Saturday 23 November, 1991:

"Face it, Rolf," laughed Skelton, "the Hufflepuff team is shit this year – just like every other year."

Rolf sniffed. "Just wait, Maggie. Our time will come, and then we'll see who's laughing."

Skelton snorted. "Yeah – me."

Lena shook her head in amusement at Skelton and Rolf's bickering. They had recently finished watching the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. It had taken less than an hour for Ravenclaw to annihilate Hufflepuff 240 points to nil, to Rolf's disappointment and Skelton's glee. Instead of heading to lunch in the Great Hall like the rest of the students, the three of them, after a visit to the kitchens, were heading to one of their favourite spots in the Hogwarts' grounds with a basket of food painstakingly prepared for them by the house-elves. Mortimer, who had been in Lena's pocket during the game and had now climbed onto her shoulder, was excited to be allowed outside.

"And it was such a boring game," Skelton was saying. "Nowhere near as exciting as our game against Gryffindor–"

"Which Slytherin lost," Rolf pointed out.

Skelton shrugged. "Well, I'm not exactly someone who would win any awards for house loyalty, am I? Besides, I'd rather watch an entertaining game than one where one side just gets hammered by the other."

Lena slightly frowned. She hadn't watched the Slytherin-Gryffindor game two weeks earlier, where Harry Potter had apparently almost been thrown off his broom – which sounded highly suspicious to Lena, so she was annoyed she hadn't been there to witness it. But at the time, she hadn't been in the mood to watch a Quidditch game.

It had been three weeks since her blow-up in Snape's office, and she'd been bothered by that morning to the point of distraction ever since. Only earlier that week, McGonagall had asked her a question in Transfiguration and she hadn't been able to answer it. The week before that, she had earned an E on a piece of Herbology homework – the first time she'd ever gotten anything less than an O. How out-of-character these things were for Lena was only emphasised by her teachers' reactions – instead of annoyance or disappointment, McGonagall and Sprout had seemed genuinely concerned for her. The Transfiguration teacher had even asked Lena if she was ill.

As they drew closer to their destination – a spot by the edge of the Forbidden Forest that was a fair distance away from Hagrid's hut – Lena couldn't help but wonder if McGonagall's question hadn't been that far off the mark. Was she sick? She hadn't lost control of her magic like she had in Snape's office for years.

The worst thing was that the incident had brought lots of memories back to the forefront of Lena's mind – memories that Lena usually did her best to keep buried away in the depths of her mind. Memories of her mother, of lessons with Voldemort, of the Orb–

'No,' Lena told herself aggressively, slightly shaking her head as if physically trying to get that memory out of her mind. 'Don't go down that road. That's done with.'

"Lena?"

Lena snapped back to reality, and looked at Rolf, who had spoken. "Yes?"

Rolf and Skelton quickly exchanged a look.

"You okay?" asked Rolf hesitantly. He looked concerned. "You just seemed a bit... out of it."

"I'm fine," said Lena shortly. "Right, you've got the blanket?"

Rolf and Skelton looked at each other again in silent conference. Skelton gave a small shrug.

Rolf sighed softly. "Yep," he answered Lena, pulling the picnic blanket out of his bag as they stopped at the spot they were going to eat. He laid it down on the ground, and the three of them sat down. Lena, who had been carrying the basket of food and three plates, started to set it all out.

She felt Mortimer tug on her hair. She picked him up and placed him on the ground. "Now," she said to him, "be careful in there, and be back here in one hour. Understand?"

The bowtruckle rolled his tiny eyes like a moody teenager being lectured by his mother, but nodded.

"Good. Off you go then."

Gleefully, Mortimer scuttled off into the Forest. Lena watched him fondly.

"Do you think he meets up with the other Bowtruckles in there?" mused Rolf.

"Maybe," considered Lena, cocking her head, "but I can't say I've ever seen him show much interest in other members of his own species."

