Huffily Puffily

by quizzlers

Lucy was brought to Wool's Orphanage with no last name, and this suits her just fine. As she befriends the Boy-Who-Lived, she can't seem to kick her unfortunate habit of meeting the Dark Lord— and what's worse, living to tell the tale.

64. Feral Niffler

Amidst the sea of candy wrappers and hoarded pillows, Lucy and Anthony lounged on one of the couches in their common room, both covered in heaps of blankets. Neither of them had slept last night. In fact, nobody slept last night. Sirius departed early in the morning after a night filled with Disney films and laughter. For the brief interlude in which Anthony accompanied Sirius to the tent, Lucy went to check on her other friends. Upon finding them, she learned the Gryffindors had spent New Years Day with Hagrid; they went with him into the Forbidden Forest to catch a glimpse of migrating Graphorns.

Graphorns were more common on the Continent, but according to Hermione's excited ramblings, some had been introduced to various British isles as a gift to the Mountain Trolls residing there. Since then, their numbers slowly increased, and as troll tribes 'disbanded' (a kind word for extreme government influence), the Graphorns left for the wilderness.

Lucy spent the early part of her morning listening to Harry, Ron, and Hermione recount how huge the Graphorns were and the amazing size of their herd. With some prodding, Lucy was able to decipher that the Graphorns were nowhere near Sirius's tent. She was a little disappointed because it would be hilarious if Sirius went back to his tent, only to find a huge herd of animals had taken up residence.

It was clear her friends were too tired for another adventure, so Lucy returned to her own common room. At six o'clock in the morning she and Anthony set on yet another film marathon. They worked together to levitate the television up the stairs from her dormitory and into the common room— they worked together well, but it involved much bickering, teasing, and purposefully stepping on the others' feet in an attempt to break their concentration. But after they had everything ready, they went straight to business.

Anthony showed her his hiding place for snacks: an iron-wrought, enchanted safe underneath his bed where he hid his food (and Firewhiskey) from his roommates and the now-deceased Monster Rat of Hufflepuff. Personally, Lucy thought the safe was a bit overkill, but Anthony was adamant that the Monster Rat had been a beast unlike anything the Wizarding World had ever seen, on the same level as Voldemort, and even death would not stop it for long.

She thought it best not to tell him how easily she had caught the rat.

Seriously. All she had to do was place a sticking charm around a piece of cheese, and the Monster Rat was hers for the taking. She had it alive for a week and she toyed with the idea of keeping it as a pet— until she tried to feed it, whereupon it sank its teeth into the spot between her pointer finger and her thumb. Lucy promptly fed the still alive rat to her snake.

Sweet, violent revenge.

Of course, Anthony would never forgive her if he knew she had even briefly thought about sparing the Monster Rat, so she wisely kept that particular detail to herself.

At the moment, they were delving into a bag of wizard crisps. They were called Alakazamo's, and they changed color and flavor every second. Unlike the dreaded Every Flavor Beans, the flavors of these crisps were generally appetizing. Lucy popped a purple crisp into her mouth, though she regretted it as it turned green (dill pickle) at the last second. There weren't any flavors like barnacles or bogies, but that didn't mean she was a fan of some of the others.

"Yuck!" she wiped at her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "I can never get them right," she complained.

Anthony laughed and threw a crisp into his mouth just as it turned blue. "It takes years of practice, young one," he assured her. He reached for another crisp and eyed it. "I think I'll have marmite this time," he decided. He waited for the perfect moment and then threw it into his mouth as it turned bright orange. He grinned at her afterward. "See? It's easy! You'll get there someday."

"If these fucking pickle crisps don't do me in before then," she muttered. She glanced at the television and immediately retched as a montage of chocolate bars flashed across the screen. "Right, the amount of chocolate I've been forced to witness in this film is sickening!"

Okay, yes, she'd liked the taste of chocolate when she tried it on the Hogwarts Express in her first year. However, she decided she hated chocolate after she learned it was the the only cure for a Dementor attack and she was fucking allergic to it. She swore the universe tried to find ways to mess with her.

Oh, you kept picking on your suspicious professor and he turned out to have Voldemort on the back of his head? Haha, gotcha!

Ohhh, you've grown terribly attached to a boy who attended your orphanage and seems to really care about you? Well, funny thing about that, he's actually Voldemort too, and he cares about you soooooo much that he's willing to kill your best mate in front of you. And since I'm the universe, and a bitch, I think I'll just kill him while I'm at it. Have fun in eternal misery!

AND, as of most recently, the Universe decided to bless her with this:

Here's a cryptic vision for you to dwell over just when you've finally settled down for the year. You know, settling down with your pet dog, who's not actually a dog, he's an escaped convict, except he's actually innocent and now you're going to spend all year helping him because you love having friends and you love breaking the law. Also fuck you, Lucy, Dementors are here and you can't eat chocolate.

