Want to join me at the library? Asher showed the note to Millicent and smiled a hopeful smile.

She scrunched up her nose, "The library? On a Saturday?"

Asher shrugged.

"Aren't you ahead in every single class? What do you need the library for?"

Not really studying for class.

"Then, why?"

The joy of learning, Asher wrote with a smirk. He might look up some things about magic, too. But mostly he was still searching for information about Radcliffe.

Millicent narrowed her eyes, "Is it to see her?"

Asher glared back at her. He knew who she meant. I don't know if H is going to be there.

"She's always there. That's it, isn't it? You want to see the Gryffindor."

His anger flared and he wished he could hit her with a curse that would stun her until she could see that she was being stupid. She is a friend. If she's there I'll probably join her.

"I knew it," Millicent growled.

I asked you to join me first.

Millicent did not say anything right away. Most of the tension left her face, but the vein in the center of her forehead was still more prominent than it had been two minutes ago.

Why do you not want me to be friends with her?

"Because it's dangerous, Asher!" Millicent's arms flailed out to her side in exasperation. "Gryffindors and Slytherins are not friends. It never ends well."

H is not going to hurt me.

"No, maybe not. But what about the other Gryffindors?"

I can take care of myself.

"You can't, Asher. Don't you see? They can do things you can't yet."

Don't punch a girl, don't punch a girl, Asher thought over and over again. Her point may have had some validity, but he did not want to see it that way. To him, it felt like she was underestimating him. Just like Dumbledore and maybe Snape. It wasn't fair.

He shoved his notepad into his pocket and stormed off. He had not wanted to start the morning off with a fight. He had no intention of upsetting Millicent, but he couldn't understand why everyone was so against him and Hermione being friends. And more importantly, why Millicent, who he thought of as his closest friend, couldn't accept it.

A hand grabbed his arm and he spun around. Millicent looked up at him, not at all softened by his leaving. "Stop being a prat, Asher!"

He pointed at her and then brought his fingers down to touch his thumbs, closing the mouths of invisible puppets. Then he pointed at her again. 'You stop, you.' He added and angry expression to his face (which was likely already there) to drive home the point.

"I should stop?" Millicent's eyebrows raised in shock. "I am trying to protect you!"

He pushed a hand, fingers splayed, downwards from his chest and outwards and shook his head. 'No need.'

Millicent bared her teeth. "I don't know what that means!"

Asher's anger only grew. It wasn't fair, really. Millicent had just started learning BSL. There were bound to be many signs she didn't know. But right now Asher was not feeling very patient. He was upset that his friend was angry at him for something so stupid. And he was too stubborn to let go of his anger first.

He threw both hands up, palms facing the sky, as if they had been holding fistfuls of confetti and he was now tossing it into the air. The sign meant 'I give up'. He stalked towards the door, determined not to be caught again.

Millicent screamed after him, but besides annoying the other Slytherins in the common room, it did no good. Asher would never hear her insults. Nor would he hear her try to convince him to stay.

She would spend the rest of the day growling at anyone who got too close to her. Because whether she liked to admit it or not, the tall, black haired boy meant something to her. And she was annoyed with herself at her own short temper almost as much as she was annoyed with his.

XXXXX

Asher headed to the podium at the center of the library without checking to see if Hermione was there. He was still feeling angry and did not want to interact with anyone at the moment.

He wrote Luxembourg quidditch, hoping to find more information on the national quidditch team. There were twenty books on the list that featured the topic 'Luxembourg Quidditch'. He then searched for Bigonville Bombers. That search produced fifteen books on the topic. Finally, he tried Luxembourg directory. This search came back with no hits.

He walked slowly towards the back of the library, not realizing that he was heading towards his usual table- the table that usually attracted Hermione. He stared at the lists in his hands and mentally checked off the books that would not apply to his search, such as Early Quidditch History and The Establishment of The European League. He sat without noticing the girl with brown, bushy hair on the opposite side of the table.

