The next morning, Lena was up and getting ready for the day by five a.m.. It was only a little earlier than usual for her, as she generally preferred to eat breakfast in a mostly, if not completely empty, Great Hall. On this occasion, however, she had something to do before she ate.

She moved around the dormitory quietly, careful not to wake Skelton, who was not a morning person and usually didn't rise until about half-an-hour before the first class of the day.

A final check in the mirror told Lena she was ready to leave, and she walked over to the door. She was stopped by a small sound coming from her bedside table: an enquiring Mortimer. Lena sighed, and went over to him. He looked up at her with a pleading expression.

"Fine," she whispered, picking him up. "You can come." She put him on her shoulder so he would be able to quickly hide in her hair if they came across anyone. Skelton and Rolf were the only people who knew about the Bowtruckle, and Lena wanted to keep it that way.

Double-checking that her wand was in the pocket of her school robe, Lena finally left the dorm and made her way upstairs to the common room, and after checking that it was empty, crossed it. She walked through the passage that led out to the stone wall that was the entrance of the Slytherin Dungeon. Reaching it, the wall opened and Lena exited.

As she walked towards the staircase that led out of the dungeons, Lena reflected on what Dumbledore had said the previous night after they'd finished eating. Apparently, the corridor on the third-floor was 'out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death'. The headmaster had not mentioned why this was, so naturally Lena's destination this morning was the third-floor, to find out for herself.

Lena ran through the possibilities in her head as she climbed the stairs. Was it an object of Dark magic? She had come across such things many times during the period of her childhood spent abroad – not to mention in Knockturn Alley, where she currently resided when not at Hogwarts – that could certainly cause 'a very painful death'. But it was so unlikely, thought Lena as she reached the ground-floor and made a beeline to the tapestries that concealed a narrow staircase that led to the second-floor, that Dumbledore would allow an artefact related to the Dark Arts into Hogwarts. Unless, considered Lena as she moved the tapestries aside and began her ascent, the reason for bringing it here was to prevent somebody else from taking and using it.

Lena distractedly avoided the trick step halfway up the staircase, and frowned to herself. Surely the safest place to hide something in Hogwarts would be in the Headmaster's office, not the third-floor corridor. But, she conceded as she reached the second-floor, it would also be the most expected place. And Dumbledore was by no means a fool – if he was truly concerned about someone wanting to take whatever he was hiding, the headmaster would not be so predictable.

But then why the third-floor corridor? Lena racked her brains as she drew closer to the staircase leading up to the Charms corridor on the third-floor. As far as she knew – and she had taken the last four years to get to know Hogwarts very well – there was nothing special about the third-floor corridor. Perhaps, she thought, there was a passageway that she didn't know about that led to somewhere less conspicuous in the castle.

Lena walked along the Charms corridor towards the door that separated it from the third-floor corridor, feeling even more confused than she had before. If the third-floor simply contained a hidden entrance, what was so dangerous there that Dumbledore didn't want any students to stumble upon?

Lena abruptly stopped at the door, her mind whirring. What if it wasn't whatever was being hidden that was the immediate cause of the danger? What if it was just something very valuable or had the potential to be very powerful? Something that needed layers of protection around it?

Lena let out a long breath, staring at the door. Whatever was behind it wasn't what Dumbledore was protecting. It was whatever was protecting it – or at least one of the things protecting it, realised Lena. Presumably there were several layers of defence, if it was so important.

It all brought Lena back to her initial question: what was directly behind the door that was so dangerous? She pressed an ear to the door and thought she could hear some sort of noise, but wasn't sure what. Cautiously, she tried turning the doorknob. It was locked.

She ran through the facts in her mind. There was something behind the door that would probably try to kill her the moment she entered the corridor. However, it was most likely guarding the entrance to somewhere else. And that, rationalised Lena, meant Dumbledore needed to be able to get past it, so he would be able to reach the something that he was protecting. So, she concluded, there was a way to enter the corridor and not be killed. The only question was if Lena would have the necessary ability to do.

For a moment, she reviewed everything she had so far accomplished in her life. Then she made her decision.

