It was very nearly midnight, but the torches hanging from the walls of the first-floor corridor were still lit. Sitting a few metres away from the entrance to Professor McGonagall's office, with her back against the wall, her legs outstretched and ankles crossed, was Lena.

Inside the office, Harry was talking to Dumbledore, no doubt trying to get some answers from the Headmaster about what had transpired in the Chamber of Secrets. Lena idly wondered if he'd find them. She was hoping that Dumbledore might be able to give her some. Or rather, she had a theory which she was dreading Dumbledore would confirm.

After Harry had destroyed the diary, Ginny had woken up, ashamed and tearful. It had been clear that there was much Harry wanted to ask Lena, but they'd put that all aside, their focus on calming down Ginny and getting out of the Chamber. On the way out, they had met up with Ron and Lockhart – who, to Lena's surprise and amusement, had accidentally Modified his own memory and didn't have a clue who he was. Ron hadn't reacted well to seeing Lena, but an assurance of her innocence from Harry had left the youngest Weasley boy still wary, but less opposed to her presence.

However, the continued presence of the phoenix – Fawkes, Harry called him – proved to be a godsend, as it turned out the entrance to the Chamber was a steep, long slide. And as phoenixes could carry extreme weights, Fawkes had simply flown them all back up to the bathroom. He had then led the dishevelled group to McGonagall's office, where not only the Transfiguration teacher and Dumbledore had been inside, but Ginny and Ron's parents too.

Lena had let Harry tell the story, only speaking up when asked about how she had ended up in the Chamber too. Mr and Mrs Weasley had been so concerned about Ginny that they hadn't been inquisitive about why the heir of Slytherin had wanted Lena, but she could tell that Dumbledore and McGonagall were certainly curious. Eventually, Dumbledore had sent all the Weasleys and Lockhart to the hospital wing, and McGonagall to the kitchens to ask the house-elves to prepare a midnight feast for the school in celebration of the Basilisk's victims waking up.

Seeing that Dumbledore had wanted to speak privately to Harry, Lena had asked if she could have a word with the Headmaster after they had finished. That had been about three minutes ago. Tapping her fingers absentmindedly on the floor, Lena wondered how much longer they were going to be.

She was pulled from her musings by the sound of fast-approaching footsteps. Her first thought was that it was McGonagall returning from the kitchens, but then an unexpected figure turned around the corner.

Lucius Malfoy.

Lena had seen him at a distance in Knockturn Alley a few times over the last few years, but it had been over eleven years since they'd last been face-to-face. As the distance between them lessened, she noted that he appeared to have barely aged since then.

Lucius, on the other hand, took a few seconds longer to recognise her. When he finally did, he came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the corridor, staring at her, wide-eyed.

She was surprised he had recognised her at all. Looking up at him with a pleasant smile, Lena greeted him quietly. "Hello, Lucius."

As Lucius struggled to find his voice, Lena finally realised he wasn't alone – a little behind, peering at her curiously, stood a house-elf.

"Lena," said Lucius at last. "I didn't..." He swallowed. "Well, you've grown."

"Not a particularly startling revelation, I'm sure," said Lena wryly. "But I am surprised you actually recognised me."

There was an awkward pause before Lucius replied, "There's something of a resemblance. " He didn't need to say to who, and Lena found she was glad for the omission. A slight frown appeared on his face. "What are doing here?"

Lena quirked an eyebrow. "I'm a student."

Lucius huffed. "I know that," he said impatiently. "I meant why–"

"I know what you meant," interrupted Lena. "I'm waiting to speak to the Headmaster." She indicated to McGonagall's office with her thumb.

His eyes narrowed at the office's door. "Dumbledore's here?"

"Yes," answered Lena, "but he's with someone at the moment. I take it you're here on governors' business?"

Lucius' eyes flicked back to her. "Correct," he said. "Why–"

"I see avoiding Azkaban has done wonders for your complexion."

The former Death Eater went rigid. "What?" he hissed.

Lena gave him a small shrug. "I'm just saying you look well," she said neutrally. "Not passing any judgement. How's Narcissa?"

"She's well," he said stiffly, clearly still mistrustful of Lena. He pursed his lips, and Lena could tell he was considering whether to tell her something. She patiently waited for him to continue. Eventually, he said, "She was... concerned about you, when Irina took you."

Lena stared at him incredulously. "Yes," she retorted, "her concern was so evident when she arrived at the house as soon as the news broke that my parents had been arrested. Oh, wait, that's right – she didn't."

Lucius' face became flushed. "We were trying to–"

"Put as much distance between Voldemort and yourselves as you could," interrupted Lena, ignoring the way he flinched when she said his old master's name. "I know." She sighed, rubbing her neck. "And I don't blame you," she continued in a softer voice. "You had an infant son to think about. His future was your priority. I get it."

