She stood there petrified in the long hallway, watching, not wanting the slightest of movements to give away her presence. But it seemed that Lasgalen would not notice her, no matter if she moved. He stood in front of the window, his long fingers fumbling desperately with the latch, shaking too much for him to even get a solid grip on the metal piece.

She had never seen anyone look so frightened, so terrified. But of what? He was visibly trembling, his breathing coming out in panicked gasps of air as his hands continued their futile fight with the unyielding latch, his right hand resourcing to hitting the crystal as if trying to push it open by force. And she didn't know whether it was her sudden fear that someone would hear the noise and get them in trouble for being out of bed this late at night, or the sheer fear that she saw consuming his ice colored eyes what finally made her move.

"Here." She heard her voice before she realized she had spoken, the thick invisibility cloak sliding from over her head and landing deafly on the cold stone floor. His head snapped in her direction, eyes widening in surprise at her sudden appearance, a look that was quickly replaced as she let her own steady fingers open the window latch in a single deft move.

Not even a second after, his pale hands were pushing the crystals wide open, making her jump back immediately as the pourring rain suddenly splashed into the hallway, quickly making a puddle at their feet. But Thranduil did not seem to care, instead leaning heavily over the wooden windowsill, his eyes suddenly closed as he took desperate, shaky gulps of air, the heavy raindrops sliding down his chiseled cheeks and dancing down his loose strand of silver hair. What could have possibly render anyone this scared? This shaken?

Sigrid swallowed dryly, her mind spinning with thousands of unvoiced questions as she silently made her way to the twins' invisibility cloak laid forgotten on the floor, letting herself sit down next to it, her back against the hallway's cold wall. She didn't know how long she sat there, but for some reason she did not want to leave, watching as the puddle in the floor grew larger and larger, Lasgalen's long hair now dripping wet directly across from her. At last he seemed to be regaining his breath, as if the freezing smashing raindrops were slowly calming him down. But why had he been so desperate to let the rain in? So desperate to open that window? She herself had been trying to escape from those drops of icy water that were now slowly creeping their way over the stone floor to her feet, making her put her knees against her chest as she waited.

It seemed an eternity before Lasgalen moved. Slowly, very slowly he turned around, sliding down to sit on the floor across the hallway from her and underneath the still open window, the rain continuing to pour over him even as he sat there taking slow deep breaths. His eyes swept over hers, once again cold, impenetrable glaciers, hard and unwelcoming yet stunning, piercing through hers like darts for a split of a second before looking down to his shaking hands, not turning to look back at her again. She felt as if she was in the Hospital Wing all over again, watching something she was not supposed to, and having his burning eyes grill her for it. She let out a silent breath, her hands slowly folding the thick elegant cloak before starting to rise from the floor.

"Don't go." His words stopped her in her tracks, eyes not even turning back up as he spoke, his voice steady yet threaded with the unmistakable fear she had seen in his eyes moments ago. And she didn't know why, but that was enough for her to not argue, slowly sitting back down against the wall as she laid the cloak neatly folded over her lap. He did not seem to particularly want her company, but it seemed clear that he would rather not be left alone.

Silence danced hollowly between the two of them to the chorus of a thousand raindrops, the wind every now and then smacking the crystals of the window against each other in a tinkling melody.

"What were you doing out in the hallways?" He broke the silence, ice blue eyes turning once more to look at hers and even though she wanted nothing more than ask him the same question, she guessed that was not the direction in which he intended this conversation to go. She could see that his hands where still trembling, although less noticeably now, but whatever it was that had scared him still had him shaken.

"Could not sleep." She shrugged, but that seemed to be enough of a response for him for he just nodded his head in reply.

"Is the cloak yours?" He asked, pointing at the folded garment on her lap with his eyes.

"It's the twins', I borrowed it some time ago but haven't returned it yet." She was slightly confused by his sudden interest in small talk, but if sitting in the hallway talking about nothing was somehow helping him, she would play along.

"The twins? The Peredhel twins?"

"Yes" She added, once again remembering that they were in completely different houses and not necessarily knew or were friends with the same people. "They are in our potions class, I'm sure you've-

"Yes, I know them." He cut her short, but not harshly. "That they own an invisibility cloak explains a lot."

She let out a small chuckle at that, it seemed that no matter the house, Elladan and Elrohir's mischief was well known all over the school. "Yes it certainly does."

"Would you not rather move to somewhere dry?" She asked, unable to contain herself as she noticed that he was now completely drenched, the rain still pouring freely inside the castle.