Lena reached inside her pocket for her wand, but before she could take it out, she felt Mortimer tugging on her hair. She took him off her shoulder, and held him in front of her to see what he wanted. He gestured towards the door, then himself.

Lena smiled at him indulgently. "Well," she said to Mortimer, "if you're that desperate to do something useful, I don't see why not."

She held him out directly in front of the door's lock, and the Bowtruckle extended his twiggy arms towards it. Less than three seconds later, there was a click. Mortimer clambered back up Lena's arm to his position on her shoulder as she tried the doorknob again. This time, the door opened. Lena stepped through, and for the second time in her life, came face to face with a three-headed dog.

Mortimer let out a terrified squeak.

'Bugger,' she thought, as the creature fixed all six of its angry eyes on her, and let out a growl. 'Not again.'

Thursday 17 June, 1982:

"Where are we going?" a six-and-a-half year old Lena asked Aunt Valeriya as they briskly walked past the Grossmünster, one of the four main churches in Zürich. The rising sun cast a glow across the city, but there was no stopping and appreciating the sight for Lena, who practically had to jog to keep up with her aunt's long strides.

Aunt Valeriya didn't even look at her as she replied, "I told you. To Lustenberger's."

Lena struggled to keep in an impatient noise as her aunt named the man who organised the international (and illegal, Lena suspected) Portkeys that Aunt Valeriya used to travel around the world. Lena had been to Lustenberger's place several times with her already.

"I know that," said Lena. "I meant where are we going from there."

Aunt Valeriya glanced down at her. "It's a surprise."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

This time, Lena didn't hold in her aggravated sigh. Aunt Valeriya used the phrase 'Because I said so' far too often for Lena's liking. 'He would have given me a proper reason,' thought Lena mutinously, before shoving the thought away. It still hurt too much to think about her old teacher.

They crossed a street, drawing closer to the banks of the Limmat River, where Lustenberger lived. There was very little traffic on the roads, and the few people they'd passed had mostly been joggers. Lena had discovered early on that Aunt Valeriya preferred to travel through cities at the least busy times of the day. This had led her to once ask her aunt why she didn't just directly Apparate to Lustenberger's.

"He has anti-Apparition wards around his place," her aunt had told her, "and there aren't any discrete places nearby to Apparate into. Besides," she added sternly, "it's good for wizards and witches to walk to places instead of relying on magic to always get them from A to B. Allowing yourself to become totally reliant on one thing is both dangerous and stupid."

That was one of the many pieces of advice Aunt Valeriya had given her. In fact, Lena had to admit she'd learned a lot in the six months she'd known Valeriya Dolohov.

After her parents' arrest, Lena's paternal grandmother, Irina Lestrange, had quickly taken her out of Britain, and to a house in northern Switzerland that one of her ancestors had built in the late eighteenth century. Lena had been surprised by her grandmother's sudden desire to take responsibility for her – after all, Irina had never shown any real affection or even interest in her before. When she'd asked Irina why she was looking after her, her grandmother's response had been a vague answer about family duty. Lena had warily accepted it, and that was the last that was said of the matter.

About six weeks after coming to Switzerland, Lena had met Irina's sister, Valeriya, for the first time. She'd previously met their brother, Antonin Dolohov, several times while back in England, as he had been a Death Eater like her parents and Uncle Rabastan (and was now also incarcerated like them). However, Aunt Valeriya was very different to her siblings. She didn't even look related to them, except for sharing the same blue-grey eyes that Lena had also inherited. While Irina and Antonin were tall, dark-haired and long-faced, Valeriya had cork-screw curly blonde hair that stuck out like a mane around her head, and her cheeks were round and full. She also looked at least ten years younger than her fifty years, and was almost a head shorter than Irina. But despite looking far less intimidating than her siblings, Lena had very quickly discovered that Valeriya was far more dangerous than Irina, and quite possibly Antonin as well.

Aunt Valeriya was a dealer in Dark artefacts, discovering, buying and selling them to a clientele that stretched all across Europe, and even parts of Asia and Africa. She had connections with some of the most wanted wizards and witches in the world, and was respected (and feared) by many who worked in the world of the Dark Arts. She was undoubtedly a brilliant witch, and Lena, who was desperately missing her previous mentor, welcomed her Great Aunt's new presence in her life.