So yes, she had a very good reason for despising chocolate. It mocked her. And she was not one to be mocked!

"You chose this film," Anthony said, completely disregarding her awful retching noises. "And you knew full well it was called Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I didn't actually read the title," she sniffed, "I was a bit busy scrambling to find any film that wasn't about fucking Christmas."

"Christmas films warm the heart and soothe the soul!" Anthony gasped, outraged. "And this one isn't about Christmas at all, yet you're still complaining."

"I was not complaining. I was merely commenting on a critical element of this film," she said in her best 'holier-than-thou' voice. "I would not expect a nitwit such as yourself to understand."

"Uh huh, yeah, that's it," Anthony rolled his eyes. "Sounded like whining to me."

"You sound like whining."

"Your mum sounds like whining. And— Merlin's beard, did that boy just die?" Anthony gaped at the screen as Augustus Gloop fell headfirst into the river of chocolate and disappeared below the surface.

Lucy was equally as shocked. She'd picked this film thinking it was going to be heartwarming and whimsical, and at first it was, but the moment Wonka appeared on screen, she began questioning her life decisions.

"Wonka pushed him in!" she said, shaking Anthony's arm. She'd been leaning on him the entirety of the marathon, and they often took turns shaking each other and shouting their commentary about the movies. She was very glad that she, Sirius, and Anthony all liked to voice their opinions while watching a film, otherwise some of them would end up very annoyed. "You saw that, right? Right?!"

Anthony nodded, starting to laugh. "At least Charlie's trying to save him, doing the bare minimum— I'm sorry, did Wonka say that it was too late? It's been three seconds!" He eyed the sociopathic gleam in Wonka's eyes with a bit of caution. "This is a murder factory," Anthony said firmly. "I'm calling it now."

"Wonka's a fucking maniac," Lucy agreed. A smile pulled at her lips. She was beginning to like this guy after all. "Everything he does is one huge mind game." And I respect him for it.

"This film feels like a psychological experiment and I'm failing it. It's like a horror film, honestly," Anthony snickered.

"Nah, the scariest part about this flick is Violet's outfit. It's like a cross between a bathrobe and a karate uniform. Didn't she know she was touring a famous factory? A little effort is not a lot to ask for!"

Anthony burst into peals of laughter at the genuine outrage on Lucy's face. He reached for a handful of Alakazamo's. Another good thing about these crisps, in Lucy's opinion, was that you were forced to eat them one by one, because the mixture of the flavors was not good at all. But Anthony, an absolute demon, liked to punish himself every so often by forcing himself to take a handful for seemingly no reason at all. He held the handful up to his mouth, when he suddenly heard someone clear their throat from the common room's entrance.

He and Lucy both snapped their heads over to see the rest of their Quidditch team standing there, all wearing an expression of great amusement.

They all seemed tired as well; Maxine's hair was out of its usual ponytail for once, falling in brown and lightly highlighted streaks past her shoulders. Her sports jersey was stained in what was either Firewhiskey or orange juice, and considering that this was Maxine, it was probably Firewhiskey. Beside her, Heidi was peering at the television with obvious interest. Her spectacles slipped down her nose, and Maxine reached over to push them up for her. She also tucked a stray strand of Heidi's hair behind her ear. The girl had gotten a pixie cut a couple years ago, and now it had grown just above her shoulders. Both of the girls were clearly exhausted.

Cedric had dark circles under his eyes, but was grinning all the same. Beside him Herbert let out a yawn and tugged at the collar of his sweater. But it was Daisy's reaction that Lucy was eyeing the most; the Head Girl was undoubtedly the most tired. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and along with her dark circles, she had a greenish bruise along her jaw, likely from her Auror training. Daisy seemed unsure as to whether or not she was going to scold Lucy and Anthony. Her lips were pursed, arms crossed, fingers drumming in consideration.

Anthony gulped. Whatever Daisy decided, he wasn't willing to find out. He at once fumbled for his wand, but it was lost in the sea of wrappers. He grabbed Lucy's wand by accident and before she could warn him, he waved it at the television, only to shriek as a huge jolt of electricity ran up his arm. He dropped the wand before it could spread any further, but the pain of it still sent him collapsing backward.

"Wrong wand, wrong wand!" he cried, falling over sideways across Lucy's lap. She had so many blankets covering her that she was practically a human pillow. "Oh my fucking wizard god, that hurt so bad!" he whimpered and, with his spare hand, pointed at Lucy accusingly. "Your wand hurt me!" He pushed his finger against her nose, and she wrenched one of her arms free to whack his hand away.

"Laurel does that," she gave him an apologetic look. She patted the top of his head and reached for her wand with her left hand. She waved it at the television, and it paused just before Wonka and the others stepped onto a boat. The whole time, Anthony groaned pitifully, holding his arm close to him.

