By the time Hadrian returned to the Great Hall, the Slytherins were already on their way out. He elbowed his way through the crowd to get to Tracey, whose expression slid from worried to relieved to irritated.

"See? I told you it'd be fine," he said calmly as he fell in step with her. She scowled at him.

"Just because you got lucky doesn't mean you aren't an idiot," she grumbled, but Hadrian could tell she was too grateful he had returned unscathed to really be angry with him. He opened his mouth to reply when he heard someone clear their throat.

"Potter," Zabini asked, his voice low and his eyes ahead as the Slytherins descended the stairs into the dungeons, "This little… mishap doesn't derail our plans for tonight, does it? It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity over something that's been resolved."

Hadrian checked his watch. It was a few minutes past ten; they would still have plenty of time for the ritual. "The plan hasn't changed," he replied, his voice matching Zabini's low volume. "Same time, same place."

Zabini nodded with a quiet smile. "Excellent. I'll see you then, Potter." He drifted off into the throng of green, presumably to reassure Greengrass and the others of the news. Hadrian turned to look at Tracey.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" He asked quietly. Tracey gave him a small smile but shook her head.

"I want to do my first Old Rite ceremony with my mother. We're going to do one on the Summer Solstice. Besides, I don't want to be so… vulnerable in front of the others. Samhain is not a light-hearted ritual, and I don't have trust in or leverage over the others."

Hadrian nodded his understanding. While he had clearly cast his support in favour of Tracey, and would defend her against the rest of their housemates with little prompting, she was still reluctant to have anything to do with them.

When they arrived at the common room, the first years returned to their dorms to allow the rest of their house to disperse. Then slowly, one by one, they crept out of the dormitory and made their way to the dueling pit. Hadrian was the first of his yearmates to arrive, and he couldn't help gape slightly. The room had been completely transformed; the four walls had been covered with various runes in black paint, and a hexagon in the center of the floor contained similar symbols. Unlit black candles were placed at each point and Gemma Farley was kneeling in the center, her fingers black with paint and her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She looked up as the door creaked behind Hadrian.

"Evening, Potter," she said with a welcoming twinkle in her eyes.

"Evening. This is… wow."

She chuckled. "It does look a bit much, doesn't it? Don't worry, everyone's a bit daunted their first time." She wiped her hands on her robes. "Are you trying to reach anyone in particular tonight, or is it just about the magic?"

Hadrian inhaled, his fingers twitching. "Isn't that a bit… personal?"

Farley raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "If you want to reach someone through the veil, you'll need separate runes. I'm not making small talk, I need to know if you'll need extra protection."

Hadrian's cheeks flushed gently. "Sorry. And… yes. There is someone."

Farley nodded and gestured for Hadrian to approach her. She dipped a finger in a small jar of black paint and pushed Hadrian's hair away from his forehead. Hadrian jerked at her sudden touch, but when she looked at him questioningly he shook his head and gestured for him to continue.

"Don't be disappointed if you can't find them," she said, dragging her finger across his forehead. "The veil is the thinnest tonight, but it can still be difficult for some to fight their way through. You're more likely to feel a presence than have a conversation. The longer they've been gone, the less likely they'll be able to find a tether to this world."

Hadrian nodded, and his diaphragm squeezed gently when the door creaked and Greengrass and Zabini slipped inside.

"Well met," Greengrass said to Farley, who dipped her head and returned the greeting, as did Zabini. Zabini had Farley paint the rune on his head as well, and by the time she was done the others had arrived. Rowle and Nott were the only others to need the extra rune. When Farley was finished, she placed them all at one corner of the hexagon, and Hadrian briefly wondered who Zabini, Rowle and Nott were trying to contact.

"I'm going to draw a few drops of blood from each of you," Farley explained, "so put your arm out, palm-up." The first-years did so, and Farley drew her wand and muttered under her breath. Nott sucked in breath as they all felt a sting on their inner forearms, and red droplets were pulled out. They landed in a small bowl that sat at Farley's feet, who stirred the mixture with her finger before using it to paint a symbol on each of her cheeks. She cleaned her hands and waved her wand, the candles lighting. The seven of them knelt, Farley in the centre.

The prefect started chanting in a language Hadrian had never heard, but the words seemed to flow together like water, and Hadrian felt his blood begin to thrum beneath his skin. The candle flames danced higher and higher with every syllable that poured from Farley's mouth. A low thumping resonated within his ears, and for a moment he thought perhaps someone was beating on a drum, before he realised he was hearing his own heartbeat.

The hair on his arms and the back of his neck prickled, and his skin tingled gently. He closed his eyes and took a gulp of air, and it felt more refreshing than anything he'd ever tasted. The pool of magic that normally swam in and out of reach began to wriggle and twist and seep into him, until the dam broke and his mind was flooded with the burning, powerful feeling. It enveloped him, surrounded his thoughts with the heavy scent of euphoria. Using magic always felt intoxicating when he allowed it to fill him, but this was a whole different level; he felt suspended in space, as if he had risen from his corporeal body and was now nothing but mist and stardust.