In turn, Aunt Valeriya had been incredibly impressed by her great-niece, from her extraordinary control over what was supposed to be 'accidental' magic, to the fact that Lena, at age six, was a more accomplished Occlumens than almost all grown wizards and witches Valeriya had met. So, deciding it would be a wasted opportunity if not taken, Aunt Valeriya started taking Lena on some of her safer trips around Europe, allowing her niece to witness the deals she made. Through this exposure, Lena was beginning to develop a greater knowledge and understanding of the Dark Arts – something that Lord Voldemort had promised to teach her, but never got around to before his downfall.

Now, as Lena followed her aunt down the familiar route to Lustenberger's, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of irritation and appreciation for Aunt Valeriya. She hated the way her aunt gave her orders without allowing room for questioning them – Voldemort had rarely ever minded if Lena argued back, and had usually been more than happy to engage in a spirited discussion with his pupil. But on other the hand, thought Lena as they approached Lustenberger's door, she had spent most of her life back in England shut up in her parents' house; with Aunt Valeriya, she was getting to see more of the world than she'd ever dreamed she would see while still a child.

Aunt Valeriya knocked on the door three times. She and Lena waited for about ten seconds, until the door opened to reveal an old, white-haired man. He stood back and gestured for them to come in, grinning.

"Valeriya, wie geht es dir? Und Fraulein Lena, es ist schön dich wiederzusehen," Lustenberger greeted them as they stepped inside.

Lena, hoping she had understood correctly, smiled. "Hallo, Herr Lustenberger. Ich bin gut, danke."

Lustenberger chuckled, before speaking in broken English. "The Deutsch ist coming gut then, ja?"

Lena, with an inquiring gaze at Lustenberger, hesitantly responded, "Stück für Stück?"

Lustenberger gave her a grandfatherly smile back. "Ja, bit by bit."

Aunt Valeriya cleared her throat. "Yes, as delightful as Lena's progress with the German language is, could we get a move on, please? We're on something of a schedule."

Lena wasn't sure whether Lustenberger understood word-for-word what her aunt was saying, but he seemed to catch the general meaning, as he nodded and led them through his neatly-kept house, and to his workshop at the back, that looked out onto the river.

On the table in the workshop lay half-a-dozen or so everyday objects, which Lena knew to be Portkeys. Lustenberger gestured to a perfume bottle and a pocket French dictionary.

"Bottle is to get there, book to get back," he said to Aunt Valeriya.

"Times?"

"Go at 6:05, come back Swiss time ten a.m.. Eleven in Greek time," he added.

"We're going to Greece?" Lena asked her aunt, excited.

"Yes," answered Aunt Valeriya shortly.

"Where?" pressed Lena.

"Mykonos."

Before Lena could ask anything else, Lustenberger picked up the two Portkeys and gave them to Aunt Valeriya. She put the dictionary in the inside pocket of her lightweight grey coat, and held the perfume bottle out to Lena.

"Hand on," she ordered her, and Lena obeyed, grasping the bottle.

Lustenberger took out a pocket watch. "Fifteen seconds," he told them. "Gute reise!"

Lena, suspecting he was wishing them a good trip, replied, "Danke, Herr Lustenberger," and tried to prepare herself for the uncomfortable feeling in her navel that accompanied Portkey travel.

Then came the jerking feeling, and Lena screwed her eyes shut. She felt the floor of Lustenberger's workshop disappear beneath her. A few unpleasant seconds later, her feet met ground again. She opened her eyes as she released the perfume bottle and stumbled back, barely retaining her footing. Aunt Valeriya, meanwhile, had landed with the certainty and grace of an experienced Portkey traveller.

Lena looked around. They had appeared at the bottom of a hill, and were surrounded by dry looking trees. Within seconds, Lena felt the dramatic temperature change, and regretted the choice she'd made that morning of wearing black leggings. 'Then again', she thought to herself, 'it's really Aunt Valeriya's fault for not telling me where we were going.' She removed the maroon cardigan she'd been wearing over her short-sleeved white peasant blouse, and felt a bit more comfortable. Aunt Valeriya also had taken off her coat, and was folding it carefully over her arm so that the dictionary wouldn't fall out. She had dropped the perfume bottle on the ground, and once she was finished with her coat, pointed her wand at the bottle.

