Sunday 6 September, 1992:

Sunday morning found Lena standing at the front of a classroom, facing eight of her housemates, and wondering what the hell she had got herself into.

She glanced down at her wristwatch at the precise moment the clock ticked over to ten a.m.. It was time to begin. Looking back up at the class, who were whispering to each other, she cleared her throat. Immediately, the quiet chatter ceased, and the faces of her housemates turned to her, a mix of apprehension and eagerness in their expressions.

"Right, you all know why you're here," began Lena, her confident voice easily concealing the uncertainty she felt about the whole enterprise. "You've asked me to teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts, and that's what I intend to do, to the best of my ability. But I will only do this–" she broke off when she saw that Aloysius Burke had raised his hand. "You have a question?" she asked him.

"Yeah," said Burke. "Why is he here?" He indicated with his thumb to the back of the classroom where Rolf was sitting next to Maggie on one of the desks.

Yes, Rolf was there too, having been practically dragged there by a disgruntled Maggie, and he went very still as the eyes of the rest of the Slytherins turned towards him.

"Because," said Lena matter-of-factly, "I happen to like him, the same of which I can't say about the rest of you." The heads of the Slytherins swivelled back to face Lena, who continued. "In fact, some of you downright repulse me–"

She paused when she saw Maggie giving her a tiny shake of her head, and realised this probably wasn't the best way to start the class.

She attempted to correct herself. "I mean, not many of you. Actually, it's indifference I feel, mainly. To be honest, I couldn't give less of a fuck about most of you, so I wouldn't really care if you could actually defend yourself from the Dark Arts or not..."

She trailed off. Rolf was staring at her as if she was mental, and Maggie had put her head in her hands. Lena felt a strange sense of déjà vu. It was like Christmas dinner with the Scamanders, except her and Maggie's roles had reversed.

The other Slytherins, meanwhile, were clearly affronted.

Lena ran a hand through her hair and sighed, annoyed at herself. She knew how to be charming – she had just spent so long treating her housemates with nothing but disdain that it was difficult to break the habit. But she knew she needed to if she was going to teach them anything. After all, that was why she had learned so much from Voldemort – because he had made her feel like she could.

'My role model is Lord Voldemort,' she thought. 'Well, if that isn't completely fucked up, I don't know what is.'

Taking out her wand, Lena non-verbally Summoned a spare chair from the back of the classroom. Sitting down on it, she took a deep breath, ready to start again.

"Okay," she started, in what she hoped was a less obnoxious tone, "here's the thing: I know a lot about the Dark Arts. I also know a lot about defending myself from them. And the rest of you don't. But you want to." She paused. "And I respect that."

She looked around at her housemates. Farley was watching her curiously, her head tilted. Terence Higgs and Fakhir Kahn were both leaning back in their chairs, their arms crossed as they listened to her, frowning. Flint was leaning forward on his elbow, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Burke, Thaddeus Accrington and Nicole Bletchley were all eyeing her with expressions of mingled suspicion and interest. None of them looked like they were ready to be her best friends, but at least she had their attention.

"Now, whether it's because you simply require a decent NEWT grade for whatever is your intended career after leaving Hogwarts," Lena went on, "or because you have a genuine interest in this subject isn't really important to me. What is, is that you've asked for help." She smiled wryly. "And coming from a bunch of Slytherins, that's a big decision – and a hard one – to make." She could see Rolf silently snicker at that, and was glad none of the other Slytherins could see it too. "And because you're putting all your confidences in me to teach you, I think that means I should have confidence in all of you–" she made eye contact with each Slytherin, "–as students."

The hostility in the gazes of her housemates had now lessened, replaced by a genuine interest and willingness. Encouraged by this, Lena continued, "This, then, is going to require a mutual respect between us. So, if any of you tell me that you're not getting something, I won't automatically assume that it's because your capabilities are limited and you're just not good enough to get it. I need to be self-analytical of how I teach you – after all, how can any of you learn anything if it's not been taught properly to you?"

At this, several of the Slytherins nodded.

"But," Lena pressed on, "it goes the other way too. If I ask you all to do something, you need to do it. Because I'll be asking you to do it for a reason – one that will benefit you. And if you're not sure what that reason is, just ask, and I'll explain." She looked at her housemates as earnestly as she could. "It's always important to not only know how to do something, but why to do it. That's how you get good at it."

As Lena surveyed the class, something felt odd to her. It took a moment for her to realise what it was.

The lack of fear.

"So, if that's all clear," said Lena, standing back up, "I think it's time we start today's lesson. Now, we've started working on non-verbal spells in our other subjects, so I was thinking–"

She paused upon seeing that Flint had raised his hand. A little surprised at the fact that he hadn't just called out, it took a couple of seconds for her to call on him. "Yes?"