Magic sparked at his fingertips and power welled up inside of him, but he wasn't nervous; he was in complete control. He felt more at peace than he had in months. All his worries seemed so insignificant now, like pebbles amid a mountain range. What did it matter whether his classmates respected him, or whether or not Elena got her way, when he could see the entirety of the universe?

Then he felt something. It was a pull, as if there was a magnet buried within his chest. He nearly fell forward when there was a sudden release and he jerked backwards, and a comforting hand cupped his cheek. Hadrian opened his eyes slowly and felt all the air escape from his lungs.

"I've missed you," whispered Shade. Her brown eyes were glimmering, her skin glowing with moonlight. Hadrian desperately drew in a shuddering breath and opened his mouth, but nothing came out except a quiet sob. She smiled sadly and stroked his cheek.

"How - I - Shade," was all he managed. The intense euphoria from before had gently drained, and now his chest was tight. "Is it - is it really you?"

She nodded with a quiet chuckle. "It's really me," she confirmed. He put his hand over hers and gripped it firmly, terrified she would fade into a wisp of smoke, but beneath his fingers was cool flesh. She was really here.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his eyes prickling with heat, and she pulled him into a tight hug.

She pressed his body into hers and replied, "Sh, sh, Assassin, don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."

Whatever restraint Hadrain had fell to pieces and he broke against her embrace, tears beginning to stream from his face. "I should have - I should have stopped him, I shouldn't have let you come, I should have -"

"Assassin," Shade interrupted, drawing back and holding his face between her hands, staring into his eyes, "it was not your fault." He nodded but was unable to reply, his body wracked with sobs. "You cannot blame yourself." She cocked her head and smiled gently. "I'm so proud of you, Sin," she murmured.

Hadrian let out a shaky laugh. "How could you possibly be proud of me? Of what I've done?"

"How could I not be? Look at you, Sin! Look what you've accomplished! Here you sit, with the respect of your entire house, after knowing them for only a few months. With more control over your magic than some fully-grown wizards. You're incredible." She squeezed him tighter. "Just… be careful you don't lose your way," she added softly.

He swallowed. "What do you mean?" He asked, the broken body of her killer flashing through his mind.

"I mean make sure that what you're doing is working towards what you want. Not just what Elena wants." Her tone grew colder at the mention of the vampiress. Hadrian buried his face in Shade's shoulder.

"It is," he promised. She pulled back from the hug to smile at him, and he drank in the image of her before him, her brown hair framing her heart-shaped face. The same mole underneath her left eye, the same slightly cleft chin, the same birthmark on her neck that Spider resolutely maintained looked like a dalek (although Hadrian still couldn't see it). His hands shook as he gazed at her.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, and she clicked her tongue.

"We've been over this. It wasn't -"

"No, I mean… I'm sorry for not avenging you."

She furrowed a brow. "As I recall, you did. In quite a memorable way, I might add." Her tone was disapproving, but to Hadrian's relief she didn't sound angry.

He licked his lips. "I killed that one, yes, but… Mr Noir. He's to blame. If I had -"

"No," Shade said sharply, cutting him off. "I don't want you going after him. If you die trying to avenge me, I'll be inconsolably cross." Hadrian couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously though, Sin, don't search for him. Don't put yourself in any unnecessary danger. Your life is dangerous enough already, and I'm already dead."

The words sent a jolt through him. This wasn't going to last. "What am I supposed to do without you?" He said hoarsely, and she smiled sadly at him.

"What you've been doing. You can't dwell on me, Sin. We get this chance to say goodbye, but I'm dead. I'm not coming back. Focus your energy on our family, who are all alive and breathing and need your help."

Hadrian tightened his grip on her hands. "But - this won't be the last time I see you. Next year - next Samhain, I can -" but his words slowed to a stop at Shade's expression.

"Assassin… the tether I'm pulling on between the two of us… it's already draining me. The longer I'm gone, the harder it is for me to find and use tethers. Next year… I don't know if I'll be strong enough to come through all the way."

"This can't be it," Hadrian argued stubbornly, "not when magic exists. There are books on necromancy - you can't - this can't be the last time I see you," his voice hitched, "I don't believe it. I don't believe you."

"I love you," Shade murmured, lacing her fingers in his. "I love you so much." Her form flickered for a moment, and Hadrian pulled her closer.

"What was that?" He asked, scared that he knew the answer.

"You know what it means. I have to go soon."

He shook his head. "No. No, not yet - you just got here -" she flickered in and out of his sight again, her hands ghosting through his.

"Assassin," she said softly, a single tear trailing down her cheek and running over her chin, "Remember that -"

She vanished. Hadrian's heart thumped loudly in his chest as he stared in front of him, his arms clutching at empty air. "No," he whispered, "no, that's not - she can't be - no. No." Gritting his teeth, he blinked furiously. That couldn't be it. He didn't have a chance to tell her how much he loved her - how important she was - that couldn't be it. He wouldn't allow it.