Hermione waited until Asher looked up and then smiled and said, "Hi, Asher!"

Asher grinned, his thoughts distracted enough from his earlier anger to allow him to enjoy this moment. He waved to her, noticing that she was wearing her robes, something that most students avoided on weekends.

"You look like you've found some good books," she said.

Some might help.

Hermione read his note and then peeked at the lists on the table in front of Asher. "Still on the quidditch girl, are you?"

I want to find her. I want to write to her.

"Oh, Asher, that's a brilliant idea! She might be able to tell you how she learned to fly!" Hermione's face lit up on the promise of learning new information.

Asher nodded. He certainly hoped so. If she was still alive, that is. But she couldn't be that old. She must still be around. How he was supposed to find the witch from Luxembourg, he had no idea.

He spent a few minutes narrowing down his list and then another twenty minutes collecting half a dozen books from around the library. He returned to the table and paged through each one.

When the sixth book closed with a heavy thud, Hermione looked up. "No luck?"

Asher sighed and shook his head. Not even a little bit. Sure, the book The Bigonville Bombers; A Team Without Limits had some interesting tidbits, but not what he wanted to find. There was no mention of his hero beater by name, though her contributions were mentioned in detail. And he was no closer to discovering where he might find her now.

"I don't think you'll have much luck here."

Asher tilted his head slightly to the side.

"I mean, you did a search on her name already, right?"

Asher nodded.

"Then her name isn't in any of these other books," Hermione waved her hand towards the vast library around them.

Asher could have kicked himself. Of course, Hermione was right. There would be no other mention of Cassidy Radcliffe by name if the book was not listed in his original search.

"But I wonder if Madame Pince could find a book for you elsewhere. Maybe there is a wizarding directory in Luxembourg that she could get for you. There are probably more books in that country about her, since that's where she's from. Let's go ask her!" Hermione was out of her seat before she finished talking. She grabbed Asher's forearm and pulled him up and towards the librarian's desk.

Madame Pince was a thin woman with a look like one who would rather replace the entire world's population with a single good book. Her eyes were sharp and almost beady behind her glasses. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and Asher wondered if she and McGonagall studied the hairstyle together.

Hermione spoke to the woman while Asher paid little attention. From their positioning, Asher had a hard time seeing both faces and since Hermione was as determined as he was now, he did not see the need to monitor the conversation closely.

Instead, he thought about what he might say to Cassidy if they found her. He didn't want to come off as some kind of fanboy, but that's a little like how he felt. She would help him, wouldn't she?

When Hermione grabbed and squeezed his hand, he brought his attention back to the people in front of him. She grinned broadly, "She's going to check, Asher! She's going to find some books for us!"

That earned a sharp look of reproach from the librarian and a quick apology from Hermione. The two students went back to their table together and Hermione began working on her Potions essay again.

Asher wrote a quick note and slid it under Hermione's nose, which was half a quill length away from her parchment. She jerked her head upwards and read the note.

I finished mine last night. Need any help?

She shook her head at first but then stopped. "Actually, I can't understand why we can't add these ingredients at the same time. It would save so much extra stirring and work if we could. But I can't find anything in the book about it."

Asher smiled, he had asked the same question. Snape had pointed him to page 423, which was further towards the end of the book than what they were currently studying. On page 423, he had read that while the two ingredients were not dangerous to mix together, they did not complement each other well. Adding them simultaneously would reduce the effect of each on the potion, rendering it less potent.

He pointed Hermione to the page and let her discover the information for herself. She quickly finished her essay while Asher paged through Quidditch World Cups to Remember. He was interested in the sport now that he felt a connection to it. And the reading was fascinating.

"—you know?"

Asher glanced up just in time to catch the end of a question from Hermione. He looked at her, confused. Say it again, I missed that.

"How did you know where to find that? I swear I read all the assigned readings, but I haven't looked so far in the book."