He looked over at Cedric with a broken expression. "Cedric, kiss it better," he whined.

"Absolutely not," Cedric said, smiling. He waded across the various snacks and mess scattering the floor and sat down beside Anthony. He grabbed Anthony's uninjured arm and tugged him upward. Cedric glanced toward Lucy and gave a conspiratorial wink. "Not in front of the company, at least."

Anthony let out an overjoyed cry, launching himself at Cedric. He tackled the boy into a hug. "Oh, Ceddy, how I've missed you!" he fake-sobbed into his shoulder.

Everyone else in the room was so used to Anthony's antics, they didn't even blink. Heidi stared blankly at them before making her way over to the couch as well. "Aren't the pair of you divorced?" she asked, sitting beside Cedric.

Maxine trailed behind her with a scowl on her lips. "Whatever they are, I'm too hungover for it." She sank into the spot beside Heidi and kicked her feet over her lap. Her legs were so long that they draped across Cedric's as well, and then partly onto Anthony's. "So what are we watching?" she asked, digging into the couch cushions behind her. She pulled out a can of Summerbeer— a brand of alcohol created by the descendent of Felix Summerbee, the wizard who created Cheering Charms. Felix's descendent did not have his own chocolate frog card, which Lucy thought was a bit unfair, since people probably knew more about the brewer than a spell inventor.

Daisy was less interested in Maxine's brand of choice and more curious as to where on earth she had pulled the beer from. "Are you hiding alcohol in the couches again?" she demanded. She went to check, but tripped over a piece of trash and barely managed to right herself. She made an annoyed huff. "The state this place is in! You know students will be arriving in an hour, don't you? It's a common room, not your own personal lounge."

"Could have fooled me," Anthony muttered. He reached into the crack of the couch as well and pulled out a bottle of Butterbeer. He tried to crane his head around Daisy as she walked around the room, picking up wrappers. "Daisy, love, would you mind stepping a bit to your left?" She stared at him, but obliged. He grinned. "Thanks." He reached for his wand and pointed it at the television.

"Oh, no you don't!" Daisy stepped in front of the TV and glared at him. "No games until this common room is clean. What on earth did you two do to it?"

Anthony and Lucy exchanged a long, ominous glance.

"That's not even a little bit comforting," Herbert shuddered. "But Daisy is right. This place is a mess. Why are you a prefect again, Anthony?"

"I believe Dumbledore told me it was because I was responsible and protective over the younger students," Anthony said haughtily. He was definitely more amused by Daisy's disapproval than worried about her reaction. He lowered his wand, shaking his head in disappointment. "It's you who should be ashamed of yourself, Daisy! I've been here all alone with my cub, giving her the best holiday this poor little miserable orphan has ever had, and here you stand scolding us. It's just disrespectful, really."

The Head Girl glanced over at Lucy, who wasn't paying attention at this point and was instead trying to dig through the couch cushions to find her own fun little drink. She was not having any success, but suffice to say, she appeared far from miserable. Daisy sighed deeply and rubbed at her forehead.

"Rickett. I spent the past two weeks training like a dog under one of the most insufferable wizards I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I have two hours of sleep every night with all my homework, none last night, because my dog decided it was a fine idea to eat half of my potions ingredients."

Anthony suddenly looked concerned. "Your little Mango? Is she okay?" He immediately leaned forward.

"Yes, but it was a fun time explaining to the muggle vets why Mango had eight species of 'unidentified bacteria' in her stomach, and why a good margin of them are shaped like dragon teeth. They nearly called actual government scientists. Point being, I have had no sleep, everything hurts, in the next hour I will have to attend to all the other Hufflepuffs, ensure everyone has got their luggage under control, start planning out our next prefects' meeting, let alone all the patrolling we'll have to get done!"

A rambling Daisy Locke oftentimes turned into a dangerous Daisy Locke, especially when all of her friends were in one room, half of them being absolute menaces. Maxine was clearly looking for ways to rile the Head Girl up, Anthony was fighting a smile, and Heidi was nodding along like she agreed with Daisy while also opening up a package of chocolate frogs and discarding the wrappers onto the floor.

Lucy gave up on finding a drink and turned to look at the older girl. "Daisy?" she said kindly. Daisy's eyes snapped over to her, and Lucy had a feeling she'd have been in less danger if an Acromantula burst through the ceiling and dragged her into the forest. However, she was nothing if not a risk taker.

"Yes?" Daisy replied, promising a vast amount of pain in such a simple word.

"Allow me."

Lucy pointed her wand at the mass of wrappers on the ground. "Evanesco." Her wand deemed this task appropriate enough to grant without any struggle. Now apart from the mass of blankets on the couch, the common room was rather clean. She looked back at Daisy with a pointed glance. "We're magic, remember? Cleaning is hardly even a thing."

"Oh," Daisy said numbly.