"No wonder the two of you get along so well."

Skelton, who had just taken a sip of water, snorted, spraying water everywhere.

After giving her fellow Slytherin a disapproving look, Lena raised an eyebrow at Rolf. "You trying to psychoanalyse me, Scamander?"

He grinned. "Merlin, I'd love to see you in a counselling session."

"I reckon any psychiatrist would love to meet you," added Skelton. "You'd probably give them enough material to write a whole book."

Lena took a bite out of a chicken salad sandwich, and chewed it thoughtfully. She swallowed, then said drily, "Maybe that's what I'll tell Snape in my Careers Advice meeting next year – that I'm going to spend the rest of my life in analysis."

Instead of laughing, Skelton and Rolf looked at her in surprise.

"What?" asked Lena, confused.

"Nothing," said Skelton in a too-casual way. "Just that it's the first time you've brought up Snape in a conversation since the day after Halloween."

Lena looked away, annoyed at herself. After what had happened in Snape's office, she had told Skelton and Rolf only the bare minimum of what had gone on the night of Halloween – that she had gone up to the third-floor corridor, suspecting that was where Quirrell was going, but had found Snape instead, whose leg had been bitten by the three-headed dog (aspiring magizoologist that Rolf was, he'd immediately wanted to go and see the beast, but was eventually persuaded out of it by Lena). She had only told them that she met with Snape the next morning to discuss the events of the previous night, and hadn't mentioned anything else that went down in that meeting.

But her reluctance to discuss anything more, and Snape's refusal to so much as look at her, had clued in Skelton and Rolf to the fact that something else must have happened. But they knew her well enough to understand they wouldn't get anywhere by pressing the issue with her – if Lena wanted to tell them anything, she'd do it in her own time. It was their acceptance of this behaviour that made them the closest thing Lena had to friends.

However, unintentionally bringing up Snape had caused Lena to start dwelling on everything again. As Skelton and Rolf, who sensed that Lena wanted a moment to retreat into herself, struck up a conversation about their latest Care of Magical Creatures classes (a subject that all three of them took), Lena found herself wondering again why Snape of all people had made her lose control like that. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that he was the only person at Hogwarts that she had known back when she was still living with her parents, before their incarceration in Azkaban.

'Well,' thought Lena wryly, 'that's not strictly true. There's Draco now too..."

She recalled the time in the first week back of the school year that Draco had finally found her, and initiated a conversation.

"Hello," said the small, pointed-faced boy, as he slid into the spot opposite to where Lena sat eating dinner. Skelton wasn't there, as she had been busy finishing off a piece of Charms homework, so Lena was sitting alone. The boy, her cousin Draco Malfoy, continued, "I've been wanting to talk to you ever since I got to Hogwarts." He was attempting a confident drawl, but Lena could hear the nervousness underneath it.

Instead of responding, she just stared at him, emotionless, twirling some spaghetti around her fork.

The young Malfoy tried again. "My name is Dra–"

"Draco Malfoy," interrupted Lena, still expressionless. "Yes, I know."

"You do?" There was a small amount of relief in his voice. Lena supposed he'd been wondering if the reason she hadn't approached him was simply because she didn't know who he was.

"Yes. We've met before, though I doubt you would remember it, seeing as you were a squalling infant at the time."

Draco's face flushed. "Right. Well, I just thought, seeing as we're family–"

Lena raised an eyebrow. "What, that I'd... what's the expression, 'take you under my wing'?"

Draco squirmed. "Um, well, that's not exactly how I'd put it."

"But it's what you mean," said Lena, her voice becoming sharper. "Or at least, you want to know that I'm on your side if you ever need me." In her peripheral vision, she could see a lot of Slytherins were watching their conversation with interest. She ignored them, continuing to stare at Draco intently. "So, family matters to you, does it?" she asked suddenly.

Draco looked surprised at the question. "Um, I suppose so," he said.

