I was up late that evening, sitting in a corner of the Gryffindor common room and reading. I was up late most nights, hoping that going to bed exhausted would hold off the nightmares. The room was silent save for the popping of the banked fire, which provided most of the light. I'd retained the light amulet from the foci this afternoon, since it reminded me of my own normal focus for light, which I hoped to recover some day soon. I was feeding it just enough power to read by, and with the light coming from my chest, I assumed I was almost invisible to the rest of the room. I didn't want to be hassled about why I was up when the second-years went to astronomy class later.

For a minute, I thought Hermione had already talked herself into second-year classes as she made her way into the common room in a pink bathrobe, sat in a chair near the exit, and extinguished her wand. Because of the hiding in the dark, I assumed she'd had a fight with her roommates, and I was feeling too selfish to stick my nose in and help her work it out.

So I was surprised when she turned out to have chosen the spot to confront Neville and Ron, who had also slipped into the room in bathrobes and were on their way out. I wasn't paying enough attention to listen to the whole conversation, but I caught something about telling Percy before they slipped out of the exit. I had really expected that would be locked at night.

Percy was out doing a patrol before he grabbed the second-years to lead to astronomy anyway, so I set down my book and followed to see what the kids were up to. I could believe the twins talking Ron into going out at night to do something stupid, but Neville seemed too level-headed for that, and why had Hermione not come back in? I figured it out when I left and the portrait snapped closed, with no fat lady in it to re-admit students. What a bizarre way of locking the room.

The trio of first-years had already headed off. I spotted their little heads flitting through the moonlight as they went downstairs. Shrugging, I followed them down: in for a knut, in for a galleon, I thought the local saying went. They were pathetically easy to keep track of, even with a couple minute head start, and I wondered if they realized how lucky they were that none of the prefects or Filch had caught them. I wasn't the stealthiest person in the universe, either, but I was paying extra attention and was pretty sure I'd hear anyone coming around a corner. I could certainly hear the children hissing at each other to be quiet.

I'd followed them all the way downstairs and then back up to the third floor when I saw the platinum-blond-haired boy, Malfoy, and one of his prepubescent bodyguards sauntering up the other stairway, apparently intending to rendezvous with the Gryffindors. I grinned and slipped around a corner ahead of him, when he passed by, I said, "Lovely night for a stroll, huh?"

The boys froze. I thought the bigger one was going to lose control of his bodily functions, but Malfoy managed to hold onto his poise, turned, and let out a minuscule sigh of relief when he realized I wasn't a prefect or a teacher. "I find the moonlight and silence quite conducive to contemplation," smirked the boy. I was honestly impressed by his vocabulary.

"Bad direction to go, then," I tried to match his smirk, "since there are some loud Gryffindors up ahead that might ruin your meditation."

He tilted his head, offering me a point in the exchange, and suggested, "If I were to say I was on the way to settle a matter of honor between the houses of Malfoy and Longbottom, on behalf of Slytherin and Gryffindor, would you interfere?"

"Depends on the justification," I shrugged.

"After she missed flying class to attend your seminar this afternoon, the Gryffindors in question may have besmirched the honor and talents of Ms. Bulstrode."

"And you didn't say anything similar about Mr. Finnegan and Ms. Granger?" I asked.

Another scored point from the 11-year-old, and he admitted, "Honestly, many things were said, and an honor duel is an excellent way to decide the truth of the situation."

I figured the kids didn't know enough spells yet to really hurt each other, though it couldn't hurt for me to be there if I was wrong, so I told him, "Fair enough, I'm actually interested to see how one of these goes." Plus this was a good opportunity to talk to the kid afterward. We'd started ambling in the direction of the trophy room, when I suddenly heard Filch's voice. I motioned for the boys to stay silent and we moved back into an alcove.

Moments later, the trio of Gryffindors tried to silently run out of the far door, crashed into a suit of armor making a cacophonous din, before Ron screamed, "Scarper!" and they tore off away from us, with Filch not far behind. I saw a tiny feline body break off from the chase and saunter over in our direction.

"That cat is going to be a problem," whispered Malfoy.

I grinned and shook my head, bending down and waiting for her to come over. "Evening, Missus," I said, giving her a few ear scritches. She butted my knee with her head, gave a look at the two Slytherin boys as if daring them to do something, and then turned to bound off after Filch. "Well, looks like that honor duel at midnight didn't work out. Can I walk you boys back to your common room?"