Flint lowered his hand. "In our first lesson back, you talked about Unforgivable Curses," he said. "And you asked Lockhart if he'd ever used one."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "And?"

He was looking at her with a focus of which Lena hadn't known he was capable. "Well," he said slowly, "have you?"

Now all the class, including Maggie and Rolf, were watching her intently, but Lena didn't let anything slip past her mask of neutrality. "If what you're hoping for is a class on how to use Unforgivable Curses, Flint," she replied calmly, "this is not it."

"But have–"

She cut Flint off. "Unforgivables are highly dangerous and rightly banned by the Ministry of Magic," she said firmly. "To use them is a crime, and I have never–"

"You used the Imperius Curse."

All eyes in the classroom turned to Bletchley, whose paling face indicated that she regretted her interruption.

Lena crossed her arms and stared at Bletchley, who upon realising that Lena wasn't going to say anything at that moment, nervously cleared her throat.

"Back in, in First Year," began Bletchley hesitantly, eying an impassive Lena anxiously, "when you... wanted me and Flavia to... to... um," she scratched her neck uncomfortably, "move out of your dormitory, you..." She paused.

Behind Bletchley, Lena could see a spark of recognition in Maggie's eyes.

"There was a spider," Bletchley blurted out. "And you made it bigger, and then you made it chase us around, and... and other stuff," she finished lamely.

In her peripheral vision, Lena could see Flint and Accrington smirking, evidently amused by the story, which didn't surprise Lena.

But Bletchley was still going. "I didn't realise until Fourth Year, when we learnt about Unforgivables, that you must have been using the Imperius on the spider," she said quietly. "To make it do what you wanted."

Now, all the eyes turned back to Lena.

"Perhaps I should clarify: to use Unforgivables on another human being is a crime," said Lena smoothly, "and I have never done that. And that is all I have to say on the matter at this time." She pointed her wand at her chair, and it zoomed off to the side of the classroom. "Now," she addressed the class, "please stand up."

As they did, Lena waved her wand, and all the chairs and desks shot off in different directions, clearing the centre of the room.

"Find a partner," she instructed, "and form two opposite lines, so you're all facing your partners. We're going to practise Disarming."

"But that's Second Year stuff!" objected Accrington as he moved to stand opposite Burke.

Lena smirked. "Not when you're doing it non-verbally."

Sunday 1 November, 1992:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE

Lena stared up at the words written on the wall, illuminated by the ball of blue fire in her hand. Darkness still shrouded the hallways of Hogwarts, the torches unlit and the sun yet to rise for another hour.

The news of the ominous message and the attack on Filch's cat had spread like wildfire around the school the previous night. The atmosphere in the Slytherin common room had been particularly tense as the students discussed the legend of the Chamber and what exactly had happened to Mrs Norris – and nobody was prepared to take a definitive stance on whether the supposed reopening of the Chamber would be a good thing or not.

Except for Draco Malfoy, that was. He was quite happy to obnoxiously announce to the rest of the house his delight that 'the Mudbloods had it coming'.

Normally, Lena would see this as an acceptable reason to do something unpleasant to her cousin, but she was too preoccupied to take any immediate action. She hadn't been able to sleep at all that night, and had left the Slytherin Dungeon at the earliest time she could without breaking curfew. She couldn't recall making a conscious decision to go see the message on the wall – she had just sort of found herself there. And now, looking up at the scrawled words, she was struggling to remember a time she had felt more confused.

Not because she didn't understand what it was saying – quite the opposite. Lena knew all about the Chamber of Secrets, and what was more, she knew who the heir of Slytherin was.

Saturday 30 October, 1982:

Lena swirled her porridge around the bowl with her spoon, staring blankly ahead.

"Lena!"

Startled, Lena dropped her spoon into the bowl, splashing porridge out onto the table cloth. Her eyes snapped to where her grandmother stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, her arms folded and a frown on her face. She was staring at Lena.

"I've been calling your name for the last twenty seconds," Irina told her granddaughter.

"Sorry," muttered Lena, standing up to find a cloth to clean up the mess she had made. Before she could take a step, Irina drew her wand out of her pocket, and flicked it at the tablecloth.

"Scourgify," she said impatiently, and the spilt porridge disappeared.

Lena dropped back into her chair with a thud. "Thank you," she mumbled, staring at her breakfast.

Irina narrowed her eyes, and sat down in the chair directly opposite to Lena. "What on earth is the matter with you today?" she asked. "You got up two hours later than usual, and you look like someone kicked your kneazle." She leaned forward, scrutinising Lena. "Are you ill?"

Lena shook her head.

"So what is it?" demanded Irina.

Lena opened her mouth to tell her grandmother it didn't matter, but stopped. She could tell by Irina's expression that this wasn't something she was letting go. In the past year, Lena had discovered her grandmother had an annoying habit of taking an interest in Lena's wellbeing only at the times when Lena most wanted to be left alone.