The anger and suspicion in Lucius' expression ebbed away, and was replaced by what Lena could only describe as genuine sympathy."We thought that after the Ministry had found you and talked to you, that we would have been granted custody," he said quietly. "And we would have taken you in." He held her gaze for a few seconds, and Lena was surprised to see that there was almost a warmth in Lucius' usually cold grey eyes. "We wanted to. Your grandmother just got to you first."

Lena looked back up at him for a long moment, then extended her hand. After a brief hesitation, Lucius clasped the offered hand, and helped pull Lena up from the floor.

Steadying herself, she gave Lucius a small smile. "I think it probably all turned out for the best," she admitted.

Lucius nodded slowly. "Perhaps it did."

Looking behind him, Lena noticed the house-elf was still standing there, and had been watching their exchange with a great deal of interest. A name floated to the forefront of her mind. "It's Dobby, isn't it?" she asked the creature. She vaguely recalled seeing him a few times in her early childhood.

The house-elf's large green eyes widened. "Yes, Miss Lena," he said, hastily bowing his head. "Dobby is very honoured Miss Lena remembers his name."

Before Lena could respond, Lucius cut in. "You didn't tell me why you're here to speak with Dumbledore."

"About what took place in the Chamber of Secrets earlier today."

Lucius looked at her sharply. Just as he opened his mouth to inquire further, the door to McGonagall's office swung open. Harry stood on the threshold, and upon seeing Lucius, his eyes widened in shock.

Lena frowned. No, it wasn't Lucius' appearance that had stunned him. It was Dobby's.

'Perhaps he's never seen a house-elf before,' she mused.

A sneer, meanwhile, had manifested on Lucius' face. "Mr Potter. What a surprise," he drawled, striding towards the door. Dobby quickly followed behind, but Lena remained where she was, leaning against the wall.

As Lucius entered the office, she heard him addressing the Headmaster, "So, you've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

As the door remained open, Lena listened to the subsequent conversation with mild fascination. She wasn't particularly surprised to find out that Lucius had blackmailed the other governors to suspend Dumbledore. What was more surprising was to discover that it was Lucius who had planted Riddle's diary in Ginny's possession in the first place. She winced slightly when she thought about how Voldemort was going to react when he eventually found out that Lucius had unknowingly set in motion the destruction of one of his Horcruxes.

And when Lucius came storming out of the office (after kicking Dobby out first), Lena said as much to him. "He's going to be pissed," she murmured as he reached her.

Lucius stopped abruptly. "What are you talking about?" he hissed, warily glancing back at the office.

Lena tapped her fingers against the wall nonchalantly. "Giving away that diary to indulge your own personal vendetta," she said. "He's going to be so pissed off." She shrugged. "Then again, he probably never told you what it really was, so it's at least partly his own fault."

Closing the distance so there were merely inches between their faces, Lucius whispered furiously, "The Dark Lord is gone! He has been for almost twelve years!"

Lena gave him her twisted smile. "Oh, you so badly want that to be true, don't you?" she breathed. "That would make things so much easier for you." She dropped the smile. "Grow up, Lucius," she whispered harshly. "Do you really think that someone who could do the things he did would die so easily?" Without warning, she seized his left forearm, right where she knew the faint outline of his Dark Mark remained. "He's coming back, and you need to start considering your options for when he does." She leaned in closer, and whispered in his ear, "For your son's sake, if not your own."

Then Lena shoved him away, releasing her grip. Lucius stumbled back, staring at her with a mixture of fury and fear. Wordlessly, he turned and stalked off down the corridor. Just as he was about to turn the corner, Harry burst out of the office, calling, "Mr Malfoy!"

Lucius spun back around just as Harry reached him. "What do–" he began to snarl, before he was cut off by the boy.

"I've got something for you," said Harry, forcing an object into his hand.

Lena furrowed her brow. It looked like Riddle's diary, but there was something else on it as well.

"What the– ?" Lucius ripped the something else off and threw it aside. Dobby caught it, and stared at it in wonder.

Just as Lena realised what it was, Lucius softly said to Harry, "You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter. They were meddlesome fools too." He turned to go. "Come, Dobby. I said, come!"

But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up a slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.

And Lena would have bet all the money in her Gringotts vault that if Harry were to hold up his trouser legs at that moment, only one of his feet would be sock-clad.

"Master has given Dobby a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."

"What's that?" spat Lucius. "What did you say?"

Lena held up a hand to cover her mouth, struggling to contain the laughter that she was afraid might escape her.

"Dobby has got a sock," said Dobby in disbelief. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby – Dobby is free."

Lucius stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at Harry.

