherin were predominant, green and silver weaving themselves through the material in shapes of feathers and scales, embedded into whatever material it was made from. Though that is not to say that other colors were absent, or that there was only one shade or tint of green present on her clothes.
Hadrian quickly pulled his focus away from her robes and back onto her, hoping his brief lapse of attention had gone unnoticed. It hadn't, and Moon smiled at him, a silent thing, yet he could imagine laughter which might emerge from her throat any moment now.
"Do come in, Moon," Hadrian invited her in, pulling the door fully to the side and stepping along with it, not quite keen on turning his back on her. Sometimes the etiquette lessons were not completely unsound and without a purpose.
The brunette witch inclined her head at him just the slightest and briskly walked through the doorway and into the room, which was brightly illuminated by the lamps and the fire that pleasantly crackled in the hearth. The door was promptly shut and he joined her near the fireplace, where he had beforehand placed his own chair and transfigured yet another one for his guest.
Moon seemed far too much at comfort, and without knowing the reason behind it, it naturally made him feel at unease. It also reminded him of Daphne arriving to his room for the first time, and what that had brought about. Though Moon herself had, thankfully, settled in the transfigured chair, rather than his.
"Potter, I see you've fully settled into your room. I do hope you'll do what is necessary keeping it yours in the coming years."
'Pointless chatter, lovely,' is what he thought. "I don't see no reason why I wouldn't keep it, provided no new requirements are added or I am pointed to preexisting ones which were hid in the fine print," is what he said.
Moon smiled at him, again with that disturbing showing of her teeth. "No need to worry, there is no fine print. Just do as you have done in your last year, and it will remain yours. Now then, I'd like to dispense with the small talk, and inquire, quite directly, as to what you specifically seem to want from me."
Hadrian slowly pulled up the sleeve of his robes, revealing the holster beneath and his wand held in it. "Just a moment, if you would," he said before pulling out his wand slowly and carefully, following the proper protocols.
What followed was a series of already familiar motions to him, layering every suspect surface in the room with sound dampening, noise distortion and vision obscuring spells. As an extra precaution he wove a stunning spell around the handle of his door, along with the blinding curse.
Moon easily recognized the motions, still smiling with a predatory gleam in her ice-blue eyes. "Reading ahead was it, Potter? I do wonder how truly far ahead you have read. And from where exactly..." she left the rest unsaid, her fingers playfully tapping against the armrest.
He smiled back at her, congenially. "Books, of course. Where else?" His smile slowly dissipated away, and he summoned a parchment from his desk, the wording of an oath he would require of her, before this went any further, already written on it. "I'm afraid I must ask for this one thing from you before we speak of anything else either of us would want from one another. I apologize for appearing somewhat rude, but it is a necessity."
Moon accepted the parchment floating in the air in front of her, her fingers clasping onto it, as her eyes slowly looked over its content. A few minutes had passed in comfortable silence, before they were ended with the sound of laughter.
"Oh my, Potter, such a cautious boy you are. Tell me, what do you plan on asking from me on this rather solemn night?" Moon mock pouted at him, playing the role of a half-amused, half-worried girl, which disturbingly enough fit well with her appearance.
Hadrian ignored the 'boy' slight. "Swear the oath and I will tell you, Moon. And speaking of caution, do tell me who it was that arranged this meeting in the dead of night, and then came to my room covered in a disillusionment spell."
His knowledge of how she arrived only served to amuse her further. "Oh very well, Potter. An oath you shall have, and so shall I." Out from one of her pockets she removed a folded parchment of her own and sent it towards him with a single motion from her wand.
He looked over the wording of the oath, looking for loopholes or hidden leverages she might hold over him. Finding none, he nodded his head at her, and she did the same. She went first with her oath and he followed after.
When magic acknowledged their oaths, binding them, some of the tension had bled away from the room, though none of them was foolish enough to think caution should be thrown out the door the moment the oaths were taken. Hadrian, for one, was curious why she would ask for an oath from him. What could she have possibly wanted from him that was of such sensitive nature it required an oath?