I had some help too, he wrote. He wasn't sure if getting help from the professor would seem like cheating, so he left that part off.

"What, is there some kind of Slytherin study group?" Her face showed that she expected this to be a joke.

There is. Three days a week.

"You're kidding," she said, her face suddenly serious.

Asher shook his head.

Her shoulders slumped. "I wish we did that."

You don't?

"No. If you want to study in Gryffindor, you need to do it on your own. A lot of people study in the common room, but there's a lot going on in the common room that isn't studying. And if you want to study in quiet, you need to come here."

Oh, Asher thought. That was not ideal. He was once again glad that he ended up in Slytherin and not in one of the other houses.

XXXXX

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his large desk, feeling pleased with himself. Severus was on his way up and he was sure to bring good news. And then, finally, this anti-healer nonsense would be behind him.

Severus knocked with two firm raps on the door and Albus bid him enter. The Potions Master walked in and strode to the chair across from the one Albus occupied.

"You spoke to the boy, I assume?" Albus asked, his eyes twinkling as he anticipated the good news.

"I did," Severus responded with a curt nod.

"And what did he say?"

"He listened, which is what I asked of him."

Albus felt a little wind leave his wings. "But you told him what we could do?"

Another nod. Not even a twitch of the lips in the form of a smile from the man.

"And he understood?"

"Yes, he did," Severus' voice was firm and confident. That made Albus feel better.

"And did he give you his answer?"

Severus sighed, "I believe he gave you his answer several times already."

All the wind was gone. Albus felt like he was free-falling off a cliff. "He still refuses?" He asked, his voice and face both dark.

"The choice is his, Albus."

"It is the wrong choice," Albus said, glaring at Severus. He should have suspected that the head of Slytherin would twist his request like this. "Did you even try to convince him?"

"Why should I have?" Severus looked sharply at him. "I have told you before, Albus, I think it is in the child's best interest to learn to use his magic without changing who he is."

"I am not changing who he is, I am giving him what was taken from him!" He leaned forward over the desk, making himself look larger. He did not recognize his stance as aggressive.

After years of being looked at as the light of the wizarding world, Albus- despite his initial reservations- found himself quite comfortable in the position. If the people of the magical world needed a guide to bring them through these tough times, Albus would step up and lead. And if that meant ordering people's lives with or without their knowledge or consent, so be it. It's all for the greater good, is it not?

"If the healers allow him to hear, he will not be immediately able to use that hearing. It would take time for him to learn to hear and understand."

Albus leaned back in his chair, not wanting to listen to this argument again.

"He would be better served if he learns to wield his magic as he is now."

"And if he can't?" Albus asked, his face stormy with anger. "If he fails to learn to control it, will you be the one to manage the fallout?"

"He is not in danger of this, Albus."

The headmaster scoffed.

"He is a bright boy and he is learning. His mental strength is far beyond what I anticipated. He and I have had several conversations through legilimency."

This surprised Albus and his face showed it. Is it possible that Severus was right all along? He quickly reigned in his emotions, "Were you in his head each time?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then he was not the one using legilimency," disappointment colored his words.

Severus had a hard time imagining a scenario where any eleven-year-old child would be capable of performing legilimency. And Albus was discouraged that this one, who could project thoughts, could not forcefully enter another's mind. "To telegraph his thoughts the way he does requires some strength of mind. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, the boy is starting to hide thoughts from me."

Albus sighed. He felt old. Really old. His bones ached and his mind felt tired. His voice softened, "I worry, Severus."

"There is no need, Albus. The boy is not a threat. I will help him learn at his pace and on his terms."

"Can you promise that?"

"The boy is no more a threat than any other underage student we house here." Honestly, it was a wonder there weren't magical accidents happening in Hogwarts more often. There were accidents, of course. More in the beginning of the year with the influx of brand-new witches and wizards, but they always happened. Albus knew this.

What Severus did not understand was why the Headmaster was so concerned about this one student.

"I hope you are right, Severus."