A/N: I apologize for missing the last few updates. I've been having problems with writer's block lately, and I wanted to make sure I had enough chapters pre-written to last me until the end of the summer.

We've moved on from reading tea leaves to reading palms. I'm glad. I'm not sure how much more of Professor Trelawney's tea I can drink.

I join Chiara and Jae at the table meant for two. We've gotten used to being cramped together. I flip open Unfogging the Future to the correct page.

Chiara holds out her hand for Jae to examine. We switch directions every class, so sometimes I do her readings and sometimes she does mine.

"Your hand is clammy," Jae says. He flips to the start of the palmistry chapter. "That means you have a 'water hand', so you're in tune with your emotions, intuition, and psychic ability. You're creative, but also very sensitive, which causes you a lot of interpersonal stress."

So far, this fits with the impression I've gotten of Chiara.

"And I'm supposed to see bumps on your hands that look like planets?" Jae frowns down at her hand as he moves on to the next step. "Wait, maybe this is one...no." He looks down at the diagram on the page, then back at her hand, trying to match up drawing and flesh. "Can I skip this part?"

Neither of us responds. Jae takes that as an affirmative and turns the page. "Your head line is wavy, which means you're a progressive thinker. Your life line is short, so others haven't had much of an impact on your life."

I was surprised to learn that the length of the life line doesn't actually predict the length of your life. Instead, the life line represents a person's experiences.

"Your sun line and fate line are parallel to each other, which means that you'll succeed due to outside factors," Jae finishes. "I'm glad that's done. Your turn, Celena. Let's see what a couple of lines on your hand have to say about your future."

I hold my hand out to Chiara. She grips it with fingers that are pale and cold. As she moves down the page, she lightly taps each feature she names.

"You have a long palm and short fingers, which means you have a fire hand. That means you're passionate, confident, and industrious. You're driven by your desires. On a bad day, you may lack empathy or tact."

I'm definitely driven by my desires, but… confident? I'm confident in my academic ability, or my ability to beat Merula in another duel if I have to, but when it comes to relationships, I couldn't be more uncertain. I'm always afraid I'm not good enough, that I'm going to let someone down when they need me.

I tune back in to Chiara's voice, realizing that I've missed part of what she's saying. "Your Mount of Saturn is high, which means you have integrity and a deep understanding of the ups and downs of life."

Integrity means doing the right thing even when there's no one to see. It's the sort of thing that shouldn't need to be taught, and yet it does.

Once again, I draw myself out of my musings and focus on what Chiara is saying. Her finger touches the area below my pinky. "This is the mount of Mercury, which means you have a strategic and resourceful mind."

Her fingers trace the lines on my palm. "There are breaks in your head line, which either means mental strife or epiphanies. You have a long life line, so others will have a great impact on your life. Your sun and fate lines intersect, so you became famous as a result of the actions of others."

Jacob… I think with a sigh. If he hadn't gone missing, would I have gone into the first vault and fought the ice knight? Would I be looking for the second vault, the one the boggarts seem to be coming from?

Now that our palm readings are done, I find a piece of parchment and a quill. I sketch a rough impression of a palm and start labeling it. Heart line, life line, fate line…

When the period ends, I shove everything in my bag and look for Chiara. I spot her silver hair disappearing down the ladder. She moves fast.

I follow Jae to History of Magic. Charlie and Tulip join us at the table in the back. We've been playing Exploding Snap every class. Professor Binns either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

Rowan, however, is a different story. She looks at us with an annoyed expression, her textbook open on her lap. Suddenly, she stands, holding up her book.

"I'm taking over for Professor Binns," she announces, walking to the front of the classroom.

This surprises everyone enough to make them look up from their games. Jae stops setting out the Exploding Snap cards. I watch Professor Binns, who has already begun his lecture. How much will he let us get away with? First people slept through his lectures, then we started playing games, and now Rowan is doing his job for him.

"Today we're learning about the goblin rebellions," Rowan starts. "These occurred in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The goblins were furious with how wizards treated them. Goblins were not allowed to carry wands, and were banned from the Conference of Lichtenburg in 1649, which decided their rights."

I look around the room. Nearly everyone is watching Rowan. It's the most engagement a history lecture has ever gotten. I smile proudly. Rowan wants to be the youngest professor in the history of Hogwarts. I'd say she's found her subject.


I carry a letter up to the Owlery. I wrote to my parents to ask if Rowan could visit for Christmas. For the past two years, I've gone to the Khannas tree farm. It's time Rowan saw my home.

It's been two weeks since our first Hogsmeade trip, and Madam Rosmerta hasn't sent Jacob's quill yet. Maybe she forgot about it. I can ask again during our next visit.

I tie my letter to the leg of one of the school owls. Maybe I should consider getting an owl of my own.

I watch the owl fly away and turn to leave. With my thoughts still on the mysterious quill, I don't notice Barnaby until I walk into him.

"Sorry," I say. Automatically, I look for Merula and Ismelda. There's no sign of them.

I step to the side to let Barnaby pass, but he doesn't move. He's blocking my way again.