"No." He said shortly, and it was the sharp look inside his deep ice blue eyes that made her decide against arguing further.

"Ok" She nodded as silence settled again. Even if she would rather not to, she could handle getting a little wet, but it seemed that at this moment he would not handle moving from where he sat. What had frightened him so?

"Are you alright?" She finally asked, letting her eyes study him carefully. For a moment he only stared at her in return, suddenly wary, as if trying to predict if she would ask more detailed questions if he answered.

"Yes" He did not elaborate, his voice sounding convincing but she did not believe him. This was all too familiar to her, this small talk that he seemed perfectly comfortable with carrying and the sudden coldness and wariness that would build around him like an impenetrable wall when asked a question of a more personal nature. But this time she did not push it. Instead she shifted the conversation to a light topic once more, which seemed to be at least helping him slowly calm down.

"When's your next Quidditch match?" Really? Was that the best she could think of? But then again it seemed that pointless questions like this was the kind of conversation he was looking for.

"Not sure." He furrowed his brow as if trying to recall a specific date. "Two weeks? Three weeks?"

"Are you not supposed to know that for sure?" She laughed lightly at the absurdity of it. He was the team's captain was he not?

"I should know, actually." He looked slightly confused now, and slightly embarrassed about it, an expression that she had to admit looked adorable in his usually cold and distant face, only making her laugh once more before gaining a glare in return.

"Don't let your teammates know that their captain doesn't know when they are playing next." She could not hold herself back from continuing to mock him and surprisingly, against any reaction she had expected, he laughed. It was a sound she had not expected to hear from such an ice-cold person. Strangely, he did not seem so cold now, even if he still felt distant.

"Do you know when the next game is?" Thranduil narrowed his eyes at her, but she just shook her head in reply.

"Not a clue. I don't particularly like Quidditch." She shrugged. Oh Eowyn would have a heart attack if she could hear her right now.

"Now you are offending me, Bowman" He added, a half smirk curving up in his marble face. "Why would you not like Quidditch?"

"I don't like flying." She was quick to answer, his eyes suddenly looking at her as if she had confessed to having broken into Gringotts and stolen all the gold from every single vault, making her feel the urge to defend her statement. "I like my feet on the ground, where the fall cannot kill me."

"You are being serious?" He was judging her now, oh she could tell.

"Incredibly serious. I don't like flying, I don't like the idea of flying. I've only tried it once for flying class and dropped the class after the first day." Only thinking of looking at the objects all tiny many many meters below her feet made chills travel down her spine.

"You've only flown once? " He was looking at her intently now, as if he could simply not fathom how what she was saying could be true. Well, even if he was completely judging her the conversation seemed to have at least distracted him enough to forget about whatever had him so deadly scared before.

"Yes. Once. And I have no interest in trying it again." She clarified. He continued to look at her as if she was the strangest thing he had seen in his life.

"You are ridiculous." He concluded, shaking his head lightly and making a few raindrops splattered from his dripping silver hair.

She shrugged once more before speaking. "I am not the one sitting under the freezing rain getting drenched unnecessarily."

He chuckled lightly, to her surprise standing up and gently closing the window shut once more before sitting down again, the hallway suddenly quieter now that the rain could no longer drum on the already flooded hallway.

"You are still ridiculous." He added, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the windowsill.

"Well some people like flying and others don't." She continued. "I know Tilda likes flying, but she's not very good at it."

"Tilda? You sister?" He opened one of his eyes to look at her, watching her nod her head. "She's the sane one, then."

She silently cursed that he had his eyes closed once more for he could not see the death glare she was throwing him right at the moment. Instead she remained silent once more, not really feeling like trying to make more small talk, watching as he just sat there, her fingers tracing endless patterns on the folded cloak at her lap.

And it was then when she heard it. Footsteps approaching down the hallway. Her heart flipped inside her chest as she started to quickly get up, but it was too late for at that second none other than Professor McGonagall rounded the corner, eyes widening slightly as she caught sight of them. Oh, she was dead. There was no way McGonagall would let them go without detention. A quick glance to her side let her know that Lasgalen too had heard the approaching footsteps for he was also once again on his feet, suddenly looking completely composed.

"Merlin!" McGonagall exclaimed as she hurried towards them, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes scrutinizing them head to toe in a manner that made Sigrid suddenly feel like a guilty toddler being reprimanded by a parent.