"You've cost me my servant, boy!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Lena withdrew her wand and pointed it at Lucius. Simultaneously, Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

There was a loud bang as both Lena and Dobby's magic hit Lucius at the same time, and he was thrown backwards into the wall. For a moment, he lay flat against it, as if pinned in place. Then he slumped to the floor. He staggered to his feet as Lena pocketed her wand, confident that Dobby had Harry's protection in hand. Once upright again, Lucius reached for his wand, but stopped when Dobby raised a long threatening finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing at his now former master. "You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now."

Lucius had no choice. With a last incensed stare at the pair of Harry and Dobby – and a brief glare towards Lena, for good measure – he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"

As Harry replied, Lena noticed that Riddle's diary, dropped by Lucius when he'd been thrown back, was lying in the corner of the corridor. She held out her hand, and the tattered book zoomed straight into it. The movement didn't go unnoticed by Harry and Dobby.

Lena half-smiled at them. "I think I might return this to Dumbledore, if Lucius isn't keeping it," she told them. "Talk to you later, Harry?"

Harry returned a tentative smile. "Definitely."

She nodded an acknowledgement to Dobby, then headed into McGonagall's office, shutting the door gently behind her. Dumbledore was sat at McGonagall's desk, writing something, but looked up at the sound of her entrance.

"Professor," Lena greeted him, crossing over to the desk.

"Miss Lestrange," responded Dumbledore politely, inclining his head. His eyebrows raised slightly as Lena placed the diary on the desk. "I take it Mr Malfoy could find no further use for this item?"

Lena sat down so she was sitting directly opposite him. "I don't think anyone has further use for it."

Dumbledore put down his quill, and leant back in his chair. Lena got the feeling that she was under inspection. "Would I be correct in the assumption," he said at last, "that you are aware of what was the true nature of the diary?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see." He tilted his head to the side, curious. "Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that we had never properly met before tonight?"

The corner of Lena's lip turned up into a slight smirk. "Yes, but I imagine that's hardly unusual, in terms of your interactions with students."

"It is unfortunate, but true," agreed Dumbledore. "And I must admit to you, Miss Lestrange, that now presented with the opportunity to privately converse with you, there is much I should like to discuss. However, the hour is now very late, and you have already been through much today. Therefore, I will put aside the urge to pander to my curiosity tonight, and instead do my best to answer the questions you have for me."

"Thank you, Professor, that's very considerate of you."

Dumbledore smiled genially, but Lena was positive a wariness remained in his piercing blue eyes. "Now, there was something in particular you wished to ask?"

Before she realised she was doing it, Lena started to curl a loose lock of hair around her index finger. Meeting Lucius had pushed the theory she wanted to discuss with Dumbledore to the back of her mind. But now it was back at the forefront.

There was something that Riddle had said in the Chamber that hadn't really registered with Lena until the immediate threat was over. Not something he had said to Lena, but to Harry.

Because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter.

"Yes, sir," she said, biting her lip. When she didn't immediately continue, Dumbledore gestured for her to go on. So Lena took a deep breath, looked the headmaster dead in the eye, and asked, "Is Harry one of Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

There was something almost satisfying about catching Dumbledore so off-guard. His whole body visibly tensed, his eyes widened, and his mouth even parted slightly in a silent 'Oh!' of surprise.

For almost ten seconds – although it felt much longer – Dumbledore said nothing; he simply gazed at Lena intently. For her part, Lena maintained the eye contact. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and low. "I will answer your question truthfully and with consideration, Miss Lestrange," he said, "if you will do me the same courtesy when I ask you a question."

Lena crossed her arms. "I thought you said you weren't going to ask me any questions."

Dumbledore leant forward, resting his gnarled, long-fingered hands on the desk. Still he held her gaze. "That was before I knew what it was you wished to discuss," he said, his tone perhaps more serious than Lena had ever heard it. Gone was the kindly, eccentric old teacher, and in his place sat the most powerful wizard in the world. "And I will be frank with you, Miss Lestrange," he continued, frowning. "I am not comfortable discussing such matters with you. Certainly not without knowing the answer to what I must ask you now."

"And what is it you want to know?" asked Lena, an eyebrow quirked.

"Are you responsible for Lenora Travers' present condition?"

Now it was Lena's turn to blanch at a question. She gripped her arms tightly, and her mouth suddenly became very dry. Yet the two sets of blue eyes still did not break their contact.

Possible responses raced through Lena's head. Ambiguous replies, carefully worded answers. Then she shoved them all aside. Except for one word.

"Yes," she said simply.

If the admission shocked Dumbledore, this time he concealed it. After a short pause, he merely replied, "I see. How?"