We periodically heard the sound of the chase proceeding throughout the rest of the third floor as we descended downstairs toward the dungeons, and I figured it was safe to have the conversation I needed to have with Malfoy. "You're not just the Malfoy heir, right? Your mother was a Black?"

"She was," he admitted, dodging the question of whether that made him the Black heir.

"I assume that makes Bellatrix Black your aunt?" None of the professors that had been in the yearbook I found seemed to want to talk about either my mother or my godmother, but I'd found some references to Bellatrix's sister, Narcissa, who looked a lot like Draco Malfoy's mother from when I'd seen them at the train station.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, after her marriage," he said, hiding some kind of twitch at the mention of her name. "However, yes."

"I assume you don't get to see her very often?"

"She's one of the most wanted criminals in Britain, so I can't imagine I'd ever have seen her," hedged the boy, but there was a hollowness to his polished language that hadn't been there before.

"She's a scary lady," I said. He just nodded, swallowing hard. "Did you know that she's my godmother?" Another nod. "Apparently she was best friends with my mother, but nobody that was at school with them wants to tell me anything about it. And your aunt was never very forthcoming, at least in any way that made much sense."

"I'd imagine most of the adults around here are reticent to talk about anyone who fought on the other side in the war," he said. "I could owl my parents, if you'd like. They might have more information."

"That would be a big help, thanks," I told him. We were about to descend into the first level of the dungeons, when a prefect turned a corner up ahead and I'd been talking too much to have a chance of hearing. To my great fortune, it was Penelope. "Good evening, Ms. Clearwater," I said, trying to be nonchalant and hoping that Malfoy's bodyguard didn't give us away, since Malfoy had already put on a mask of innocence.

"I don't think any of you three are supposed to be out and about this late," frowned the Ravenclaw witch.

"Mr. Crabbe and I got turned around leaving the library and might have been wandering all night if Mr. Dresden hadn't helped direct us back to our common room," Draco said, smoothly. I just gave a friendly smile, not wanting to confirm nor deny the boy's glib lie.

She clearly thought about punishment, but then shrugged and said, "Then I guess it's good that you all found each other. Sleep well, you two," she said, dismissing the Slytherins.

"Could you please give me an escort back to my common room, to avoid any other issues?" I asked.

"Suits me," she nodded, "I needed to patrol that way anyway." After we'd walked for a few moments, the astute girl asked, "Do I want to know what was really going on?"

"The common room doors really ought to lock the first-years in overnight," I admitted. "We'll see how agitated Percy is, before I tattle on 11-year-olds from my own house who may have been up to some shenanigans."

That got a laugh. "Honestly, sneaking out to go to the library late at night seems like something I'd have gotten up to, first year."

"Runes lab for me," I said, then added, "but it wasn't even a month ago and, to be fair, nobody had actually told me it wasn't allowed."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I was hoping getting to be a prefect would mean I could get some work done after curfew. It's not like I'm going to go charging off to do, what'd you call it, shenanigans? But it eats up so much time, it's hard to see the perks."

"What is your schedule like?" I asked. "I know we mentioned the research project to you, but Percy is dragging his feet about how much time he'd actually have for it with all his other studies and prefect duties."

"Ravenclaws make time for research projects," she grinned. "I'm glad you're trying to talk Percy into it. That boy has always struck me as too practical for his own good."

"You're the opposite?"

"Maybe. I've certainly been accused of retreating into theory. I get much higher marks on my essays than on my spellwork. If we're doing a project, I'd really like to do something like come up with a spell. It's too predictable for me to just write a paper on the theory of something."

"Makes sense to me," I said, realizing that I now had to figure out a good project that might get Percy out of his dead-end aspirations and that included spellcrafting. No pressure. "Ah, there's the common room." Percy was just coming back up the opposite stairway, presumably from dropping the second-years at astronomy class. To head off any jealousy he might feel seeing me walking with Penelope, I said, "Hey Percy, Ms. Clearwater gave me an escort back after I helped some lost first-years. Maybe you two would enjoy patrolling together, this evening?"

I shot him a wink before whispering "pig snout" to the returned fat lady in the portrait and heading in for the night. I'd apparently gotten in just behind the trio of wandering first-years, as I overheard Hermione shout, "We could have all been killed—or worse, expelled! Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron and Neville were sharing a look of confusion before they saw me walk in and scampered up to their own bedroom.