"Oh," Anthony mocked, as Daisy collapsed into the spot beside Lucy.

Daisy threw him an ugly look. "I'm going to ignore that because I feel sorry for almost killing you, Rickett," she hissed.

"What? You didn't even point your wand at me."

"Oh, I was about to."

"Assaulting fellow prefects is considered a highly unpleasant virtue for a Head Girl," Lucy said grimly. She arranged her features to appear extremely disapproving as she shook her head at Daisy. Daisy's glare intensified, but Lucy only smiled at her and curled into Daisy's side. She was once again grateful for her powers of being adorable, otherwise she would have been killed long ago, by various different people.

"Brat," Maxine snorted.

Lucy bolted upright and glowered. "I'll kill you, O'Flaherty," she warned. "Brutally."

Max considered her for a few moments before shrugging. "I mean, I've never been annoyed to death before, but I reckon you might be able to do it, being a hyper little runt and everything. You really shouldn't feed the gremlin after midnight, Rickett."

"Oh, it's on!" Lucy snarled, and in one fluid motion she attempted to lunge across Anthony. He easily caught her and shot Daisy a panicked glance but Daisy didn't really know what to do either, because on one hand Maxine was incredibly strong, and on the other hand, Lucy was very stubborn. "Unhand me, Rickett! Or I'll petrify you again!"

"You and what basilisk?" Anthony snorted. With surprising ease, he forced her back into her spot, then placed an arm across her like a seatbelt to hold her in place. "I do this for not your safety, Lucy, but for Maxine's. Have mercy on her. She is so weak compared to you. She knows not of your power."

"Max, if Rochester comes at you, I hope you know I am not getting anywhere near that," Heidi told Maxine in a matter of fact tone.

"What the fuck! What's the whole point of marital vows, then?" Max demanded.

"We're not married, you twat. Now budge over so Herb can sit down."

"Thank you," Herbert smiled and squeezed into the last remaining spot behind Daisy. Now that Lucy stopped writhing around, they were all crammed together. It wasn't too uncomfortable, but it was certainly warm. Lucy pushed the blankets off her and onto the ground. Before Daisy could lose her mind about it, Herbert pointed his wand at the mass of blankets and casted a folding charm. He levitated the pile of neatly folded blankets on the nearby armchair. "We'll deal with that later," he told Daisy. He nudged her with his elbow. "Aren't you curious about the muggle box?"

"The Jellyvision, you mean?" Heidi said automatically.

Anthony suddenly whirled around as though possessed. He launched himself across Cedric, stopping inches away from Heidi's face. His lips were curled down in a wild snarl. "YOU!" He boomed. "You charmed all my fucking muggle studies textbooks! You had me thinking it was called a Jellyvision for years! You had your whole family in on it!"

Heidi's smile faded, and at once she turned toward Maxine for support. Max shrugged and shot her girlfriend a grin. "I told you that you'd be on your own if he ever found out," she said, shrugging. "It was cruel, what you did— messing with Rickett's brain is like kicking a puppy. A dumb, gullible puppy."

"You told me about SECSTRICITY, Heidi! What the fuck?!"

"It's not my fault nobody's corrected you before now," Heidi said, shrugging. "Any book in the library would have told you the difference." She pursed her lips. "Oh, wait, I told you they were all outdated... nevermind." Anthony growled at her. "Listen, it was a life lesson, you know? Don't trust strangers."

"You were not a stranger, you were my friend, and I believed you!"

Anthony released her— partly because it was impossible to stay angry at Heidi's sly grin for longer than a few minutes, and partly because Max was liable to snap him in half if he tried landing any actual retribution. He released her, sulking back into his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest with a pout.

Cedric patted him on the shoulder consolingly. "It's alright, Anthony. At least now you know, right?" he gave his friend a half-smile.

"Lucy and I were better off on our own," Anthony grumbled, still pouting.

"Speaking of that—" Herbert leaned across Daisy to frown at Anthony. "Why didn't you Floo in for our annual party?"

Maxine finished her Summerbeer and reached into the couch cushion for another one. "Yeah, what's with that, Anth?" She cracked it open and dodged out of the way as a beam of sunlight burst from the can. From what Lucy heard from the older students, there was at least one drink in every package that tried to blind the drinker, for no reason in particular. Wizards were weird. But Lucy was less interested in the alcohol and more interested in this 'annual party' Herbert was speaking of.

Anthony gave an odd sort of grimace. Lucy peered around at him. "You didn't tell me there was a party you were missing," she said, her tone reproachful. She would have told him to go! She and Sirius would have been fine on their own. Maybe they wouldn't have lugged the television into the common room, but she wouldn't have left him alone on New Years Day!

"Don't worry, Rochester, you'll be invited next year," Maxine assured her, grinning. "Then you'll be within drinking age, won't ya?"