Lena unfolded her arms and rested them on the sides of her chair. "Do you mean how did I do it?" she inquired, trying to keep her face and voice neutral while the mental image of Travers convulsing as her veins turned black became more and more vivid.

Dumbledore nodded. "You used some form of Dark magic; that was evident. But the likes of which I have never seen before, or since. Was it a curse, or an object imbued with such magic? I am, of course, aware of your great aunt's profession..."

Closing her eyes momentarily, Lena almost felt as though she was eleven again, and back in that corridor with the older Slytherin girl.

Lenora Travers. One of the faces that had haunted Lena's nightmares for the last five years.

She opened her eyes, and steeled herself. After everything that had happened in the Chamber today, where she had come so close to completely letting darkness take her over, it was time to tell the truth. The whole truth.

"The origins of the magic lie in a Dark artefact, yes," Lena told him. "But it wasn't directly used in the... in my attack." She saw Dumbledore start to furrow his brow in confusion. "The artefact I refer to," she added, aware of her heartbeat quickening, "is Hecate's Orb."

For the second time that night, Lena could see that she had genuinely stunned the headmaster.

"You mean to say," he said in a low voice, "that the... affliction, from which Miss Travers now suffers was caused by–"

"Yes."

Dumbledore continued to stare at Lena, with an expression of almost disbelief. Then he took off his half-moon spectacles and produced a handkerchief from one of his robe pockets . "Miss Lestrange," he said, beginning to polish the spectacles, "you are talking about one of the most powerful magical objects in the world."

"I know that," said Lena quietly. "Firsthand."

With one final wipe, Dumbledore was bespectacled once more. He leant back in his chair, then interlocked his fingers, and rested his chin upon the clasped hands. "I think," he said, "that you should start from the beginning."

Lena placed her hands in her lap, and looked down at them. "The sixteenth of January, 1987," she said softly. "That's the day it all began." She looked back up at Dumbledore, who was watching her closely. "That was the day Valeriya brought home the Orb."

She took a deep breath, then began the story.

"Sometimes Valeriya brought me along to her deals. Sometimes she'd just show me when she came home, and teach me about it. But that evening, she came home carrying this suitcase I'd never seen before. She took it down into the basement, where she stored the objects that she purchased before moving them onto a buyer. When she came back up, I asked her what was in the suitcase. She told me it was something highly dangerous, the source for some sort of magical airborne disease, and that under no circumstances was I allowed to go near that suitcase.

But I didn't believe her. It was as though she was being almost too casual about it, too dismissive. Usually when she brought back something that dangerous, she was very explicit about what it was, what it could do to me. This time, it was like she thought that if she downplayed the danger of the object, I wouldn't be so interested in it.

I knew if I tried to inquire any further about it, no matter how disinterestedly, that would put her on guard, and she'd make getting to it much harder. So I pretended to be indifferent, and Valeriya thought that was the end of it. I think she took me out with her the next few days just to be sure I wouldn't get bored at home and sneak into the basement. I went to the Ukrainian Dragon Conservation Park, the Wizarding museum in Sardinia, the street markets in Marrakech, Morocco. And when I wasn't going out, she had me reviewing the curriculum for First Year potions, until I could make every one flawlessly from memory. But I didn't forget about the suitcase.

Finally, about a week after Valeriya had brought it home, I had the opportunity to go down into the basement. Valeriya was off seeing someone about some vials of Occamy blood and my grandmother was stocking up on groceries and potion supplies. I was home alone.

Valeriya, of course, had all sorts of protective enchantments around the basement, but by that point I knew how to bypass all of them – not that I had let her know. I found the suitcase. It took me almost half an hour to get through the magical locks because I'd never come across that sort of security before – which made me all the more determined to find out what was inside. At last, I broke through the last lock and opened the case."

At this point Lena broke off, absorbed by the memory.

"Did you know what it was? Back then?" The sound of Dumbledore's voice brought Lena out of her reverie.

"Of course," replied Lena. "I mean, it took me a couple of seconds to realise it, but once I began to feel its effect... See, I first heard about Hecate when I was six. One of Valeriya's clients had a statuette of her, and told me a bit about her. The witch worshipped as a goddess, who lived for over three hundred years. I was fascinated, and read everything I could concerning her. I was nine when I first came across the Orb in my research, and there was barely anything there except about how little information there was regarding it. So I asked Valeriya. She told me about how the Orb was believed by some to be the source of her life's longevity, and that Herpo the Foul supposedly created the first Horcrux in an effort to replicate it. That it potentially had the power to change reality itself, but that everyone who attempted to Master it was, sooner or later, destroyed by it."

Lena closed her eyes, allowing the memory to wash over her.

"And there it was, in the suitcase in front of me. Hecate's Orb, possibly the most powerful artefact in magical history, and it was literally within my grasp. And it wanted me to take it."