So she sighed, and said softly, "It's been a whole year."

Irina raised her eyebrows, confused. "A whole year since what?"

Lena stared at Irina as if she was an idiot. "Since I last saw Him," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She looked back down at her porridge, adding sadly, "It's a year today."

Her grandmother didn't immediately respond, but Lena could feel Irina's eyes on her.

After a few seconds of silence, Lena reached for her spoon, but halted the motion when Irina suddenly spoke.

"The Dark Lord is gone, Lena."

Without looking up at her, Lena replied in a slow, controlled voice, "You don't know that. Not for sure."

"You said it yourself," said Irina. "It's been a whole year. The war is over." She paused for a moment, before adding quietly, "You need to move on."

Lena's head reared up, and Irina slightly recoiled upon seeing her granddaughter's cold, angry expression.

"Don't you dare," hissed Lena, gripping the edge of the table, "tell me to 'move on'. I am not going to 'move on' from thinking about the one person who has ever..." She swallowed. "Who ever..."

Abruptly, she stood up, shoving her chair back, and turned to exit the kitchen.

"Lena, wait."

For a second, Lena thought she would ignore her grandmother and continue her dramatic exit. But there was something in her grandmother's tone, something both earnest and conciliatory, that made her turn back around.

She glared at Irina, crossing her arms. "What?"

Her grandmother gazed back at her for a few moments, before saying, "Maybe you're right."

Lena's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Irina sighed, smoothing back her greying hair. "It is possible," she said slowly, "that the Dark Lord is not entirely... gone. Perhaps he is..." she hesitated, before finishing, "simply waiting." She began to absentmindedly tap her fingers against the table. "After all, he could always perform the most astonishing feats of magic," she remarked, more to herself than to Lena. "Even when we were just Hogwarts students."

It took a moment for Irina's words to sink in, and when they did, Lena's eyes widened. "Wait, you were at Hogwarts with him?" she asked, stunned.

When Irina nodded, Lena retook her seat.

"So you knew him?" she pressed on, excitement rising inside her. "You talked to him, and–"

"He was in the year above," Irina explained. "But we were both in Slytherin. Of course, he went by a different name then."

That made sense to Lena. She had never thought Voldemort was his given name – it seemed like something he would have chosen for himself. And as far as she knew, there weren't any Wizarding 'lords'.

A burning curiosity filled her. "What was his name?"

"Riddle," said Irina. "Tom Riddle." She was watching Lena closely, trying to gage her reaction.

Lena thought it over for a few moments. Finally, she said, "Riddle's not a Wizarding name, is it?"

"No," answered Irina, her tone measured. "It's not."

Lena slowly nodded to herself. "Well," she said after a long pause, "that actually makes quite a bit of sense."

Irina's eyebrows flew up, clearly shocked. "Why do you say that?"

Shrugging, Lena replied, "If he'd had an old Wizarding name, why would he have chosen a new one? Wouldn't he want to make his connections to families like ours more apparent?"

Irina gazed at her granddaughter. "That's rather clever of you, to think of that."

Acknowledging the compliment with a brief smile, another thought occurred to Lena. "But he does have a connection to an old bloodline, doesn't he? He's descended from Salazar Slytherin."

Yet again, Lena surprised her grandmother. "How do you know that?" asked Irina, frowning.

"He told me. And he showed me."

"Showed you?"

"That he's a Parselmouth," clarified Lena. "Didn't you know?"

Irina snorted. "Oh, I know. You see, Julius, your grandfather – my husband – was the same year as him. And of course, at first Julius didn't want anything to do with this boy with no Wizarding name. But then Riddle spoke it – Parseltongue, I mean. In front of the other boys in his dormitory. So they knew he couldn't just be a Mudblood, or any ordinary half-blood. And when they saw the kind of power he was capable of–"

"What do you mean by that?" interrupted Lena. "You said before that he performed 'astonishing feats of magic'. Like what?"

Irina dismissively waved her hand. "Oh, lots of things. He always mastered spells before anyone else, and even started inventing new ones as he got older. But I suppose it was in his Fifth Year that we really began to discover the true extent of his power. And by 'we', I mean those of us in his inner circle."

Lena cocked her head. "You were in his inner circle?" Her voice was full of disbelief.

With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Irina amended her statement. "Well, Julius was. And because we were together by that time, Julius would always tell me about Riddle." She smiled wryly. "He was in awe of him, you see. They all were."

Lena nodded. She found that very easy to believe. "But what happened in their Fifth Year?"

"He opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"The what?"

"The Chamber of Secrets," repeated Irina, and told Lena the legend of Slytherin's monster, and how Riddle had unleashed it, resulting in the death of a Muggle-born girl.