The well at the back of his mind began to flow again, easing the pain, but he pushed it back. He wasn't going to let her go that easily. He shoved the euphoric feeling away, grasping desperately at the tendrils of magic Shade had left behind. His right ear began to buzz loudly, but he ignored it. The still forms of his housemates, their eyes shut tightly where they sat, began to blur in front of him.

"NO!" He shouted angrily, tears spilling from his eyes. He slammed his fist on the ground and felt a wave of magic flow through him as his vision went black.

He jerked his eyes open suddenly, as if awaking from a dream, before realizing he hadn't moved from his position when the ritual had started. His housemates were beginning to open their eyes as well; Zabini had a hard look in his eyes, Nott looked forlorn, and Rowle's expression hadn't changed from her typical sly amusement (albeit it looked a tad more rehearsed than usual). The others, however, wore expressions of the utmost glee.

"That was… holy shit," Bulstrode breathed, her pupils dilated.

"Language," Greengrass admonished, but her tone had no bite to it; she, also, looked too peaceful to be truly bothered by Bulstrode's profanity. She brushed a stray platinum hair from her face and stood up slowly, the others gently following suit. Hadrian did so after a few moments, his stomach plummeting to the floor. Whatever healing he had managed to do since Shade's death, whatever wounds he had managed to stitch over, had been ripped open again; it felt just as raw and painful as the day after she'd been killed.

"I've removed the binding sigils," Farley told them, her eyes on Hadrian, a crease in her forehead. "You can leave." One by one, they all thanked her and made their way out of the dueling pit.

"Potter," the prefect called as he made to exit after Rowle, "a word?"

Hadrian bit the inside of his cheek; he was aching, and needed the embrace of his family, not a conversation where he had to fight the tears back long enough to get back to is bed. Nonetheless, he owed Farley for being their conduit, and he couldn't just ignore her, so he swung back around with eyebrows raised.

Farley was waving her wand and the black symbols were slowly disappearing from the floor and the walls. "Are you alright?" She asked casually as the last of the runes were erased.

Hadrian looked at her suspiciously. "Yes."

She turned to face him, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm fine," he said, crossing his arms. She raised her hands in a placating gesture before flicking her wand and sending all the candles flying through the air and into a small wooden chest in the corner of the room.

"Potter, it's normal to be emotional after any ritual like this, especially Samhain. Seeing a loved one for the first time since they've passed -"

"I said I'm fine," Hadrian snapped. His fingers twitched, and his cheeks heated.

Farley closed the chest of candles and lifted it, settling it under her arm and approaching Hadrian, a knowing look in her eye.

"Hadrian, when I ended the ritual, everyone in this room nearly died."

Hadrian stared at her. "Excuse me?"

She sighed. "The Old Rites are never light-hearted, and Samhain is especially dangerous. If the ritual is ended before I can remove the proper runes, or speak the proper chants, then the participants can get stuck on the other side of the veil, or in limbo between this side and the other side, or become trapped within their own minds. Any interference can be deadly. And just before I began to end it, you had some kind of… reaction. A conduit has a magical link to each participant, and you sent such a wave of magic up the link it nearly wrecked the protection runes. Look, Potter." She pointed at where he had been kneeling for the ritual, and - he blinked. The stone floor had cracked.

"If that crack had interfered with any of the runes, the outcome might have been deadly." She paused, and to Hadrian she sounded as if she were speaking through water; her voice was distant and murky as his world spun.

He didn't dare dwell on the deeper implications of her words; didn't dare think about how close he had been to being responsible for more death. Instead he swallowed and clasped his hands together tightly to stop them from shaking. Farley's eyes didn't leave Hadrian's.

"Why did you really do this?" He asked, changing course. He couldn't focus on anything important, Shade's words echoing around his head. "And don't give me some bullshit about continuing tradition."

Farley rubbed her neck, leaving a streak of black paint marring her olive skin. "To be candor," she admitted, "I wanted to test the first years. This particular year is full of so many powerful names… Black, Malfoy, Greengrass… it was an opportunity to get a real look at some of them without drawing too much attention."

Hadrian nodded. That made sense. It was natural that the upper-years would take an interest in the students in his year; Farley was right, there were a lot of powerful names. "Goodnight, Farley," he said, suddenly exhausted. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his skull as he left the room.

"Goodnight, Potter."

Gemma Farley watched the small boy leave, closing the door behind him. When she heard the small click that meant the door was shut, she let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her blonde hair.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, her blood still singing with magic; hers and Potter's. She had never felt anything like that before. She had expected… well, some sort of reaction, and she knew from his duel against the Malfoy boy that he was skilled, but the raw power that ran through his veins had knocked the air from her lungs, and nearly rendered her unconscious. If it weren't for the preparatory potions she had drank before the ceremony, she and every one of the young Slytherins who had trusted her would be dead.

It wasn't a pleasant thought; the idea of being responsible for someone's death was an awful prospect. However, the horror within her was marred by a terrible excitement. The Potter boy got more intriguing every day, and feeling the extent of his magic had been nothing short of thrilling.

And as she removed the last traces of the ritual from the dueling pit, a thin, wavering plan began to sketch itself within her mind.