"It wanted you?" asked Dumbledore sharply.

Opening her eyes, Lena smiled bitterly. "Oh yes. An object of that much power? Well, it has a certain... sentience. So I lifted it out of the case. For a couple of seconds, I didn't feel anything. But then...

I thought I was going to die. That's not being overly dramatic; I've been on the receiving end of a Cruciatus Curse. But this wasn't the same. It was like all the air had been expunged from my lungs. Then it was like I was drowning, but at the same time being burned alive. Like being cut open by a thousand knives, and being crushed by an avalanche of boulders. And then I heard the Orb again. Not as though it was speaking – I just suddenly knew I had a choice. That I could choose to end the pain, or choose to endure it. One choice meant death, the other eternal suffering.

Before the choice presented itself, I thought I would have done anything to end the pain. But when faced with Death... I knew I would do anything to stay alive.

And the moment I made my choice, the breath returned to my body and the agony ended. Because that's how the Orb works. It only allows you to live, to try to Master it, if you would never choose Death. Under any circumstance.

I was only eleven years old, and I had passed its test. That filled me with the confidence – or rather, the arrogance – that I could be the one to finally, truly Master the Orb. I closed up the suitcase and redid all the locks so Valeriya wouldn't realise it'd been opened. It took much less time than I had expected – the work of the Orb, although I didn't realise it at the time. Then I took the Orb back up to my room, just in time to hide it before my grandmother came home. Valeriya arrived soon after, and I spent the rest of the day waiting for her to find out I had taken the Orb. But she didn't. I was thrilled. I could now learn how to control and use an object of such immense power that I could... well, I didn't know then, but I was eager to learn.

It wasn't until I was having my shower that night that I realised the Orb's test hadn't left me without its mark. There was a black blotch about the size of a Sickle on my chest, directly over my heart, with little half-inch-long black veins running out of it. I wasn't exactly sure what it was, but I guessed it had something to do with Orb. But it didn't hurt, and I didn't feel sick, so I wasn't overly concerned. I just thought that perhaps it was symbolic, a physical manifestation of my connection to the Orb.

Over the next few weeks I was careful not to spend an unusual amount of time in my room. I didn't want to raise Valeriya or my grandmother's suspicions. But when they were out, or occupied with something else, I would take the Orb out of its hiding place, and started learning how to use it.

It was like I'd been living in the dark until then, and now someone had finally turned on the lights, and I could see. Like going from running into the wind, to running with it. Moving objects around the room became simple as breathing. Transfiguration, which had never come easily to me, could be achieved with the snap of my fingers. I could create illusions that would have fooled even the most powerful wizards and witches. And that was just the beginning. Soon, as both my imagination and ambition expanded, I started to realise that there was so much more I could do..."

"Such as?" Dumbledore's hushed voice was a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Lena's breath hitched as memories – ones that she had tried to keep buried for six years now – flooded her mind. "I could change the shape of the ground – build hills out of nothing, remove trees so as if they'd never been there." She began to wring her hands uncomfortably. "I could bring dead plants back to life," she said quietly. "I could even stop time."

"Stop time?"

"For a short while," amended Lena. "Everything around me would freeze. The wind, people, even the rain once. Everything still – except for me."

"For how long?" questioned Dumbledore, staring at her with an uncomfortable intensity.

Lena shrugged. "I think about thirteen seconds was the longest I ever did. But I probably could have done more, if I'd–" She stopped herself.

The headmaster was frowning. "If you had what?"

A nausea was beginning to take hold of Lena. Desperate to finish telling Dumbledore her story, Lena tried to push the feeling away, clenching her fists so hard her knuckle's became paper-white. "If I'd had the Orb for longer," she said, half-whispering.

"Did Valeriya find out you had taken it?"

Lena shook her head. "I guess she hadn't found a buyer – or at least, one she was willing to sell to. No, for five months, the Orb was mine to do with as I pleased. And I was so, so infatuated with its power that I didn't even care the black mark on my chest was beginning to grow, and the veins now extended to the edges of my torso.

Now, the other thing that was happening the same time as all of this was that I had started having conversations with my grandmother about which school to begin attending that coming September. I wanted to come to Hogwarts – actually, I was convinced I needed to come here. But my grandmother wanted me to go to the Durmstrang Institute. It was where her parents had attended, and she thought that it would be more in line with my... interests."

Dumbledore cut in. "I must say, in light of everything you have told me, I am surprised that you did not wish to attend Durmstrang."

In spite of everything, Lena could not hold back a snort of laughter. "I know. Ridiculous, isn't it? I could have gone to a school that practically catered to my desires and skills. Instead, I wanted to go to the one where you – the enemy of the Dark Arts himself – were in charge."