"And your parents, I imagine they told you about me before you started school. I'm curious, what did they say?"

"Just that you were my cousin, and you'd be starting Fifth Year. And," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "that you were the daughter of my mother's sister, the one who's in Azkaban." When Lena didn't say anything, he continued, "They also said that you're powerful. Really powerful."

Draco watched Lena expectantly as she took another mouthful of spaghetti, chewed it, and swallowed. She put down her fork, and leant forward, resting her chin on one of her hands.

"Funny," she said, "that they're showing so much interest in me now, considering that after my parents were arrested, they wanted nothing to do with me."

Draco looked nervous again. "I–"

Lena cut him off. "I guess after Lucius escaped a sentence in Azkaban, he didn't feel as much pressure to distance himself from more... unsavoury family connections. But of course–" she gave Draco a twisted smile, "–you wouldn't remember any of that time. Does he tell you any stories, though? Your father, about his time as a Death Eater?"

Lena picked up her fork again, and started to eat again. But she didn't take her eyes off Draco, who appeared to be at a loss for words. In fact, he actually looked frightened now. Obviously, people did not often speak so openly about his father's past.

"I've heard... things," he finally muttered. He hesitated. "Maybe – maybe, you could tell me more?" he asked, almost shyly. "If you remember..."

Lena swallowed her food. "You want all the gory details?" she said wryly. "Tales of heroic exploits by the noble followers of the great Dark Lord?" She smiled mockingly. "Daddy's your role model, then? You want to be just like him when you grow up?"

Draco glared at her. "Yeah," he said forcefully. "Anything wrong with that?"

"Yes," Lena told him bluntly. "And if you're lucky enough – or smart enough – you'll realise that yourself before it's too late." Having finished her dinner, she put down her fork, and leant forward on her elbows. "I might be your family, Draco, but I'm not your friend. Don't expect me to help you out when you get yourself into trouble, and don't try to use your connection to me to intimidate others, because they will very quickly learn that I don't have your back. Now, stay out of my way, and I won't have to walk over you."

As she began to get up, Draco, looking at her with dislike and anger, said contemptuously, "I heard that your friend is a Mudblood."

Lena went very still for a second, before sitting down again. "Did you, now?"

Anybody who had known Lena for a bit longer would have immediately recognised the warning signs in her posture, expression and voice – it all quite closely resembled a snake waiting to strike. But Draco had only just met his cousin, so he did something very stupid, especially for a little First Year only at the very beginning of his magical education – he stood his ground.

"Yeah," he said defiantly. "Is it true? Is your best friend a dirty Mud–"

He abruptly stopped talking, and clutched his throat. His eyes bulged.

Lena, whose wand was trained on Draco from under the table, spared a glance at the teachers' table. None of them were looking her way. Satisfied, she fixed her attention on her little cousin again, who was struggling for air.

"You know," she began conversationally, "before, I just found you uninteresting. But now," she smiled pleasantly at the boy who was desperately trying to breathe, "I've decided I don't like you very much." She could feel other Slytherins' eyes on them, but was unconcerned by it. It wasn't like any of them were going to intervene, or draw a teacher's attention to it. "You see, little Malfoy," she continued, "it's really none of your business who I choose to associate with. And being rude about said associates – well, that's just crossing a line." She magically choked him for another couple of seconds, before releasing him.

Draco gasped for air, and eyed Lena in fear. She just smiled back at him.

"All right, there?" she asked him cheerfully. "You look a little short of breath."

He didn't respond; instead, he just massaged his throat.

"You see, cousin dear," said Lena quietly, "that's how it works. I gave you a warning to stay out of my way. You elected to ignore it. I punished you. So I'm going to give you another warning now: don't talk to me. Don't insult people who I like. Just stay in your own little bubble where you think that you're important because Mummy and Daddy say you are, where all your little friends look up to you, where you can confuse your blood status and money for power. Because trust me, if that bubble bursts, you're not going to like what you find." She leant forward, closer to Draco, who instinctively drew back. "I'm not my mother, Malfoy," she whispered. "But ignore the warnings I just gave you, and you'll find out just how nasty I can be."