After she had finished, Lena furrowed her brow. "And nobody knew it was Voldemort?"

"Apart from those of us who knew of his ancestry? No. The rest of the school knew Tom Riddle as a poor orphan and a star pupil. In fact, he became known as the boy who caught the monster, not controlled it." She saw Lena's questioning look, and explained, "The death of the girl was blamed on another creature being secretly kept in the castle by a Third Year boy. Riddle had found out about this other creature, you see, and knew it would be a perfect scapegoat if he needed one. So he told the Headmaster about this boy and the creature, and everyone was told that the culprit had been found." She snorted. "Riddle even got an award for 'Special Services to the School', or something like that. And only the half-a-dozen or so of us ever knew the truth."

"What happen to the boy who everyone else blamed?" inquired Lena. "And did you ever find out what kind of creature Slytherin's monster is?"

"The boy was expelled," Irina told Lena, "and no, we never found out. But I imagine it's still there at Hogwarts, hidden away in the Chamber."

"But Voldemort's the only one who can release it," observed Lena. "Because he's the last of Slytherin's line."

"Yes," agreed Irina. "And if he is truly gone – which I'm not saying he is," she hastily added upon seeing Lena's glare, "then the Chamber of Secrets is closed forever."

Now Lena knew for sure Voldemort was not gone. But she was also pretty damn sure he wasn't back at Hogwarts. She found it difficult to believe that Dumbledore would miss Voldemort right under his nose two years in a row.

But then who could have opened the Chamber of Secrets? Was somebody at Hogwarts a distant cousin of Voldemort, an unknown descendant of Slytherin? She was struggling to find another plausible possibility.

There was a sudden tightening in her navel as a thought occurred to her. He couldn't have had a child, could he? A secret heir to the Dark Lord? The very thought that there could be someone at Hogwarts who could call Voldemort their father made Lena simultaneously want to vomit and punch something very hard.

'No,' she told herself vehemently. 'There's no way he had a child. He wouldn't.'

She closed her eyes and did her best to shove the unwelcome thought to the deep recesses of her mind. Only when she had achieved this at an adequate level did she open her eyes again, the words on the wall being the first thing she saw.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. It looked like this was going to be another year of questions and unease on her mind.

Lena glanced at her watch. There were still several hours until her DADA class with the Slytherins and Rolf would begin. She had to admit to herself that the whole idea was going better than she had expected. Her classmates could now do non-verbal basic defence spells with relative ease, and they were progressing well with the more complicated hexes and jinxes she'd been teaching them, even Flint. She had been planning to start looking at some of the Dark creatures they had never learned about in their previous years in the next few weeks.

Now, however, she had a feeling that after the events of last night, she might need to adjust the lesson plan for today.

Wednesday 16 December, 1992:

The first thing Lena noticed when she woke up was that she was still wearing her school uniform and shoes. Groggily, she sat up and looked around, and saw that Mortimer was staring at her from the bedside table. Next to him was a note.

Yawning a hello to the Bowtruckle, she picked up the note.

You passed out again, and were lying on the floor when I came in after dinner. I levitated you onto the bed. You were still out cold when I woke up this morning, so I figured I probably shouldn't wake you. Don't worry, I promise to pay attention in class so I can tell you what you miss.

Maggie's handwriting was even messier than usual, so Lena assumed she'd woken up late and had been in a rush.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. It was the first time since beginning the new school year that she'd passed out like that. But since the opening of the Chamber and subsequent attack on a First Year Muggle-born, her sleeping habits had returned to their damaging state.

She tried to recall the previous night. She could remember beginning to feel lightheaded during dinner, and recognising that as the sign of imminent unconsciousness, had left the Great Hall and made her way straight back to the Slytherin Dungeon, desperate not to pass out in a corridor where anyone could find her. She couldn't actually remember arriving at her dormitory, but apparently she had done so.

Her watch read 9:47am, which Lena thought wasn't too bad. So far, she had only missed Ancient Runes. She could make it to the next subject.

Then she remembered that the next subject was Defence Against the Dark Arts.

'On the other hand,' thought Lena, 'I could probably do with a shower and some breakfast.'

Leaving the kitchens after a filling breakfast of croissants and fruit specially prepared for her by Tizzy the house-elf, Lena decided to just go straight back to her dormitory to finish an Arithmancy essay due the next day. There were still fifteen minutes left of DADA, but she couldn't be bothered to go. An extended spare period seemed like a better use of time.

Thinking about what would be a nice, punchy ending to her essay, Lena was just about to descend the staircase leading to the dungeons when she was snapped out of her thoughts by someone calling out her name.

"Miss Lestrange!"

Lena spun around to see Professor McGonagall prowling towards her, and couldn't help but be reminded of the Transfiguration teacher's Animagus.

She fixed a pleasant smile on her face. "Professor, how may I help you?"