"What do you both think you are doing? Out of bed at this hour!" McGonagall spoke, even though her narrowed, disappointed eyes kept looking at her only, as if Thranduil did not merit the reprimand.

"Lasgalen, you come here before you freeze." The professor snapped, one hand impatiently motioning for the soaking wet Slythering to approach, face stern, leaving no space for argument. She watched as Thranduil obeyed almost immediately, McGonagall giving a quick flick of her wand that left the student completely dry, even if the latter did not seem too happy about it.

"Both of you, follow me." McGonagall added, not waiting before turning around and marching down the hallway, both students following at her heels. Sigrid's heart felt as if it wanted to jump out of her chest as they silently walked down the long deserted hallways and up many stairs. Just what she had been trying to avoid. Getting caught. And now here she was, following McGonagall most probably to her office and most certainly on her way to receiving a tedious and long detention.

They walked for what felt like ages, the castle never before having felt as large and empty as it did at that moment. Finally, they stopped in front of a very familiar winged statue, her heart once again giving another flip and her face paling as she realized where they were being taken.

"Pumpkin Cauldrons." McGonagall voiced echoed on the stone, the statue suddenly moving away as a staircase started to spiral up and up until she lost sight of the first few risers.

"Professor Dumbledore will see to you. And after that I would recommend going directly to breakfast, as if appears you have stayed the entire night chatting out in the hallway. And you have both lost twenty points from your respective houses." McGonagall's voice dripped with ice, thin eyebrows high on her forehead as she gave them another reproachful look, motioning with her hand for them to climb the stairs.

And they did not wait to be told twice, both of them immediately climbing up the spiraling steps, up and up and up, until they reached the familiar rounded small vestibule where her eyes could do nothing that stare at the large majestic wooden door ahead. Lasgalen was the one to knock, for it seemed that the Gryffindor, ironically, had lost all of her courage.

"Enter" The voice echoed from the other side of the large door, Thranduil pushing it open slowly, both of them tentatively walking into the ample round room that comprised Dumbledore's office.

In her four years at Hogwarts, Sigrid had been there only once, and the room greeted her again as if she had never seen it before, fascinating, crowded with wall high overflowing bookcases and lighted with hundreds of flying candles. Professor Dumbledore sat at his large wooden desk, the surface covered with open books and folded parchments, an exquisite quill held elegantly in his long fingers, still scribbling something on a slightly curling page.

"Ah, Bowman, Lasgalen." The professor greeted them, his voice always gentle and welcoming, even as his blue eyes pierced them deeply behind his half-moon spectacles, and for a second she had the familiar feeling that he already knew exactly why they were there. Carefully, the headmaster put his quill aside, motioning with his hand for them to take the seats in front of him before folding both hands over the many parchments on the desk. And for a moment he just stared at them, looking closely from one to the other, eyes seeming to penetrate them completely, as if able to access the deepest parts of their minds.

"Apart from you both being out of bed at night, is there something else I should know?" He asked patiently, as if merely talking about the weather, and even though he directed the question to both of them his blue eyes stared only at Thranduil, looking at him deeply and for a second she wonder if there was something being silently said between his words.

"No, sir." Lasgalen's face remained as composed and expressionless as ever, but it seemed that the headmaster accepted that as an answer with a small nod of his head.

"Therefore I trust that I do not need to contact your father, Lasgalen?" Dumbledore added as patiently as before, yet his eyes continued to study the Slytherin deeply. Now there was definitely something being said in between words. She turned to look at Thranduil, trying in vain to read something in his face, but his expression remained as composed and blank as ever, a perfectly carved marble statue. Only Dumbledore seemed to be able to see through his mask.

"No, sir." Came the same answer, the headmaster once again nodding his head slowly in return.

"I trust that you would let know if something was….amiss?" Dumbledore's eyes bore through Lasgalen intensely now, and she was sure that had it been her she would have cracked under that stare. But what were they talking about?

"Yes, sir." Thranduil replied, face as still as before, not even moving an inch.

"Good." The headmaster smiled, the eyes once again soft as he leaned back on his chair. "I believe you both know that you have gained detention for being in the hallways at such late hour. You will report to Professor McGonagall on Friday after classes are over."

"Yer, sir." They replied in unison this time, Sigrid playing nervously with her hands on her lap. Detention. Great. Perfect. Wonderful.