"But why?" persisted Dumbledore. "Why did you feel such a strong urge to come to Hogwarts?"

Lena cocked her head. "Why did you?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?"

"After you graduated from here, you could have been anything you wanted, done anything you wanted," she pointed out. "Instead, you chose to come back here and teach. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that's not just because you felt a calling to the educator's life."

There were a few seconds of silence, before Dumbledore admitted, "There is, as I am sure you are aware, a certain degree of magic ingrained into the very fabric of Hogwarts that makes it... unique."

"Exactly," said Lena. "And I had read enough about all the Wizarding schools to figure that out. So this is where I wanted to go. But every time I told my grandmother that, she would get angry. She told me it was a bad idea, that the name Lestrange would only bring me loathing and distrust at Hogwarts, that I would be ostracized from the moment I walked through the doors. That I would be under constant scrutiny, most of all," she looked directly into the Professor's piercing eyes, "from you. And if there was anyone who wanted to associate with me, they'd be the sort to only bring me more trouble.

But I didn't care. I told her I didn't need people to like me, that I could deal with isolation perfectly well. And we would continue to argue until Valeriya would tell us to give it a rest. And then a week later, my education would be brought up in conversation, and the whole thing would start again. Neither of us would budge on the issue, and it was starting to get dangerously close to the deadline of making a decision. Then one day, we were arguing again. But this time, things..." Lena rubbed her eyes tiredly, and took a long, deep breath in and out. Then she met Dumbledore's gaze once again.

"Things got out of control."

Thursday 18 June, 1987:

"I don't care, I'm NOT going to Durmstrang!"

They were standing in the living room, on opposite sides. It was just Lena and Irina in the house; Valeriya still wasn't back from a meeting she had in Zagreb. They'd been shouting at each other for almost five minutes now, and they still weren't getting anywhere.

Irina let out a yell of frustration. "Ugh! Why won't you just listen to reason–"

"Why won't you listen to MY reasons?!" shouted Lena, clenching her fists by her sides. Her grandmother was just being so infuriating, acting like she knew better than Lena. If only she knew of what Lena was capable!

"I am just trying to protect you," yelled Irina, throwing her hands in the air in aggravation, "you stupid girl–"

"DON'T CALL ME STUPID!" screamed Lena.

Neither one of them noticed the crack beginning to appear in the wall to Lena's left.

"Then stop acting like a little child!" Irina was shouting.

The crack began to spread.

"If I'm acting like a child, it's because you're treating me like one!"

"Because you have proved that you are clearly incapable of discussing things like a rational adult!"

The crack had reached the ceiling, but it wasn't stopping there.

"You're the one who keeps bringing childish notions of friendship and loneliness into the conversation!" yelled Lena. Why couldn't her grandmother understand that expanding her magical knowledge and skills was the only thing that mattered when it came to her schooling?

"Forming connections with people isn't 'childish', Lena, it's important!"

"I have connections!"

"Not business connections – social connections that aren't just about what you can get out of each other!"

"Valeriya told me to never trust anyone–"

"That doesn't mean she doesn't have people she cares about!"

"Yeah? Like who?"

Irina stared at her granddaughter incredulously. "How could you need to ask me that?" That was when she noticed the cracks now running through the walls and ceiling. "Lena–" she began, but she was cut off.

"You're just afraid of how powerful I'm getting! You're just scared–"

"Don't be–"

"–Scared of me!" shouted Lena over the top of her grandmother.

"You are being RIDICULOUS!" roared Irina. "Now, get a hold of yourself!"

Lena's whole body was trembling in fury. "You're trying to hold me back!"

"Hold you back? Lena, I'm trying to do what I've always done – protect you!"

Everything suddenly became very still, almost like when Lena used the Orb to stop time.

"Protect me?" whispered Lena, staring at her grandmother in disbelief. "You, protect me?" A noise began to fill Lena's head. She didn't know what it was at first. Then it became clearer – a heartbeat. It rapidly became louder, pounding like a drum.

Then the sound was gone, and in Lena's hands, she held Hecate's Orb.

Irina face was frozen in shock. She took a step back. "What are you–" she began to croak, but Lena didn't let her finish.

"Protect me?" she repeated, her voice deathly quiet. "Is that what you were doing when you stood by and let my mother hex, jinx and curse me? Protecting me?"

Irina took another step back. "Lena–"

"Is that what you were doing when you raised a son who would never give a damn about his own child?" continued Lena, slowly approaching her grandmother, who was backing away. "Protecting me?"

"Lena, please–"

"Is that what you were doing when you took me in? Protecting me?" The temperature in the room was starting to drop, but Lena barely noticed, too focused on Irina's fearful face. "Or did you do that because you wanted to make yourself feel better about all your previous COLOSSAL FUCK-UPS?"