Coming to stop about a metre away from her, McGonagall ever-so-slightly narrowed her eyes. "You can tell me why you're wandering the corridors instead of attending your Defence Against the Dark Arts class."

Lena quirked an eyebrow, a little surprised. "That's very impressive, Professor."

McGonagall's brow creased. "What is?"

"To know what subject I'm supposed to be in right now," said Lena. "Have you memorised every student's timetable?"

McGonagall snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Lestrange." She folded her arms, fixing Lena with a disapproving stare. "I happen to know where you should be right now because I've just come from your class."

Lena couldn't stop the corners of her lips turning up. "And I assume you were in our class for some administrative reason, and not because our dear Defence professor has yet again released some sort of not-especially-threatening-but-quite-irritating-and-potentially-destructive magical creature?"

"No." There was a pregnant pause before McGonagall said flatly, "It was a mispronounced spell and a lot of temporarily blinded students this time."

Lena smiled sweetly. "Professor Lockhart really is a marvel."

"Yes," said McGonagall through gritted teeth. "He really is."

For a moment, something unspoken passed between Lena and Professor McGonagall, some kind of shared sympathy; a 'Yes, I can't believe we have to put up with that imbecile either'.

The moment passed when McGonagall cleared her throat. "Anyhow, I believe I asked you, Miss Lestrange, why you weren't in class."

"I'm afraid I overslept, Professor," said Lena. "And instead of going to Defence Against the Dar Arts, I thought my time would be better spent by eating breakfast and working on an assignment for another subject."

McGonagall blinked. "I see," she said finally. "Well, thank you for your... honesty, Lestrange, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to–"

"Put me in detention," finished Lena, nodding sagely. "I understand, Professor. What time would suit you best?"

McGonagall eyed her strangely. When at last she did speak, it was a sudden change of topic. "Your friends Miss Skelton and Mr Scamander did very well in their OWLs."

This time it was Lena's turn to be wrong-footed. "I– I beg your pardon?"

"They did very well in their OWLs," repeated McGonagall. "Much better than I was expecting – in all their subjects."

Lena was still flummoxed. "Erm, yes, I suppose they did."

McGonagall took a step closer to Lena. "I wonder, Lestrange, what, after four years, could be the catalyst for this remarkable sudden improvement in their academic work?" She paused. "You received Outstanding on all your OWLs, did you not, Miss Lestrange?"

Still trying to wrap her head around what was happening, Lena nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"A wonderful achievement," remarked McGonagall with a thin-lipped smile. "I do believe I haven't offered you my congratulations on it yet."

"Oh, well–"

"Congratulations, Miss Lestrange. Very well done."

"Er, thank you?" Lena inwardly cringed as it came out more as a question than an acknowledgement.

"Now, about this detention–"

'Merlin,' thought Lena, 'I think I'm getting conversational whiplash.'

"–Tomorrow evening, Professor Lockhart has decided to hold a meeting for a Duelling Club."

'Seriously, what the fuck is going on?'

"Professor Snape has offered to help supervise," continued McGonagall, seemingly oblivious to Lena's confused, internal dialogue, "but what with the... present situation Hogwarts is facing, I assume there will be a large number of students attending."

"Naturally," interjected Lena, attempting to appear as though she perfectly understood what McGonagall was getting at.

"All those young students, learning basic offensive and defensive spells – I'm sure you understand my concerns."

"Oh, I'm sure I do."

"Excellent. I will inform Professor Snape you'll be assisting him with the supervision, then."

"Right. Sorry, what?"

It was uncanny how similar McGonagall's smile was to the one Lena had given her when she'd first turned around. "That is how you will be serving your detention, Miss Lestrange. Supervising the Duelling Club tomorrow evening."

Lena struggled to conceal an aghast expression. Teaching her housemates was one thing, but younger students? Not to mention she would be working with Snape, who still clearly despised her, even though it had been over a year since she'd trashed his office.

"But Professor, surely that's not really equivalent to a detention," Lena tried to reason, but McGonagall stopped her.

"Nonsense, Lestrange. I believe that your – what was that so eloquent phrase you used earlier? Ah, yes – your time would be better spent helping your Head of House and fellow students instead of writing lines, or some other standard detention activity."

Lena stared at the Transfiguration teacher, who was looking back at her with an expression that seemed to be daring Lena to keep arguing with her, and Lena couldn't help but feel an admiration for McGonagall. It had become such a rare experience for someone to put Lena on the back foot, and McGonagall had done it almost effortlessly.

So she gave in. "Of course, Professor."

"Good," said McGonagall, the air of satisfaction hard to miss. "I look forward to hearing from Professor Snape about your invaluable assistance." She turned around and began to stride away.

Lena stared at her retreating back, then called out, "So, do I go to Defence, or..."