"Very well, that being said, Bowman wait for me here while I escort Lasgalen back to the Slythering House." She nodded her head immediately, not trusting her voice to speak again as she silently watched both the headmaster and Thranduil rising to their feet and starting to walk out of the room. And yet, it was Lasgalen's pursed lips and hard eyes what let her know that the headmaster was not merely 'escorting' the student back to the Slytherin dungeon. Whatever it was it was clear that it was not for her to know. But that only made her all the more curious as she heard the door silently shutting close, leaving her alone in the midst of this splendid circular room. And why would Dumbledore need to contact Thranduil's father? He did not mention anything about contacting her father, so it could not have been to tell him about them meriting detention. It had to be something else, but what?

She felt restless, anxious, her mind going around in circles of questions for which she could find no answer, and before she knew it she found herself pacing the room impatiently, her hands inside the pockets of her school robes. She let her eyes wonder through the many books on the shelves, studying their titles, their shapes, their colors. She went shelf by shelf, trying to find the biggest book of the shelf and then the smallest, the one that looked the oldest and then the one that looked the newest. And it was then that she came across a book that had a very particular title at the very beginning of the next wall-long bookshelf. Except that it was not a book tile. It was a name. And it was not a book. It was a leather binder. She scanned around the other books in that area, and from floor to ceiling the wall was filled with the identical looking files, all with different names on them. These were not books. These were student files.

Her eyes threw a glance at the large wooden doors, confirming that it was still closed and that she was still alone before quickly looking for her name, finding it easily in between Tilda's and Bain's, not thinking it twice before pulling it out. And it was indeed student files what she had found. She let her eyes roam through the parchments neatly held inside, and everything was there. From all her information, birth date, birth place, parents, to her medical records, all the few injuries she had sustained inside and outside Hogwarts, to her grades in every class she had ever taken, and even every single detention she had ever received. Everything was there. And then, before she could stop herself, another thought crossed her mind, her hands quickly closing her file and placing it back on the shelf before scanning once again through the thousands of names, easily finding the file she was looking for.

Thranduil Lasgalen read in the same curly golden letters on the cover as she held the file in between her hands, fighting internally with herself. She wanted nothing more than to open it, nothing more than to finally find out why he was taking a fourth-year potions class when he should be taking the sixth-year class, or if it was indeed true that he was top of his class. But then again, there was the voice in her head that told her that she should not open the file, that whatever information it contained was not for her to see. She had no business in looking at it. But why was curiosity so hard to resist?

And she glanced once more at the door, the decision already made inside her head as her eyes suddenly fell upon the many parchments inside, dancing from left to right. Thranduil Oropher Lasgalen…..birth London, February 19, 1992… Everything was there as well….he had an Outstanding in nearly every single class, although there were a few marked as 'incomplete', a couple of detentions here and there but not too many…but it was not that what made her blood run cold in shock at what she found, suddenly wishing she had not opened the file at all.

Lasgalen's medical records had to be the thickest file she had ever seen, the parchment on the very top reading St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, admitted October 23 2007, discharged October 28, 2007, 'treatment'…. That had been only a few weeks ago, the week he missed after she had seen him in the Hospital Wing that night. And she continued to look, her eyes now darting from page after page….St. Mungo's, September 4, 2007 to September, 7…'treatment'….July 1 to July 15, 2007, 'treatment'….March 19 to March 25…'treatment'…St. Mungo's Hospital….'treatment'…..January 14 to January 17, 2007…'treatment'….

The words ran before her eyes, her hands shaking at what she was reading….there were two weeks on past December in St. Mungo's as well, and the whole month of August, then at least 18 times admitted the year before that, and a few more times the year before, and even more the previous one, then a few less the previous year …..'treatment'….'treatment'….St. Mungo's Hospital….April 9 to April 14, 2002…..There was not a single year that did not have at least 10 visits to St. Mungo's, and those visits seemed to grow more and more frequent as she went through the years, all of them labeled 'treatment', even though her own files were labeled with detail descriptions of every injury, here it didn't give a single detail….There were at least 50 visits in 1999, a few more in 1998, and the very last file read St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, admitted June 6, 1996, discharged December 22, 1997, 'treatment'…..behind that there was nothing, only the St. Mungo's certificate of birth. Her eyes stared at the dates again…. June 6, 1996 – December 22, 1997….nearly a year and a half. Whatever was the reason for the multiple hospital visits, it had not been there before June 6, 1996….doing the math Thranduil had been only four, there were no visits before that, then what had happened? What was happening?

Here's chapter 8! Let me know what you think!

Thank you so much Amsim and Rose61393 for reviewing! :) I'm so happy you enjoyed the last chapter!

Love,

Elena