"Many things, Potter. Many, many things," Moon answered his unasked question, which must have played out a bit on his face. That or she was proficient in the Mind Arts. The thought unsettled him for a moment. "But we'll stick to the practical and useful ones, for now. Now, do tell, Potter, what it is you would ask of me to bring to you from the Restricted Section."
He didn't bother denying that was his price, she had no doubt known about it ever since he brought up the bargain at the beginning of the year. "I am looking into... older writings. Some of them are less practiced, frowned upon, and somewhat obscure rites."
Moon sighed, feigning exasperation. "I don't suppose it could be possible for you to provide me with the books' titles? Your vagueness isn't helping, Potter. If you want tomes about Dark magic and the Dark Arts, simply say so."
"I do believe you are jumping to unfounded assumptions, Moon," Hadrian said, an icy feeling flowing down his spine, cooling his blood in the process and tempering him with more caution. "I could be, for all you know, simply asking about some of the tomes about potions which are not allowed to be outside of the Restricted Section due to some of the more... potent potions that the books contain."
There it was again, both the smile and the gleam in her eyes. "Oh shush, Potter. No need to hide amongst friends," she drawled the sentence with practiced ease, making it sound almost like she cooed to him. "No need to hide in the company of a fellow Dark witch. Tell me something, how long have you been practicing the Dark Arts in your room? It is a positively splendid feeling to encounter such a lovely atmosphere here at Hogwarts, I do appreciate the comfort you have unwittingly provided for me."
If what flowed before in his veins was ice, now it was something far, far more harsh and colder than that. Pushing aside the fact that she knew what he would ask of her to fetch from the Restricted Section, there was the matter of her seemingly claiming to be a Dark witch and being able to feel Dark magic coating the room.
In his eagerness to vent, to cast those beautiful spells, he had neglected to think that others could possibly have a similar magical perception to his. Something of his thoughts must have shown across his face, because Moon chose then to speak again.
"There is little time for worry now, or at least it is far too late for you to worry at all. What's done is done. Let me assuage you, the spells... you had practiced here, they left a bit of themselves behind, but they cannot be felt by anyone who is not of the same affinity as we are. In essence, your secret is safe, with me."
"You'll forgive me if I'm not so eager to trust in your words."
"Then trust in the oath, if nothing else. I mean no harm, of any sorts, to you. On the contrary, it is quite pleasant to meet another, even if it is one so young, person with the same leanings as myself. I'd like to ask one question though before we talk further of this, and I would appreciate honesty from you."
He mulled it over in his head for a few minutes, risks and gains, oaths of secrecy and all, before nodding at her.
"Where were you on the eve of the 31st of July?"
"Outside," he gave her a reply, all smile, no warmth.
Moon rolled her eyes at him. "Come now, Potter, a bit more specific if you would."
"I don't know," he grudgingly admitted the truth. And it was the truth, for Yvanna never told neither Luna nor him where they had gone that evening. She had told him the day after that these locations were always kept secret and secluded, so that the Ministry couldn't interfere and so that no one might wander near by accident.
"Hmmm," Moon appeared lost in a thought for a moment before she said, "So it was your first Lughnasadh after all. I was not sure if it was you, I had seen just seen you in a brief passing; after all, one doesn't exactly pay much attention to the other attendants at these gatherings, there are far more important matters to be observed. You did not stay the night, I presume?"
"No."
"You would have enjoyed it, I believe, had you stayed. It was most... invigorating. Oh do stop glaring at me like that, Potter. I won't be spreading word about your whereabouts on that night, much less about your affinity. Even without the oath, this is far too important to be used as leverage over you, not that I would do so in any case. And didn't I just tell you that I myself was there as well and that I am alike you? That should calm your cautionary nature somewhat."
'Godsblood,' he cursed internally. Why did this have to happen to him? He merely wanted to strike a bargain for a few books, not discuss his affinity or talk about the very first night he had participated in a Lunghnasadh gathering.
"What do you want?"
"Isn't that how we started this whole thing, Potter?" Moon smiled at him, resting her chin in her propped up hand, looking at him rather intently. "What I want.. ah, I doubt you could fulfill my every desire." The look that followed after she said 'desire' almost made him squirm underneath her gaze, and his skin crawled with goosebumps. "What I want from you is rather simple. What I want is for you to tell me, sincerely, what sort of books were you hoping for me to pick up from the library."