McGonagall slowed down, and looked back over her shoulder. "I'll leave that up to your discretion, Miss Lestrange." She turned a corner, disappearing from view.

'Well,' thought Lena, staring at the spot where she'd last seen McGonagall, 'that happened.'

The next evening found Lena in the Great Hall, watching the arrival of young students who were nervous and excited to learn about the art of duelling. Most of them looked to be in the First, Second and Third Years.

Lena internally sighed. Considering the fact that many of these kids had only had Quirrell and Lockhart for DADA teachers, she couldn't really see this going well. Now she understood why McGonagall had wanted an extra wand and pair of eyes there this evening.

It had taken her a few hours, but Lena also thought she understood why McGonagall had decided that Lena should be that extra supervisor. Clearly, McGonagall had figured out that Lena had started helping Maggie and Rolf with their schoolwork and this, combined with the fact that there hadn't been an incident with another student since her Fourth Year, meant that the Professor probably thought that Lena had turned over a new leaf, or something like that, and that trusting her with this extra responsibility was an effort to nurture this improved version of Lena.

Or McGonagall just really didn't like Lena, and had correctly assumed that making her babysit a bunch of kids and an incompetent buffoon of a teacher was a way to make her miserable.

Lena was in a corner of the Hall, leaning against the wall opposite to the side where a golden stage had been erected. Most of the kids were too distracted by the change of layout and the stage to notice her presence, although she had received a few curious looks.

Neville Longbottom had also seen her. They had locked eyes for a second, before he had quickly looked away and moved to stand on the opposite side of the Hall.

Now, another newcomer caught Lena's eye: Harry Potter. He was with his two friends, Weasley and Granger. It was the latter of them who noticed Lena first. In response, Lena raised an eyebrow and gave her a sarcastic little wave. Granger hastily averted her eyes, and nudged Potter, whispering something to him. He immediately turned to look at Lena. Even from across the Hall, Lena could sense the curiosity radiating off him.

They hadn't spoken since that time in Knockturn Alley. As far as she could tell, he hadn't made any effort to speak to her again, and Lena had likewise kept her distance, even though the fact that a rogue bludger had seemingly attempted to murder him during the Gryffindor-Slytherin game had been incredibly intriguing to her.

She maintained eye contact with Potter until he was pulled by his friends into the crowd of students gathering before the stage, and decided that she was definitely going to make a special effort to 'supervise' his attempts at duelling.

She was drawn out of her Potter-ponderings by Lockhart and Snape making their way onto the stage. Snape appeared to be searching the audience for someone in particular. When his eyes met Lena's, she realised that it was her. Lena returned his gaze with a cool indifference, wondering how much of a protest he had put up against McGonagall when she had informed him of Lena's 'punishment'.

They both broke their eye contact when Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

"Merlin give me strength," muttered Lena to herself as Lockhart continued his introductory speech. A whole evening with Lockhart and Snape. What joy.

Snape clearly wasn't having a ball either. Lena watched with mild amusement as his upper lip curled when Lockhart referred to him as his assistant.

They were starting off with a demonstration of a duel, although Lena couldn't imagine it was going to be a particularly good demonstration on Lockhart's end.

The two teachers turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course. One – two – three–"

Both of them swung their wands up and over their shoulders. Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: he flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Lena cocked her head, almost impressed. That was some Disarming Charm – certainly one with a bit of pent-up anger behind it.

Whispers and titters ran through the crowd of students as Lockhart unsteadily rose to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I've lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Lena wondered if Lockhart knew Snape had once been a Death Eater, and if not, whether he might consider being a little less of a prick to him if someone were to mention it.

She didn't have much time to dwell on it, because Lockhart and Snape had started to partner up the students. She saw Snape reach Potter and his friends, and then call over Malfoy and another Slytherin. He partnered her cousin with Potter.

'Well, this I have to see,' thought Lena, and pushed herself off the wall and began to slowly walk towards the crowd of students.

But Lockhart, who had climbed back onto the platform, noticed her movement, and decided this would be the perfect time to officially announce her presence.

"Ah, yes, before we begin," he called out, "as well as Professor Snape and myself, I'd also like to introduce Miss Lestrange of the Sixth Year!" He waved a hand towards Lena, and every face in the hall turned to her.

Lena came to a stop. For the briefest of moments she considered giving them all a reassuring smile, but decided against this, and instead went for her usual emotionless mask and a nod of acknowledgement.

"Miss Lestrange," continued Lockhart, with an unusually forced smile, "is also here to assist, and if you should feel the need for help, just give her a shout, you'll find she's very..." he looked at Lena for a moment, and swallowed, "capable."

She could still feel many pairs of eyes on her. Potter and Malfoy were just a few yards away from her. Potter's expression was curious; Malfoy's was suspicious.

"Now," cried Lockhart, drawing the attention of the room back to him, "face your partners, and bow!"