"Merula told me to spy on you," he says.

I frown. "Isn't the most important part of being a spy not telling your target that you're a spy?"

Barnaby shrugs. "Is it? I don't know much about being a spy."

"The whole idea is that your spying is a secret," I explain.

Barnaby screws up his face as he considers this. "Merula says you're mad and evil," he says. "But you seem quite nice."

"Merula's the mean one," I say. "Why do you work for her? Why don't you let me help you instead?"

Barnaby actually appears to consider my offer for a moment. "My parents told me to be friends with Merula and Ismelda. I don't have a choice."

"Why would you let your parents pick your friends for you?" He lets his parents control his life, he lets Merula boss him around… does he make any decisions by himself?

"I try not to make any decisions," Barnaby says. "I let smarter people choose for me, so if they mess up, they're the ones to blame."

This actually makes a twisted sort of sense. "Not choosing is still a choice," I say, but I can tell from the befuddled look in his eyes that I'm getting too philosophical for him again. I try explaining again. "Look, Barnaby, your parents are Death Eaters, right?"

"Yeah." Barnaby nods, his eyebrows still drawn together in an expression of confusion.

"So have you ever considered that maybe they aren't making the best decisions for you?"

Barnaby moves away from the door, an expression of deep concentration on his face. I brush past him, leaving him to ponder my words. He might be a decent person, if only he would learn to think for himself.


Rowan bounces up from her chair near the entrance to the common room and grabs my arm. She pulls me upstairs. She's practically skipping. Either Dumbledore just promised to give her a job when she graduates, or Madam Rosmerta finally found the notebook. Judging by the unopened package in the hand that isn't gripping my arm, it's the latter.

"This came while you were away," she says, handing me the package. I sit down on my bed. Rowan plops onto hers, "And," she continues breathlessly, "Dumbledore's gone, and I overheard McGonagall telling Flitwick that he's looking for a professional Curse-Breaker, so they can help find your brother. And Bill wants to be a Curse-Breaker, so maybe they can help him too."

My reaction to Rowan's news is mixed. I'm happy to hear that Dumbledore is finally doing something about the vaults, after everyone suffered from his inactivity last year. But on the other hand, can I trust this mysterious Curse-Breaker? So far, adults have done nothing to find Jacob. What if the Curse-Breaker tries to stop me from looking for him? I hope Dumbledore is searching for an ally, and not placing another obstacle in my path.

"How long do you think he'll be gone for?" I ask. There's no use stressing about the Curse-Breaker now. I'll find out what side they're on if and when they come.

Rowan shrugs. "I don't know. They could be anywhere in the world." She points to the envelope in my hands. "Now, are you going to open that, or should I do it for you?"

With a small smile, I tear open the envelope and reach inside. First, I pull out the letter. Rowan is dying to know about the quill. She fidgets impatiently as I scan the letter.

Dear Celena, the letter reads.

I found your brother's quill. It had fallen behind a shelf in the storeroom, so it took me quite some time to find it. I'm not sure why you want it so badly, as it's just a ratty quill. There is nothing special about it, as far as I can tell. Of course, as his sister, you knew Jacob better than I did.

Madam Rosmerta.

I feel a familiar spark of anger at seeing her refer to Jacob in past tense. My fingernails dig into my palms, leaving faint crescent-shaped marks. "He's not dead," I whisper.

I set the letter aside. Madam Rosmerta is doing the best she can. If I corrected everyone who said something wrong about Jacob, I wouldn't have time for anything else.

I remove the quill from the envelope and cast the torn parchment aside. With one hand, I fumble for my wand.

Rowan's impatience peaks. She finds her own wand before I do. "Reparifarge," she says, aiming her wand at the quill in my hand.

The quill transforms into a leather-bound notebook, identical to the one from the Cursed Vault. Rowan snatches it from my hand, perusing it excitedly. After a moment, her face falls. "It's written in code," she says. "I can translate it, but it will take some time."

I take the book back from her. The pages are filled with lines of odd, spiky shapes. "Are these the same runes we're learning about?" I ask.

Rowan shakes her head before I've even finished my sentence. "No, but they're similar. I think they might be an even older form. I'll do some research."

"Do you want help?" I ask.

Rowan shakes her head again. "No. I can do it," she assures me. "You focus on finding the next vault. Oh, and Bill wants you to meet him on the Training Grounds tomorrow. He said he wants to teach you a new spell."

"All right," I say. Rowan bounces up from her bed. "Where are you going?"

"To start decoding this," she says, holding up Jacob's journal. Suddenly she pauses. "Unless your brother's disembodied voice would like to give us a hint?"

Very old. I can't remember, Jacob volunteers. From the other side of a canyon. Does it matter?

I relay his words to Rowan, who looks perplexed. "'From the other side of a canyon"," she repeats. "There was a small magical settlement near Corrieshalloch, but I don't remember anything about them having their own runic language. I'll see what I can find…"

This time, Rowan actually does leave, presumably heading for the library. I think about Jacob's words. Why did he ask if his answer mattered? Before, he's always seemed desperate to be found, but now… now he's slipping away.