Herbert pursed his lips and shook his head. "She can come next year, but she won't drink until at least her fifth year," he said firmly.

"Anthony and I drank during our fourth year," Max argued.

"Because the rest of us were too young and stupid to realize it was wrong," Daisy said reproachfully. She looked down at Lucy, attempting to look stern, but her expression melted upon seeing Lucy staring up at her with her wide, brown eyes. "I don't want you to drink at all until you're of age." She placed her hand on Lucy's head and ruffled her hair gently. "You don't have to worry about that right now, anyway. Max, stop tempting her."

"For now," Maxine shrugged. She nudged Anthony with her foot. "Now spill, you twat! What was so important you had to ditch us old hags for, anyway? We've had our party every year since we added Ced and Heidi to our group. It was weird without you." She moved her expression around to appear deeply distraught, and added, "I missed you."

Anthony pulled a face and shoved her feet away from him, "Ugh, I hate it when you try and act sentimental, it's unnatural," he complained. "And I did have a party. It just so happened to be with my DAUGHTER, who is very awesome, and we had loads of fun." His eyes glinted mischievously as he glanced down at Lucy. "Didn't we, Canary?"

Her lips curled up into a smile. Christmas Break had been very exciting, indeed. First she found out Sirius Black was innocent, then they set up his criminal hideout, planned an excursion to Diagon Alley, stole an entire vault from Mr. Malfoy, retrieved Sirius Black a wand, had an epic snow war, picked fights with Dementors, and then set up a muggle television within the walls of Hogwarts. It had been so busy that even in the moments that Lucy felt sad, it was no longer overwhelming. She was also very, incredibly grateful that Anthony had decided to stay for Christmas Break after all. She couldn't deny that she felt very guilty, now, that he had missed his annual party, but she couldn't imagine how the past two weeks would have gone without him. How she would have gotten through two weeks with herself, alone in her dormitory, with nothing but the ruined diary under her pillow to comfort her.

"Yes," she agreed quietly, her smile growing warmer. "I'd say we did, Gumshoe."

Anthony stared back at her, and little did she know, his thoughts were running along the same line. He liked the annual party Maxine hosted every year. He liked having a crazy New Years party with music blasting, colors flashing, and enough food and drinks to feed a hundred men. But there had been something undeniably special about the holidays this year. Where last year he might have had a quiet, but nice dinner with his parents, he now spent Christmas Eve with Sirius Black, a man who up until a few weeks ago he was willing to kill if the man posed a danger to his ducklings.

Sirius had a good heart. He was undoubtedly a bit unstable and certainly rough around the edges, but he was considerate and protective. Anthony liked him. And more importantly, Lucy liked him, too.

He had not seen her smile so much in ages. He'd been reluctant to leave her behind on Christmas. He toyed with the idea of asking her to stay with him and his parents, but his dad was busy with work at the Ministry and his mum would have been so overbearing (worse than him) (No, seriously, way worse than him!). He was glad he decided to stay at Hogwarts. He was glad his friend had not suffered through the two weeks alone.

Staring at Maxine now, he was slightly puzzled, because couldn't they tell? Couldn't his friends understand why he didn't show up to the party? He thought the answer was written all over his little friend's face. He figured the dark circles under her eyes, the way her shoulders always hung with a persistent weariness would have indicated that Anthony stayed because he was worried.

Maxine cared for Lucy, too, in a rough and annoying sisterly way, so couldn't she see? What was wrong with Lucy? He was sure she could, to an extent. They all could. It was Maxine who attempted to curse Montague as his parents ushered him out of Hogwarts, as the bastard's father muttered about finding a 'lawyer'. It was Heidi who was right there with her, screaming threats at Montague from the top of her lungs, telling him they'd be at his doorstep some day.

It was Herbert who docked over two hundred points from Slytherin the week Lucy was in the hospital, ranging from mild offenses, such as loitering for a moment too long, to handing out months worth of detention toward Montague's sympathizers.

It was Cedric who was nearly stripped of his prefect's badge because he dunked Miles Bletchley's head into his half-brewed cauldron after the Slytherin dared to suggest Lucy ought to have a taste of Flint and Pucey's medicine.

And yet, despite all their efforts, despite how much anger they had stored up inside them, Montague had walked away with a light slap on the hand. They were all prepared, all of them, to storm the gates of the Ministry and testify against Montague with all they had; Anthony's own father would have been elated to conduct investigations into every crevice of Hogwarts until they had enough evidence to put him behind the bars of Azkaban for life. But that never happened. The investigations never happened. Graham Montague walked away feeling like he'd won, free to attend a school where his sinister behavior was encouraged, while Lucy had to relive his torments every time she strayed too close to a Dementor.