Lena watched as Potter and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other. She wondered what exactly had gone down between the two of them in the past year and a bit to spring up such an intense dislike and distrust.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent – only to disarm them – we don't want any accidents."

Lena stared up in disbelief at Lockhart. Seriously? He thought that one demonstration of him getting blasted off the stage with a ridiculously overpowered Expelliarmus was all a bunch of children needed to learn how to duel, and was now just going to let them have at it? She looked across to Snape, but he didn't seem particularly concerned by the prospect of horrifically injured students.

Meanwhile, Lockhart was counting them in. "One... two..."

'Oh, sweet mother of Merlin,' Lena thought to herself before all hell broke loose.

The young Malfoy had already starting casting his spell on 'two', so by the time Lockhart reached 'three', his spell had hit Potter, who stumbled back. Around them, Lena could see that Granger had successfully Disarmed a Slytherin girl – who due to her troll-like resemblance, Lena assumed was related to the Bulstrode in her year – but the girl didn't seem particularly perturbed by the loss of her wand, and instead barrelled towards Granger, who was clearly not expecting this tactic and stared at her opponent, stunned, as she crashed into her.

Raising her wand to separate the girls, Lena suddenly sensed a misaimed Flipendo coming her way and dropped to the ground. It flew over her, mere inches above her head. She looked in the direction from where it came, and saw it had been cast by Longbottom's partner, a Hufflepuff boy, who didn't even have to move to avoid the feeble stream of sparks sent in his vague direction by Longbottom.

Getting back to her feet, Lena noticed that Potter had hit Malfoy with a Tickling Charm, and for some idiotic reason was just standing there, watching his opponent kneel on the floor, hysterically laughing. An explosion coming somewhere from her left distracted her from their duel. After a second, she found the source of the explosion – Weasley's wand, which appeared to be held together by a wad of Spell-o-tape. His partner, another Gryffindor boy, was staggering back, shell-shocked.

Concerned about what else that broken wand might do, Lena moved to confiscate it, but stopped when Weasley lowered his wand and ran over to help the other boy. What was a more pressing matter, she decided, was that Granger's opponent had her in a headlock, and looked like she would snap the Gryffindor's neck at any moment. Hurriedly, Lena flicked her wand at them and the two girls were pulled apart by an invisible force.

She could hear Lockhart screaming, "Stop! Stop!"

'Oh, that's super helpful!' thought Lena angrily, turning to Potter who was maniacally dancing. Malfoy was watching him malevolently, although the effect was somewhat spoiled by his shrieks of laughter.

She saw Snape standing on the opposite side of Potter and Malfoy's duel, and their eyes locked. Snape gave her a curt nod, which was all the instruction Lena needed.

Together, they raised their wands and shouted, "Finite Incantatem!"

Potter's feet stopped dancing and Malfoy stopped laughing; they both looked around at the scene of pandemonium surrounding them, as did Lena. She noticed that above the students there was a haze of greenish smoke.

Then she heard the voice of the moron who had green-lit the whole mess.

"Dear, dear. Up you get, Macmillian... careful there, Miss Fawcett... pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot..."

Lena glared at Lockhart as he weaved in and out of the crowd. He saw Lena, and raised his voice.

"Really, Miss Lestrange, I thought you were here to prevent this sort of thing from happening."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Snape stiffen. He opened his mouth to say something to Lockhart, but Lena beat him to it.

"Well, Professor," she said, her voice venomous enough to match the rest of her cobra-ready-to-strike demeanour, "I thought you were here to teach these students how to defend themselves, not to get thrown against a wall like an utterly useless twat. So I guess this evening didn't live up to either of our expectations."

The entirety of the Great Hall was silent now as they stared at Lena in fascination, having never seen a student address a teacher in such a manner.

Lockhart spluttered in indignation. "Miss – Miss Lestrange, th-that is quite–"

"I have a suggestion, Professor," said Lena over the top of him, making her way to the stage. "Why don't we continue with your preferred method of demonstration: I'll send a lot of hexes and jinxes your way, and you can get hit by them–"

"I think," interrupted Snape loudly, "that a better idea might be to teach the students how to block those spells."

"Yes!" cried Lockhart hastily. "Yes, excellent, let's do that."

Lena, stopping at the foot of the stage, turned to Lockhart, baring her teeth in a predatory smile. "Yes, let's do that."

Lockhart took one look at Lena's face, and panic-stricken, shouted in desperation, "How about a volunteer pair – Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over to him. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox."

Personally, Lena thought – after witnessing their duel and the quality of the boys' aims – that Finch-Fletchley probably would have been the safest person in the room if he was the one Neville was trying to hit.

"How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, obviously relieved that he'd avoided being Lena's target practice.

Lena, on the other hand, felt like a small child whose Christmas present had just been confiscated.