"Incendio."

The bottle burst into flames. Aunt Valeriya waited for a few moments, taking the time to adjust her light blue blouse and black dragon-hide trousers. Lena had never seen her wear witches' robes. Finally, her aunt put out the fire. The bottle was now a small pile of ash.

Aunt Valeriya checked her wristwatch, and turned to Lena. "Come along, then. We'd better get moving."

The hill wasn't too steep, but the heat slowed their climb up the hill a little. But once Lena reached the top, she was impressed by the view. The hill looked down on the nearest town, which due to its small size, Lena supposed wasn't the main town of Mykonos. There were about thirty or so white buildings, all cramped together, and there was a fountain in the town's centre. Some way past the town was a sandy beach, and the very blue sea. Lena imagined it would be quite a beautiful place to live – if you liked that sort of thing. Personally, she preferred somewhere with less sun.

"Are we going there?" she asked Aunt Valeriya, pointing at the town.

Aunt Valeriya nodded, and checked her watch again. "Come on, I'm supposed to be meeting him in six minutes."

They began their descent, and Lena asked what the purpose of the visit was.

"The man we're meeting, Markellos, has a collection of cursed books he wants to sell," Aunt Valeriya explained. "And it just so happens that I know a witch in Finland who's looking for a certain few volumes."

Lena wrinkled her nose. "Why does she want cursed books?"

"I didn't ask," said Aunt Valeriya delicately.

"Okay then, how about hypothetically?" persisted Lena. "Why would someone knowingly buy cursed books?"

Aunt Valeriya gave her a sidelong glance. "Try to figure it out yourself," she said.

Lena began twirling a strand of hair that had escaped the ponytail she'd done that morning. "Well," she began, "I suppose... it could be for academic purposes."

"Academic purposes?"

"Yeah," said Lena. "You know, to study them. To understand how the curses exactly work."

"That's a rather optimistic notion," replied Aunt Valeria drily.

"It's what I would do with them," said Lena defensively.

Aunt Valeriya snorted. "I'm sure you would. However, I'm more inclined to believe that the general reason would be to give them to your enemy, in the hope they become a victim of whatever curse the book holds. "

"That sounds like an unnecessarily elaborate form of revenge," remarked Lena. "And risky too."

"Well, some people like to be creative." Aunt Valeriya shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that."

Eventually, they reached the edge of the town. Lena stared at some of the plants. They didn't look Muggle. An owl suddenly flew out of a second-storey window, and Lena could just make out something attached to its leg.

"This is a Wizarding town?" she asked Aunt Valeriya.

"Yes. Its name in English is Mykons' Grove," her aunt told her as they walked though the main street. "One of only five entirely magically-populated towns left in Greece."

Aunt Valeriya led her all the way to the other side of the town, to a house that stood a little away from the others. Unlike them, it was only one-storey, and looked less well-kept. It was surrounded by a small fence, and had a front garden that was completely overrun with various sorts of weeds. Aunt Valeriya opened the front gate, and ushered Lena through. They walked down a small path that led to the dark blue front door. Its paint was peeling, and there was a rusty sun-shaped doorknocker in its centre that Aunt Valeriya used. She then wiped her hand on her trousers, wearing an expression of distaste. Lena waited silently, curious. What sort of wizard lived here?

They heard a loud thud, and a yell of pain, and Lena inadvertently took a step back. She heard continued muttering drawing closer to the door, which was suddenly flung open. A portly, middle-aged wizard with a bushy beard stood there, wearing a short, red dressing-gown, and not much else. His wand was stuck in the girdle of the gown, and his knee was bleeding.

For a second he just stood there, staring at Aunt Valeriya, who looked at him impassively.

"Markellos, I presume?" she said.

The wizard, Markellos, seemed to regain his wits. "Yes, yes. And you are Valeriya Dolohov?" His voice was gruff and thickly accented, but eloquent. He held out his hand, and Aunt Valeriya shook it.

"Yes," she replied.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms Dolohov," said Markellos. "I've heard much about you and–"

He stopped abruptly, when he realised she wasn't alone.