They had all seen firsthand the effects of their anger; the lengths they were willing to go for their loved ones. And yet, Anthony seemed to be the only one who still worried. Lucy joked about Riddle a lot, but there was an underlying grief to her jokes. That was an entire pile of emotions he was afraid she wasn't tending to very well— not to mention the thing with Montague. Montague had stalked her for a whole year and then tortured her for (according to Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey) at least a couple hours, on and off. Halfway through class and all throughout lunch. All while Anthony was laying petrified in a bed. If that had happened to him when he was twelve, if he was tormented and tortured, and if he then lost a close friend, he wouldn't know what to do. He wasn't sure if he could smile after that.

But Lucy did. Smile, that is.

He wondered if she smiled when nobody else was looking.

The thought chilled him, and just made him feel more tormented than ever. His mum always told him his heart was too big for his own good, and he was tempted to agree with her.

At last, Anthony said strongly, "We had a great time." He looked toward Lucy, and a warm smile pulled at his lips. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were lucky people to be able to call Lucy Rochester their best friend. Tom Riddle did not realize how lucky he was to have her complete trust; to have someone that cared about him even after he lied and toyed with her mind. His cub was definitely an extraordinary girl. She was so ridiculous, they both were. Anthony and Lucy were both very strange. They were so like siblings.

"The best time," he finished, as Lucy fixed him with a strange look. He grinned and cooed, "Because we're like siblings, isn't that right, Lucy? Isn't that right?" he said this sentence in a high pitched tone, batting his eyelashes on her.

Things were getting a bit too sentimental in that wonderful, beautiful brain of his! Siblings as they were, he was allowed to bully her all he liked.

"Isn't that right?" he continued, cooing at her.

"Get away, fiend," she hissed at him. She scooted back toward Daisy and jabbed a finger at him in warning, "Or I'll start cursing at you. In Parseltongue. You don't want to be called a bitch in parseltongue, Anthony, I'll tell you that much. It does things to the soul. Terrible things."

Daisy glanced down at Lucy, who managed to appear both incredibly frightened of Anthony yet also filled with fighting spirit, and couldn't help but snicker to herself. "Yes, I can see the two of you got along swimmingly," she said with a good-natured roll of her eyes. "Now— is anyone else wondering why there's a muggle television in the common room?"

Lucy blinked at her innocently. Heidi shrugged carelessly, while Maxine seemed to not have heard the question at all, as she was wrestling with Cedric for a packet of chocolate covered raisins. Herbert was the only one that nodded along with her.

Anthony sighed at Daisy like she had just said something incredibly absurd. "You're a bit slow on the uptake there, Locke. I expected a long lecture, maybe a threat or two. I'm a bit disappointed, really." He reached into the bag of Alakazamo's and grabbed a crisp, "Blueberry!" he sang, and threw it into his mouth just as it turned blue.

"You don't have to sing the flavor every time, mate," Cedric groaned.

"I assure you, Ceddy, I do. And so I will."

"It's your iron will and dedication, Anthony, that makes me regret our divorce."

"You really have missed me, haven't you, Smedrick?" Anthony leaned closer with a grin. "I knew you'd come crawling back eventually... What made you change your mind? Was it when you saw me falling for a real man like Tom Riddle?"

Lucy bent over the back of the couch and, very dramatically, pretended to vomit.

Anthony ignored her and continued, "Or was it when you saw me lying oh-so-bravely in a hospital bed, my fingers interlocked with another?" Daisy's lips quirked upward at this, and she fought her smile as she cast Anthony a sidelong glance. "Or— and correct me if I'm wrong— was it when—"

"You admitted you thought secstricity was a proper word for the past five years? Yes, Anthony, yes it was!" Cedric pretended to be overjoyed as he reached forward, grabbing Anthony's forearm. "You know how much I like idiots, Anthony, of course I couldn't contain myself!"

This was not going the way Anthony wanted it to go at all. He frowned at Cedric, trying to think of how to turn this conversation in his favor, when Daisy groaned loudly and sank back into the sofa.

"I just want to know why there's a telly in the middle of our common room!" she cried, placing her hands over her face in anguish. "Why are you people so— so —"

"Handsome?" Cedric suggested.

"Charming?" Anthony added.

Heidi straightened up, "Cheerful?"

"Hilarious?" Maxine grinned.

"Clever?" Herbert said seemingly without thinking, but then winced as he saw Daisy remove her hands and shoot him a deadly look. Daisy turned to Lucy, daring her to say anything.

"I believe the word you're looking for, Daisy, is 'unbearable', a sentiment I completely agree with," Lucy said, smiling. Anthony shot her a betrayed look, to which she pulled a face at. "Shut up, Gumshoe. This is revenge for snitching on me to Siri—" And, completely forgetting Sirius Black was wanted for mass murder, she trailed off until a replacement word came to mind,"Siiiiiirrrr! Sir Remus! That guy!"

"Teacher's pet," Anthony muttered.