Lockhart gestured to Potter and Malfoy to move into the middle of the Hall. The crowd backed away to give them room. Lena unapologetically pushed her way to the centre of the room, reaching Potter just as Lockhart was telling him, "Now, Harry, when Draco points his wand at you, you do this." He raised his wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action and dropped it.

"Yes, Potter," said Lena, and the boy turned to look up at her, surprised. "Drop your wand at the beginning of the duel, that's a brilliant defensive manoeuvre."

Lockhart, who was picking up his wand, glared up at her. "Obviously, I didn't–"

"I think Potter might want advice on how to defend himself from someone who hasn't been thrown into a wall today, Professor," said Lena coolly.

"Yes please," said Potter quickly.

Lockhart made a small, huffing noise, and moved so he was an equal distance away from both boys.

Snape was eyeing Lena with distrust, and moved closer to Malfoy, who couldn't disguise his anger that his cousin was offering help to his mortal enemy.

While Snape was bending down and whispering something in Malfoy's ear, Potter asked her, "So, what do I do?"

"You point your wand directly at him, and say Expelliarmus in a clear, loud voice," Lena told him quietly. "And you say with it confidence." A thought occurred to her. "Actually, you hate that little git, don't you?" She indicated to Malfoy, who was smirking at Potter, with a jerk of her head.

Potter raised his eyebrows. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"When you're casting the spell, think about how much you despise him," murmured Lena. "The stronger an emotion, the stronger the effect of a spell."

Potter appeared to be intrigued by this, and opened his mouth to ask another question, but was distracted when Malfoy called over to him, "Scared?"

Potter glared back at him. "You wish."

Seeing that Lockhart was about to begin the countdown, Lena stepped away from Potter. "Good luck," she muttered to him.

"Thanks," he said out of the corner of his mouth, not taking his eyes off Malfoy.

Lockhart shouted, "Three – two – one – go!"

Both boys raised their wands at the same time, but before Potter could get the word out, Malfoy had bellowed, "Serpentsortia!"

Shocked, Lena gave Snape a sharp look. The Snake Summoning Charm was something older students taught to younger Slytherins at the end of their First Year, a sort of rite-of-passage, initiation thing, and also a reward for making it through their first year in the Snakes' nest.

But casting it here, in front of so many students from other houses, while there was a school-wide panic about Slytherin's monster prowling around the school, seemed like an incredibly stupid thing to do. But Snape was too busy watching Potter's horrified face to notice Lena looking at him.

She frowned. There was no way she was imagining it – Snape was clearly getting a kick out of Potter's fear. She pointed her wand towards the long black snake which lay in-between the two duellers, raising itself to strike, causing screams from the crowd as the students backed away swiftly.

Before she could cast the spell to get rid of the snake, Snape suddenly spoke up.

"Don't move, Potter," he said lazily as Potter stood motionless, eye to eye with an angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

Then the next worse thing to the snake killing Potter happened –

"Allow me!"

Both Lena and Snape's eyes snapped to Lockhart.

"Don't–" snarled Lena, but she was too late – the Defence teacher brandished his wand and there was a loud bang: the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight towards the Finch-Fletchley boy, and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Now that the snake had come to a halt, Lena was able to get a clear shot at it. But yet again she was interrupted – but by something she would never, ever have expected.

It had been twelve years since she had last heard the language spoken, but what came of out Potter's mouth was unmistakably Parseltongue.

The snake immediately slumped to the floor, its eyes now on Potter.

Lena stared disbelievingly at the Boy-Who-Lived as he grinned at Finch-Fletchley.

'How?' was all she could think. 'How the fuck is he a Parselmouth?'

"What do you think you're playing at?" shouted Finch-Fletchley, pulling Lena out of her stupor. She frowned, watching the boy storm out of the Hall.

Potter's expression was bewildered, and for some reason, of all people, he turned to look at Lena in his confusion. "What... I don't–"

Meanwhile, Snape had stepped forward. He waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of smoke, all the while looking at Potter with a shrewd and calculating look. Ominous muttering came from all around, and Lena made a split decision. She subtly pointed her wand upward, and made a non-verbal incantation.

A thick, opaque, dark blue smoke sudden filled the Hall, making it impossible to see anything. Screams of panic started up, but Lena paid them no heed, moving straight towards where she knew Potter to be, and grabbed the back of his robes. As Snape shouted out for everyone to remain calm, Lena muttered to Potter, "Come on."

Potter made no reply as Lena pushed him forward, maintaining a grip on his robes, and made a beeline for the teachers' entrance of the Great Hall.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) I'm significantly condensing CoS because I'm sure most of you would like to get to PoA and finally see Remus. I promise I haven't lured you here under false pretenses - he is going to be the other main character of this story. Once he's in it. Which will happen. Soon.