"My niece," answered Aunt Valeriya before he could ask. "Lena."

Lena didn't bother making the correction that she was technically Valeriya's great-niece. The last time she had, it'd led to a long and boring conversation about how Valeriya didn't look old enough to be a Great Aunt. Instead, she simply extended her hand to Markellos. "Hello."

An amused Markellos accepted the offered hand and shook it gently but firmly. "Hello to you." He raised his thick eyebrows at Aunt Valeriya. "Your business associate?"

"More of an apprentice," said Lena, before her aunt could respond. This prompted a chuckle from Markellos.

"Well then, Miss Apprentice, why don't you come in and offer me your expertise?" he said, and stood back from the threshold. Lena entered, followed by Aunt Valeriya.

The inside of the house seemed to be in as poor condition as the outside. There also appeared to be something sticky on the floor. Lena guessed that Markellos slipping over in it had probably being the source of the earlier thudding sound.

"Ah, yes," said Markellos sheepishly, following Lena's gaze. "I should probably clean that up." He grabbed his wand from his girdle, and muttered a spell under his breath. The sticky substance vanished, and the three of them continued their way further into the messy house. It was very dark, as none of the windows were open, and it was cluttered with books, cauldrons, and more than a few objects that Lena couldn't identify. Finally, they reached Markellos' study. Lena peered in, but couldn't see anything clearly: it was too dark.

Markellos pointed his wand somewhere into the middle of the room, and suddenly there was light. It was not a large room, and it was made even smaller by the large desk and piles of papers and books that occupied it. However, all three of them managed to squeeze in, and Lena looked around in interest. The walls of the study were covered in paintings, sketches, tapestries and maps; most of them look related to Ancient Greece. The desk was also full of objects and books. One small statue particularly piqued Lena's interest. It was about a foot high, and if Lena was to hazard a guess, it looked to be made of obsidian. It depicted a woman in ancient Greek garb, holding a skull in one hand and some sort of sphere in the other. But the most unusual thing about her was that she appeared to have three faces: the normal one on the front of the head, and one on either side, together all forming a kind of triangular head. Lena was intrigued by the expression carved onto the statue's front face. It was the face, Lena thought, of someone who knew more than anyone else could imagine.

"Hecate."

Startled, Lena turned around to see Markellos was looking at her. Aunt Valeriya was engrossed in one of the tapestries on the wall.

"Sorry?"

"It is a statue of Hecate," he said, gesturing to the item. "Have you heard of her?"

"No. Who is she?"

Markellos shuffled forward so he was leaning against the desk, and directly next to Lena. "Some of the Muggles, mostly Greeks like myself, of the ancient times believed her to be a goddess. But–"

"The goddess of what?" interrupted Lena.

"Several things," answered Markellos. "But most commonly magic. Particularly necromancy, but also what we today call Herbology."

Lena furrowed her brow, and unconsciously began to play with her hair. "Necromancy? Like, raising the dead?"

Markellos nodded. "Of course, in truth she wasn't a goddess – just a very powerful witch who lived in Greece three thousand years ago. Supposedly, she lived for a very long time, hence the belief she was immortal."

"How long?"

"Magical historians estimate about three centuries."

Lena rarely gaped, but on this occasion she couldn't help it. "Three centuries? But how?"

Markellos shrugged. "Alas, we do not know for sure. There are theories, of course, such as that she made an early prototype of the Philosopher's Stone–"

"The what?"

"Have you heard of Nicolas Flamel?" he asked, and Lena shook her head. "He is the oldest living wizard today. The Philosopher's Stone is a creation of his, and has kept him alive for over six hundred years."

Lena digested this information silently. So the secret to immortality had been found. Lord Voldemort had once hinted to her that there were ways to extend the span of the natural Wizarding life...

"But there is a much more likely theory," Markellos was continuing, "that it was not a Philosopher's Stone that kept Hecate alive, but a branch of the Dark Arts."

"To do with Necromancy?"

Markellos grimaced. "Not exactly. More along the lines of a Horcrux."

"And what's a Horcrux?" said Lena immediately.