Irina flinched at the sudden volume. "Lena, just stop–"

"No," hissed Lena. "I won't stop. You are finally going to listen to what I'm saying– LOOK AT ME!"

Irina, who had been desperately looking around the room as if for an escape, snapped her head back around to Lena, her eyes wide in fear. Anyone else might have felt a rush of pity. But Lena only felt disgust.

"I don't need your protection," snarled Lena, now less than two metres away from her grandmother. "I never have, and I never will. You are nothing."

"Lena–"

"Nothing but a sad old woman–"

"Lena–"

"–Who's upset because she's finally realised that when she dies–"

"Lena–"

"–Nobody is going to cry for her."

Irina sunk to the floor, looking up at her granddaughter with tears streaming down her face. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

But something was coming out of Lena. Something black, that was somewhere between a liquid and a gas, but neither. It was streaming out of Lena's hands, and moving towards Irina.

When Lena spoke again, she barely recognised her voice. It was deeper, harsher, colder than she thought any human voice could possibly sound.

"And I have no further use for you."

The black matter began to envelop Irina, just as Lena heard somebody coming through the front door – Valeriya, calling out that she was home. As the blackness began to enter Irina through her mouth, nose, ears, Lena started to feel faint. Barely conscious, she saw Valeriya running into the room, shouting at her, panicked. But Lena couldn't make out the words.

Then everything went black.

"That's the last thing I remember. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hotel room in Calais, France. Valeriya was sitting next to my bed, and she told me I'd been unconscious for three weeks."

"And Irina?" asked Dumbledore. His expression was unreadable.

"Valeriya told me she had gotten there just in time to stop the Orb. And that Irina was fine, but didn't want me under her roof any longer." Lena attempted to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Understandable, really."

"And Hecate's Orb?"

Lena ran a hand through her hair. "Valeriya was able to separate me from it, although it very nearly killed me. And her too, I think, although she's always been quite vague about it. And she sent it away. Far away. I've never asked where."

"But you weren't truly separated from it, were you?" said Dumbledore, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Not entirely," admitted Lena after a pause. She bit her lip, then made a decision. Shrugging her robe off her shoulders, she began to unbutton her shirt.

Dumbledore opened his mouth, presumably to protest her action, then stopped himself. She guessed he had realised what she was going to show him.

Undoing the third button, Lena held open the shirt, revealing to Dumbledore the Galleon-sized black mark that remained at the bottom, inner corner of her left breast, and the surrounding, two inch-long black veins.

"It's been like that for the last six years," she said softly. "No bigger, no smaller. Except on one occasion."

"Lenora Travers."

Lena nodded, buttoning her shirt back up. "From my very first night here, I made it clear to all the Slytherins – particularly those from families that had aligned themselves with Voldemort during the war – that I wasn't interested in making friends with them. Some of them didn't react too well to that, including Travers. One night, I was making my way back to the Slytherin Dungeon after dinner when she caught up with me. She... well, basically she tried to interrogate me on my views on blood status. I ignored her, and she got angry. Said my parents were heroes, and that they'd be ashamed of me." Lena's hands twitched. "That if they were her parents, she'd be doing everything she could to carry on their legacy."

In an effort to stop her hands from twitching, Lena dug her nails into her palms. She breathed in and out, very aware of how her every move was being studied by Dumbledore.

"And I got mad," she went on. "Really mad, for the first time since that argument with my grandmother. Sure, there had been remarks and looks that had bothered me. But this was different. What Travers said... It was then I started to hear the same noise in my head. The heartbeat, like a drum. And I wanted to hurt her. Really, badly hurt her.

But before anything happened, a group of Hufflepuffs turned into the same corridor, and I... well, came to my senses, you might say. I broke away from Travers, and made sure to avoid her for the rest of the night. And later, back in my dorm, I thought about that noise in my head, and the mark still on my skin.

See, when I'd woken after being unconscious for three weeks, I thought everything had gone back to how it was before I'd touched the Orb. If anything, I was weaker than I had been. Things like igniting fires, shrinking and enlarging objects – they became more difficult. Honestly, I think the whole ordeal with the Orb stunted my magical ability for several years. And I can remember thinking to myself, after waking up that morning in Calais, that I would never seek out the Orb again. On that matter, I was resolute.

But as I lay in my bed that night, after the incident with Travers, it started to occur to me that the separation between myself and the Orb may not have been as complete as Valeriya and I thought."

Lena paused for a moment, twisting her hair around her fingers as she carefully considered her words.