Abruptly, she stood up and turned to go, but at the last second, looked back at Draco. "You should ask somebody about a girl named Leonora Travers. I'm sure you'll find it most illuminating." Satisfied with the expression of terror on his face, she smiled at him one last time before leaving.

The next time she had seen her cousin, she was fairly certain he had asked someone about Travers, because he'd been walking down a staircase and the moment he saw her, he had panicked and missed the next step, falling all the way down to the bottom of the stairs.

Lena munched on a blueberry muffin, and wondered whether she had initially been too harsh on Draco. Undoubtedly much of Draco's behaviour was the product of his upbringing by Lucius and Narcissa.

During the part of her childhood spent abroad, Lena hadn't heard much about the Malfoys, other than the fact they had avoided Azkaban. Since arriving back in England, she had learned that they were still a wealthy and influential family. She had also learned, mostly from inhabitants of Knockturn Alley, that blood purity was still a value they covertly practised, and that Lucius still dabbled with the Dark side of magic; apparently, he was a frequent visitor to Borgin and Burkes.

Lena knew that children usually tried to emulate their parents' behaviour and beliefs. Not from experience, of course. Rodolphus had ignored her, and Bellatrix despised her, so Lena had never tried to be like her parents. In fact, she had on several occasions argued against their pureblood supremacist views just to provoke her mother. But Lena was certain that Draco had been loved and spoiled by his parents, so naturally he thought what they believed was right.

But Lena couldn't bring herself to let that be an excuse for who he was. Perhaps some of her resentment of him from her childhood – a baby whose parents thought the world of – had lingered after all these years. And then when he had called Skelton a Mudblood...

She hadn't told Skelton about that – only that she had finally spoken with her cousin, and that he was the annoying little prat she'd expected him to be. As usual, Skelton had not pushed the matter any further than that.

Suddenly, Rolf's voice cut through Lena's internal monologue.

"So, you're both invited to spend Christmas with my family."

Startled, Lena dropped her muffin. She cursed under her breath and picked it up again, then stared at Rolf. Skelton was looking at him too, incredulous.

"We're what?" asked Skelton.

Rolf gave them both an uncertain smile. "Well, I wrote home last week, asking if you could spend the holidays with us, and they said yes."

"Really?" inquired Lena suspiciously. "Your dad was happy for me to spend Christmas at your home?"

Rolf's dad had been an Auror, until an injury sustained in the last Wizarding War from a Death Eater had forced him into early retirement.

Rolf shrugged. "Well, I wasn't exactly able to see his reaction firsthand, but Mum said it's all good. Besides, we'll be at my grandparents' home all Christmas," he added slyly.

Inwardly, Lena cursed Rolf. He knew she wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to meet his grandfather, the famed magizoologist Newt Scamander.

Skelton, meanwhile, looked incredibly awkward. "I wouldn't want to intrude on a family gathering," she said stiffly.

Rolf rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on," he said, exasperated. "Do you really want to spend another Christmas alone at Hogwarts? Is eating Christmas dinner with the teachers really such an enjoyable experience that you couldn't bear to miss it?"

Skelton always stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, having no desire to return to whatever foster home she went to during the summer.

For her first three years at Hogwarts, Lena had spent the Christmas holidays with Aunt Valeriya in either Knockturn Alley or travelling around the world like they used to. The previous Christmas, however, Aunt Valeriya had gotten caught up in Israel, and Lena had stayed at Hogwarts with Skelton.