"It's something you can read about in a book." It was not Markellos who had responded, but Aunt Valeriya, who had finished her examination of the tapestry. "In the meantime," she went on, turning her attention to Markellos, "I think it's about time I had a look at those books. They are, after all, what I travelled across the continent to see."

Markellos smiled apologetically at Lena, and picked up a box from the floor and put it on the only available space left on the desk. As he began to pull some books out of it, Aunt Valeriya pushed Lena away from where she was standing next to him, and took her spot. Lena ended up back near the doorway. Markellos and Aunt Valeriya began to discuss the books. Usually, Lena would stay near them and listen to their conversation in order to pick up whatever new titbits of information she could. However, the discussion of cursed books was a little dull after the prior one about Hecate and immortality, and this, combined with the cramped conditions of the study, meant that Lena couldn't muster her usual enthusiasm.

Bored, she stepped out into the small hallway that had led to the study, and looked around Markellos' house. Her eyes landed on the last door across the hallway, a couple of metres to her left. It was dark blue, like the front door, but this one appeared to have been repainted recently. In fact, it looked like the only part of the house in good shape. Curious, Lena walked over to it. With a closer look, she realised the door hadn't been repainted – it was entirely new, probably about a year or two old. She tried the handle, but it was locked.

Lena stared at the door, curiosity raging inside her. She wanted to know what was behind the door.

She quickly crossed back to the study and checked inside to see if Aunt Valeriya and Markellos were still entirely focused on the cursed books. Confirming that they were, she went back to the newer door and raised her right hand. She closed her eyes and concentrated hard while twisting her hand. At first, it didn't look like it was going to work, but Lena gritted her teeth and twisted her hand harder. Finally, there was a popping noise, and the door swung back, revealing a steep, wooden staircase that led down. Cautiously, she stepped onto the landing and looked down, trying to see where it led to, but all she could see was darkness.

Clutching the hand-railing, Lena began to slowly descend the staircase. It was not long before she found herself at the bottom. She released the railing, and concentrated hard again. A small flame appeared in her right hand, partially illuminating the basement she'd found herself in. She held the flame out, and scanned the room. It was difficult to see, but she noticed some torn blankets on the floor. She took a few steps forward, and saw that there were several large, chewed bones among the ripped up material.

A little more worried now, Lena studied the stone walls of the basement. There were huge gouges in them, like scratch-marks from a giant beast.

Lena hurriedly concluded that coming down here might not have been the smartest idea, and turned back towards the stairs. But there was now something standing between Lena and her exit. An enormous something with three heads, six glowing eyes, and lots and lots of teeth.

Lena froze, terrified. She tried to scream, in the hope that Aunt Valeriya would hear her and come to the rescue, but she couldn't make a sound. All she could do was stare at what looked to be a three-headed dog, and feel its hot breath across her face as it panted.

Suddenly, one of the heads began to growl lowly. The other two followed suit, and the creature tensed, about to strike. Lena, finally recovering from her terror, shrieked, and threw herself backwards, unintentionally extinguishing the flame in her hand. She heard, rather than saw, the creature lunge towards her, but she instinctively threw her hands in front of her, and there was a loud crashing sound, followed by a loud yelp. A chunk of stone had fallen from the ceiling onto one of the heads. Lena held her breath, hoping it was injured and would back off. Instead, there was the sound of the stone being shoved aside, and an angry snarl. Six glowing eyes glared at her.

Lena, believing she only had seconds until she was killed by this beast, desperately tried to think of a way to stop it, but she could think of nothing.

Suddenly, she heard music coming from behind the creature. Light flooded the room, and Lena saw the creature twitching. All six eyes began to droop. It slowly lay down, and Lena saw the sources of the music and light: Markellos, standing on the bottom step, playing panpipes, and Aunt Valeriya standing a few stairs behind him, her wand pointed out, emitting a glowing light. The beast's breathing changed, and Lena realised it was asleep.

Aunt Valeriya made a 'come here' motion to Lena, who cautiously walked around the three-headed dog, slipped past Markellos – who was still playing the panpipes – and followed her aunt back up the stairs into the dimly-lit hallway. Aunt Valeriya extinguished the light coming from her wand, spun around to face a trembling Lena, and smacked her across the back of the head. An embarrassed Lena didn't make any protest. She felt it was well-earned.