"The best analogy I can give is a Muggle one – when I connected with the Orb, it was like a gunshot wound. Entry, but no exit. The bullet was lodged in my heart, and the black mark over it was the scar from when it had come through. And then Valeriya pulled it out, but left behind was some shrapnel. There was a small amount of the Orb's magic still running through my body, and up until then, it had remained dormant. But the rage I felt towards Travers awakened it.

I didn't run into her again until a week later. I was coming back from the library that evening, just before curfew. I had found a shortcut, a secret passage between it and the dungeons. But it just so happened that the corridor it opened onto was the one that Travers was walking along, on her way back to the common room. It was just us. Nobody else was nearby. We just stared at each other for a moment. Then–"

Lena broke off, and buried her face in her hands, sighing in frustration. She looked back up at Dumbledore earnestly.

"I don't know what she was thinking," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, "what she was planning to do. Maybe she thought she could intimidate me, or show me what Dark magic she could do. Maybe she was just being cautious. All I know is that she pulled out her wand, and I just reacted. Without hesitation.

The black stuff just poured out of me, far more quickly than it had when I'd attacked Irina. Travers opened her mouth, probably to scream, and it just went straight into her. And I watched it take over her body. Her eyes, her mouth, her veins. She fell to the floor, convulsing." A lump formed in Lena's throat, and she tightly clenched her fists. "And I just watched. It wasn't until I noticed that my own veins were turning black that I... I... well, actually thought about what was happening.

I realised I was about to kill her. Somehow, that thought was enough to stop the black matter coming out of me. But I couldn't get it out of Travers. She just lay there, still. Staring up with those entirely black eyes. I knew she wasn't dead, but there was nothing I could do to reverse what had happened. So I left her there. I went straight to the bathroom in our dorm. Pulled off my clothes. And saw in the mirror that the black veins had spread up to my neck, around to my back, and down to my wrists and ankles.

I don't know exactly how I did it, but over the course of an hour, the blackness rescinded until all that was left was the original mark. Since doing some more research in the general area, I suspect that I somehow forced the Orb's magic to infuse itself with my own." The image of the veins on the back of her hands turning black flashed before her eyes. "I found some evidence of that tonight, back in the Chamber." She tiredly slumped back in her chair. "In any case, I haven't heard that heartbeat noise in my head since then. Not even at my most enraged. Or afraid."

For a long while, neither Dumbledore nor Lena said anything. They simply sat back in their chairs, Lena blankly staring at the wall behind the Headmaster, while Dumbledore looked down at the desk, seemingly lost in thought.

Eventually, after a minute of silence, Dumbledore looked up, and said, "In answer to your earlier question: yes, I believe that inside Harry resides a piece of Voldemort's soul. Albeit quite unintentionally."

Lena blinked in surprise. She had half-expected that Dumbledore would refuse to give her an answer after everything she had told him. "Oh. Right."

"I must admit," he said, leaning forward, "I am curious – how did you arrive at that conclusion?"

Lena straightened in her chair. "Riddle – the diary, I mean – said to Harry that there were 'strange likenesses' between their selves–"

"Harry said as much when we spoke before," said Dumbledore. "It was a matter of great concern to him, I think."

"I'm sure it was," agreed Lena. "But I think the full connotations would have escaped his notice. I doubt even Riddle realised what he was saying. But I've spent the last six months trying to figure out how it's possible that Harry can be a Parselmouth. And as we were coming back up from the Chamber, I remembered what Riddle had said, and... well, it finally hit me. Harry speaks Parseltongue because Voldemort does. They're connected–"

'–Like the Orb and myself.' Lena finished the sentence in her head silently. She didn't think it needed to be said; no doubt Dumbledore could make that parallel on his own.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, but didn't say anything for a little while. At last, he said, "There is, of course, much more to be said on the matter. However, I think that enough has been said this night." He suddenly stood up, and Lena followed suit. "So I suggest that we join everyone else in the Great Hall for this celebratory feast – unless you wish to visit Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing?"

Lena shook her head, feeling slightly bewildered. "No, I think I just need some rest..."

The Headmaster inclined his head. "Naturally. Then tomorrow evening, we can resume this discussion." He picked a few items up off the desk, including Riddle's diary, and pocketed them. Then he gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"

Pushing her loose hair back behind her ears nervously, Lena hesitantly asked, "Um, does this... does this mean I'm not expelled?"

For one final time that evening, Lena felt the full force of Dumbledore's piercing gaze. Then the old wizard smiled.

"No, Miss Lestrange. I am not going to expel you."

And that's the end of the Chamber of Secrets section of To Be Human (fun fact: I've now surpassed the wordcount of the actual CoS book)! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story so far, and I hope you join me for the Prisoner of Azkaban segment, because Lupin's finally about to make his entrance...

Reviews are greatly appreciated, and very much desired :)