"Look, Lena, Maggie," Rolf was saying. "I know the two of you aren't exactly, you know, touchy-feely people – I mean, Merlin, you still always call each other by your surnames, which, even if you refuse to admit it, is extremely weird. Because you guys are friends, even if saying it makes you want to vomit. And," he took a deep breath, "you're my friends. My best friends. And it would mean a lot to me if you would spend Christmas with me and my family this year."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"That was some of the most disgustingly sentimental drivel I've ever heard," said Skelton.

"I almost threw up in my mouth," added Lena.

As Rolf threw his hands up in frustration, Lena and Skelton exchanged a look, and came to an unspoken agreement.

"Fine," Lena told Rolf, whose face broke into a grin. "We accept your invitation to join the Scamander family for Christmas."

"Providing, of course," warned Skelton, "that you promise to never bring up all that friendship crap again. That's ten seconds of my life I'll never get back."

"Done," agreed Rolf, grinning unashamedly. "Well, the school will need your guardian's permission to let you go home with me, so Lena, you'll have to write to your aunt, and Maggie, you'll need to contact your..."

"Social worker?" supplied Skelton, trying to hide her amusement at Rolf's child-like glee.

"Yep, that's the one," said Rolf, beaming.

"Please tell me you're not going to remain this excited for the entire holiday period," groaned Lena. "I don't think I could deal with it."

Rolf laughed. "Sorry, that's something I can't promise."

Friday 20 December, 1991:

The evening before students left for the Christmas holidays, Lena felt restless. She had finished packing, and hadn't felt particularly hungry, so she had left dinner early. She didn't feel like reading, or practising any spells. She kept reaching dead ends when trying to figure out what Dumbledore was hiding in Hogwarts, and what Quirrell wanted it for, and at that moment, couldn't summon up the motivation to persist in her efforts.

In short, she was bored. And there were few things Lena hated more than being bored.

She flopped down on her bed. Skelton hadn't come back from dinner yet, so Lena had the dormitory to herself. She glanced at Mortimer's spot on her bedside table. He was lying on his small pile of leaves, asleep. Lena huffed, annoyed. Even her Bowtruckle had left her alone to suffer from boredom. She glanced at the clock that was also on the bedside table. 8:04pm. Lena groaned. There was no point trying to turn in for an early night, she could never get to sleep before eleven p.m..

Lena sat up. There were another two hours until curfew. 'Might as well use it,' she told herself. She changed out of her uniform skirt and tights, and into a pair of black jeans. She left her school blouse on, but removed the Slytherin tie, and pulled on her favourite sweater, a lightweight woollen black one that she had bought as a present for herself the previous Christmas. Finally, she put on a pair of ankle-boots, grabbed her wand, and left the dormitory.

The common room was about half-full. She saw Draco sitting with his two thuggish friends. The moment he noticed her, he quickly looked away. Lena quietly snorted. Even though it had been three months since their dinner-time talk, the boy's fear of her had evidently not diminished. Briefly, Lena wondered what it would have been like if she had not thoroughly rejected her cousin's offer of... of what? Friendship? A mutually beneficial arrangement? Lena shook her head as she exited the Slytherin Dungeon. It didn't matter now. The Malfoys were just one more connection to her own parents that she didn't need to endure.

For the next hour-and-a-half, Lena wandered around Hogwarts, taking many of the secrets passages throughout it that she had discovered over the past years. She wasn't arrogant enough to assume that she had discovered all the secrets of Hogwarts, but she liked to think she had found a fair amount.

A couple of times she narrowly avoided running into the caretaker Filch and his cat Mrs Norris. It was an occupational hazard of exploring Hogwarts, as was coming across the Weasley twins. Actually, the twins were the ones who were usually more startled when Lena popped up in one of the passages they were excitedly venturing through. She had learned they were creative when it came to expressing their shock verbally; 'Merlin's man-bags!' was probably her favourite.

Lena was strolling down a narrow corridor on the first-floor, when she heard a voice she had no desire to hear – Snape's. She and the Potions Master were still keeping their distance from each other; their interaction these days amounted to no more than handing in Potions projects and homework, and receiving a single letter grade (always an O) in return.