Absolutely not, Lucy thought, that was not a title she was allowing anyone to call her. She'd been less offended when Dumbledore suspected she was terrorizing the school on purpose. She glowered at Anthony. How dare he. How dare he presume to scorn the nature of the one Lucille Eve Gina Esmee Naomi Diana Eleine Rochester.

"You're not gonna like what happens next," she said lowly.

Anthony rolled his eyes. "What are you going to do? Complain at me? Hit me with your little fists?"

"I'm warning you, Anthony. I have a severe lack of self restraint. Don't tempt me."

Max chuckled and leaned over to Anthony. "These first years are getting out of hand," she said, shooting Lucy a rather mocking wink. Lucy glared at her. Maxine was strong and cool, but she was also annoying and monstrous.

"I know, Max. They're rather feisty, aren't they? Too bad ickle Lucy couldn't harm a fly." At this point, Anthony was asking for death.

Did Lucy's reputation really mean so little, these days? There once was a time when all she had to do to ward off annoying classmates was to smile at them creepily and tell them disturbing things. Now, it seemed, people found her threats charming, her creepy smiles silly. She was rather offended, really.

Maybe she was the one who was getting softer... Her first year, she had been a little curse-happy and would hex, jinx, and curse anyone who slightly annoyed her, the majority of her targets being Malfoy (deservedly), Crabbe and Goyle (maybe they didn't always deserve it, but, come on. It was Crabbe and Goyle.), and Marcus Flint (Did she really need to explain this one?).

Second year, she had not drawn nearly as much attention to herself. It wasn't that she was tired of hexing people or pulling pranks— she loved causing a bit of chaos, committing senseless acts of trouble. But Tom disapproved, and Tom told her to stop. Lucy had happily listened to him, because making Tom happy made her happy.

And since he had so rudely left her at Hogwarts alone, she was left with the burden of restoring her former fame.

Anthony and Maxine continued to make jokes at Lucy's expense, their mirth only growing as Lucy's glare intensified. These fools had no idea who they were messing with.

"Hey, guys?" Lucy interrupted them, her voice uncharacteristically cheerful. The sort of cheerfulness she hadn't used in quite a while. Anthony and Maxine both shot her surprised looks. As soon as they met her gaze, her smile turned even brighter. "Vengeance has arrived," she said sweetly.

"Pardon—?" Heidi cut in, but Lucy's wand was already out.

"Tenalaecus!"

As quick as a blink, the entire room was covered in darkness. Herbert was the first one to yelp and jump off the couch in surprise, and Cedric soon followed, though he tripped on the coffee table and fell sideways onto the floor. He wished for a moment that Lucy had not cleaned up the wrappers because they might have been able to cushion his fall. "What the hell!" Cedric complained.

"Teacher's pet, am I?" Lucy continued, grinning evilly. She thought in her head about how she'd like to be able to see, and intuitively, the Dark Mist parted from directly in front of her and continued to move out of her way wherever she looked. Her gaze landed on Cedric. He was able to get up with the ability to see, and he stared at her, shocked.

"That was— that was you last year?" Cedric demanded, "You broke the Great Hall?"

Maxine's laughter split through the air and she exclaimed, "Bloody hell, that's amazing!"

"Can you let it up?" Herbert pleaded, "I can't see anything."

"Sure," Lucy said. She vanished the mist from everywhere except a small little cloud beside her, which was pulsing with red light to the rhythm of her heartbeat. She had not used this spell since the end of last year, and at once she was reminded of how nice it felt. It was incredibly interesting, too, to know the way Dark Magic worked and how it could be used. Her little cloud was useful. Very useful. Perhaps she shouldn't have written it off so quickly.

She reached out and presented her fist to the cloud. The cloud formed into the shape of a fist too, and met her first bump.

"Now that's just fucking wicked," Maxine turned and jostled Heidi. "Is that Dark Magic?"

"How would I know?" Heidi snorted, shoving her back.

"It is Dark Magic," Daisy informed them all. She was still lounging on the couch. In fact, in the midst of the chaos she had made herself more comfortable, taking up Herbert's evacuated spot. She absolutely could not be bothered about anything right now. "I hate being Head Girl. I'm supposed to report that to the Headmaster, you know," she said wearily.

"Will you?" Anthony said knowingly.

"'Course not. Hufflepuffs protect their own, the same as Slytherins do. Besides, nobody was hurt," she snorted. "And— wait, where did the television go?!" Daisy sat up straight and stared in shock at the now completely spotless common room, barren of the gigantic television that had been there a moment before.

Anthony glanced over at her. He tried hard to fight the smile that was growing on his face.

"You said it was taking up too much space, so I moved it," he said innocently.

"Yes, but... moved it where?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it kind of does!"

"It'll be back," Anthony said, ominously. "I won't say where... or when... but it will return... Mark my words, Daisy Locke."