Again, he fell into a short contemplation on how to proceed. In the end, he could only speak the truth. "I require... a few books, possibly more, about..." he nearly spoke through clenched teeth, unused to being this direct with another Slytherin, "Rituals and Dark magic." He let out a breath he had been holding in for some time now without even noticing. "I don't have any titles or names of the books to point you towards exactly what I want, so I must rely on your knowledge of the Restricted Section."
Moon tapped a finger against her cheek, still staring at him with intensity. "A bit more specific, Potter, if you would. What sort of Dark magic are we talking about? There is more than one tome which talks about it. Are we talking about curses?"
Hadrian shook his head sharply, "No, not at all. Just spells. Just Dark magic. Not all of it is curses, I know that much, not all of it causes harm. Charms, wards, transformation, transfiguration... there is that and many more branches of magic which have been cut off from what we are taught. Simply put, I want a book that talks of Dark magic. It need not be a book that teaches spells, I require different readings about it, and I trust that Hogwarts, with its thousand-year old existence, has more than a few books which offer an unbiased view on it."
Mellisa Moon smiled at him, for once absent of the predatory aspect, it almost seemed... friendly?
"Good, that much I can do. I can take up to five books from the Restricted Section, but it would be best if I only took three, to avoid any possible inquiry." Her brow furrowed in thoughtfulness. "What about the rituals-related books? You do understand these are closely monitored, even if they may not appear as such, by the Hogwarts staff. I would need to present a valid reason why I would be pulling out a book on Dark rituals."
Once more, he shook his head. "I do not require specifically Dark rituals. Any would do. I know that the regular parts of the library are suspiciously absent of all such material, except ones that talk about it in the vaguest of details, therefore they must have been either completely removed or just placed into the Restricted Section."
"What sort of rituals are you looking for then?" Moon asked and then added after seeing his reluctance to answer the question, even after he had spoken so much already of his part for the bargain. "I don't ask to pass judgement or anything of the sort, and need I point out yet again that there is an oath which insures my silence? I simply need to be pointed in the right direction. There are many, many rituals, and even more books which talk of them."
Hadrian nodded, seeing her point. "I require books on magical contracts, binding of one's magic, and on how to break or at least find a loophole through either of them. And I would like, if possible but it is not a necessity, a book on rituals for the few special days of the year."
Now that had intrigued Moon rather deeply, yet she kept her silence. There would be time to find more about Hadrian Potter's reasons for seeking out these books. "Hmm, I think I could find the required books for all of that. Now then, shall we talk about my wants?"
"By all means," Hadrian said confidently, though anxiety coursed through him. What he asked from Moon was not a small matter, and he doubted she would be humble in her part of the bargain. Equal gain, at the very least, is what she would pursue.
"Two days from now, on Sunday, you will go to the Quidditch pitch and try out for the team. Terrence Higgs has been thinking of switching to a Chaser position, so you could easily slide in as a Seeker, should you prove to have sufficient talent. Mind you, Flint will run you ragged with exercises, even if you are just a Seeker. He likes to build up his team's endurance and stamina through what many consider borderline physical torture."
"From where could I acquire a broom? I have none of my own, and I would prefer to avoid the school-issued ones. They seem a bit outdated."
"Owl-order one tomorrow, early in the morning. There's a shop in Diagon which should be able to respond to your order, at the earliest, in the same day, or Sunday morning at latest. Here," Moon used her wand and conjured a piece of paper before she wrote something out on it with a conjured quill, and sent it flying to Hadrian, "Write this down or memorize it before it vanishes, that's the name of the shop you'll be sending your owl-order to. I suggest acquiring at least the latest Cleansweep."
Hadrian summoned a piece of unused parchment and a quill from his desk, wrote down the address and vanished the conjured paper Moon gave to him, before folding his own and placing it in his pocket. "Is that all then you require of me?" Hadrian asked, knowing it was far from it.
"Far from it, Potter," Moon echoed his thoughts unknowingly and the smile on her face grew wider.