It sounded like he was talking to Filch. Wishing to avoid an awkward and potentially unpleasant encounter, Lena quickly opened the door nearest to her, and ducked through into the room behind it. She quietly closed the door, and listened, waiting for Snape and Filch's voices to disappear.

She briefly looked over her shoulder to see where she was – an unused classroom of some sort. Turning back to face the door, she did a double-take. There was something else in the classroom.

'Lumos,' she incanted in her head, and the end of her wand lit up.

It was a mirror. It was full-length, with clawed feet and a gold frame. There were some words inscribed around it, but Lena couldn't read them properly from where she was standing.

Snape and Filch's voices had faded by this point, but Lena didn't notice, her attention now focused on the mirror. Wanting to read the inscription, she moved closer to it.

Then she saw her reflection, and her wand-light went out.

But it didn't matter, because Lena could still see her reflection. It was holding something in the hand that didn't carry her wand. The sound of her thudding heart rang in her ears as Lena realised what the something was.

Hecate's Orb.

And then thoughts of the Orb evaporated. Lena had noticed that in the reflection, there was someone standing next to her, with his arm around her shoulder, and looking at her with so much pride.

Lena staggered back as if she had been punched in the gut. She couldn't breathe. She desperately gasped for air, but it wouldn't come. Turning her back on the mirror, she stumbled in the dark towards the door. The thought of casting Lumos again didn't occur to her, she was in such distress. Once she had found the door, she wrenched it open. She didn't bother to close it behind her. Instead, she sprinted to the nearest bathroom – the fact that it was Moaning Myrtle's wasn't a concern.

She didn't slow down as she reached her destination, she just slammed her body into the door to open it and ran to the nearest cubicle, ignoring Myrtle's cry of surprise. Then she threw up into the toilet.

She vomited again and again until there was nothing left in her stomach. Then she slumped to the floor, her whole body convulsing.

"Hello?" she heard Myrtle hesitantly ask from behind her. "Are... are you all right?"

Lena didn't answer. She didn't think she could have spoken even if she wanted to.

But Myrtle seemed to be unusually concerned about her health. "Do you need me to get someone? Should... should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

Desperately, Lena forced her voice into action. "No!" she rasped, finally turning around to look at the ghost, who was hovering a couple of metres behind her. "No, it's fine."

Myrtle looked doubtful. "Are you sure? You look... sick."

Wanting the ghost to leave her alone, Lena snapped back, "Really? Well, you're looking a bit peaky yourself."

Affronted, Myrtle began to say, "I'm just trying–"

"Sorry, Myrtle, but if I wanted an opinion on my health, I'd ask someone who's actually alive," interrupted Lena coldly.

Myrtle burst into ghostly tears, and zoomed out of the bathroom, wailing.

The relief at being left alone was fleeting, as the image of what she had seen in the mirror filled her mind again. The Orb had been bad enough, but seeing him...

Lena didn't know at what point the realisation had struck – she supposed it had been subconscious – but she knew what the mirror was. She had talked about it once with a Norwegian witch Aunt Valeriya had introduced her to. The Mirror of Erised, which showed the most desperate desire of a person's heart. According to witches and wizards who dealt in the business of magical artefacts, the Mirror had been lost more than a century ago, and nobody knew of its whereabouts.

And then it had just been there, in an unused classroom. Almost as if it was waiting for her.

Lena took a deep, shuddering breath, and leaned against the cubicle wall. Her whole body felt limp. Her heart was still racing, and it was like every beat was vibrating throughout her whole body. Everything just... hurt.

She wished that the Mirror was lying. But deep down, she knew it wasn't.

It had been ten years, fifty-one days, four hours and forty-seven minutes since she had last seen him. And in all that time, her heart's most desperate desire had not changed.

"I wish you were my father."

"If you were my daughter, Lena, I would be proud to be your father."