"How," hissed Aunt Valeriya, "could you have been so completely moronic to do what you just did?"

Lena stared at the floor, and mumbled, "I just wanted to know what was down there."

"Maximus," answered Markellos, who had just emerged from the stairs. He shut the door behind him and locked it with magic. "I bought him off a friend from Sparta a couple of years ago when he was just a puppy." He looked at Lena in confusion. "How did you get through the door? I thought I'd locked it."

"'Accidental magic' is not usually so 'accidental' for Lena," said Aunt Valeriya grimly. "I'm very sorry about this, Markellos. I've never known my niece to act so stupidly before."

Markellos shrugged. "It is fine. No harm done."

"Actually," said Lena in small voice, cringing as the adults both stared down at her, "I sort of damaged your ceiling. I dropped some of it on its, um, on Maximus' head."

"He'll be fine," said Markellos dismissively. "You'd have to drop an entire building on him before there was any serious damage done. There aren't even any curses you can use against him. This," he waved the panpipes, "is the only way to stop him. Puts him right to sleep."

"The panpipes?"

"Music," he corrected her. "Of any kind. It's the only defence against a three-headed dog, unless you can get your hands on a beast more dangerous – and it's pretty unlikely you'd be able to control anything more dangerous than a three-headed dog. Now," he said to Aunt Valeriya, who was still glaring at Lena, "why don't we step back into my study, and finalise this deal. And you," he spoke to Lena again, "can stay in our sight the whole time. Understand?"

Lena nodded, now more mortified by the whole experience than terrified.

"Good," said Markellos. He pointed to the study. "Shall we?"

Back in the Present:

Lena jumped back and slammed the door shut in front of her, just as the three-headed dog lunged towards her. Breathing heavily, she stared at the door, listening to the snarls of the creature behind it. So, there was literally a guard dog for whatever Dumbledore was hiding.

Lena turned around and began to walk back through the Charms corridor, before stopping. In her hurry to get away from the beast, she hadn't had a chance to look around to confirm her suspicion that the corridor held an entrance to a passageway. She bit her lip, and looked back at the door. She thought back to what Markellos had told her nine years ago: "Music. Of any kind."

In a second, she had made up her mind. She spun back around and strode towards the door, ignoring a still-traumatised Mortimer's noises of protestation and his tugging on her hair. She grabbed the doorknob, and paused. The three-headed dog was still directly up against the door, sniffing around. She would have to start the music before she entered. Turning around, she cast a sound-muffling charm around her. The last thing she wanted was to draw the attention of anyone while she was right in front of the forbidden corridor.

Lena took a deep breath and began to sing. It was a simple Wizarding folk song from Switzerland about a black flower that was native to it. Lena was not an especially talented singer, so the tune's narrow range suited her well.

She continued to sing as she pressed her ear against the door. The creature had stopped growling, and its breathing was gradually becoming slower. Lena allowed herself a small smile. It might not have been working as quickly as Markellos' panpipes, but her singing was working nonetheless.

After about twenty seconds, Lena decided it was safe to open the door. The three-headed dog lay about half a metre away from the corridor's entrance, fast asleep. Continuing to sing, Lena carefully walked around it, and went further into the corridor. She found what she was looking for immediately. A trapdoor.

She quickly walked up to it, and pulled it open. Her singing faltered for a second as she looked down into it, and the creature briefly stirred, before she refocused her attention on the song.

It looked like a long drop down. She non-verbally cast Lumos and pointed her wand down, but she couldn't see where the trapdoor led. Presumably, it went down at least as far as the dungeons.

Mildly disappointed at the lack of information she was able to garner, she put the light out and closed the trapdoor. She didn't stop singing until she had exited the corridor, and relocked the door.

Lena made her way back through the Charms corridor. Mortimer was muttering mutinously on her shoulder, evidently still cross that Lena had gone back into the room with the huge monster rather than running away in the opposite direction the first chance she'd gotten. Lena ignored him, descending to the second-floor.

Something incredibly important was being hidden at Hogwarts by Albus Dumbledore, and Lena had every intention of finding out what.