Daisy stared at him blankly for what felt like a whole minute, but was probably only a couple of seconds. And then, unable to help herself, she started laughing, starting quietly until she was doubled over into Herbert's shoulder, tears leaking from her eyes. Anthony's evil expression vanished, and he started smiling at Daisy.

It never ceased to amaze Lucy that no matter how ridiculous and dramatic they all behaved, no matter the scale of the pranks they pulled on each other, she and her fellow Hufflepuffs always ended up as they were now: sitting around one another and chatting calmly.

---

Lucy was resolute in her opinion that Grayble was the most evil pet she had ever owned, and she'd named her toad after Lord Voldemort.

Here she was, an absolute angel of a girl, trying to catch a nice morning's sleep. She was fully prepared to sleep through breakfast— she'd planned for it. There were lots of rules to break in the upcoming weeks and losing out on sleep was simply not ideal for her creative criminal process. But did Grayble care? Noooo. Of course he didn't. All he cared about was food and sleep, and since he'd obviously had his fill with the former, he decided he needed the latter, immediately.

And apparently, Lucy's head was in the way of his favorite pillow. She woke up to the feeling of his weight pressed against her chest and his yellow eyes staring right into her soul. As soon as he realized she had woken, he pressed his nose right up against hers and sneezed.

"AGH!"

Lucy wiped at her face, disgusted, and in her hurried movements, she ended up falling over sideways off the bed. The amount of times this had happened to her was ridiculous and she was considering taking legal action if Hogwarts did not respond accordingly. How dare Grayble. How dare he?

She was tempted to feel sorry for Tom, thinking of all the times she had sneezed on him. Then again, he'd sort of done that whole 'possessing her while she thought she was soundly asleep' thing. Plus, he was secretly Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard to walk the face of the earth... Yeah, so maybe he did deserve a few sneezes. But she didn't!

When Lucy sneezed on people, it was retribution. Grayble was simply a bitch.

"One of these days, I am going to tell you the truth about your origin," she said darkly, pushing herself off the ground. "And you are going to be very disturbed."

Grayble mewed at her and promptly fell asleep.

If he were a shade less adorable, she would have slain him.

Anyways... Time for school!

She looked at her alarm clock and realized that it was rather early. She looked around her dorm, realizing all the other girls were still fast asleep. She was surprised they hadn't woken up after she had yelped and fallen out of bed. Well, to be fair, Lucy ended up doing that a lot. She wasn't even that clumsy of a person. It was only at Hogwarts where she found herself tripping over door frames and bumping into things. She swore the castle was sentient, and if that was the case, it had a twisted sense of humor.

With Grayble settled in her bed, she really had no other choice but to go to breakfast. Giving her bastard cat one last glare, she opened up her backpack and gathered her uniform, then headed into the bathroom to get ready for the day. She went about her usual routine: skirt, shirt, tie, socks— but when she began to slip on her shoes, she found that they were uncomfortably tight. She could sort of force her foot inside, but it was not pleasant.

Lucy stared, dumbfounded. She had owned these shoes since her first year. It did not occur to her that one day, she would grow out of them.

"Blonde moment," she whispered, briefly slapping her hand to her forehead. Served her right for being stingy about buying school supplies. She could sort of remember Hermione nagging her about getting extra pours of shoes, but then again, Hermione nagged her about a lot of stuff. "Whatever," she shrugged at last. It wasn't a huge deal or anything.

She kicked off the shoes and tossed them into the corner for now. She'd have to ask Percy for an enlarging spell. She could go to Anthony, but Anthony was old news, as Harry would say, and she hadn't bothered Percy in a while.

One thing was for certain, Lucy was not going to blister her feet walking around in shoes that were too small for her. She went back to her dorm and grabbed her trusty old yellow sneakers, finding them much easier to wear. She used to resent them for being too big and causing her to trip sometimes, but now she realized Mrs. Cole had bought them that way for the express purpose of Lucy growing into them.

Huh. The older Lucy got, the more she realized Mrs. Cole had been kind of awesome.

Maybe Tom was the one who hadn't matured, the wise part of her brain helpfully supplied.

Lucy paused in tying her shoe-laces. Now, there's no need for blasphemy, brain. He's still our prefect, she reminded herself, because insulting Tom always felt worse than appreciating him, but appreciating him was so much harder than insulting him.

She finished tying her shoes, grabbed her bag, and went to leave— but saw, sticking from under her pillow, her diary. Quickly, she moved forward to hide it again, figuring the other girls wouldn't like the sight of it, but hesitated. Without thinking about it too much, she opened the diary, grabbed the pieces of Tom's photograph, and dropped them into her cardigan's pocket.

Hopefully this week she could find a way to fix it. Not because she was, you know, sad or anything. It was a matter of principle. Jennifer-Courtney-What's-Her-Face-Bishop had torn up a piece of Lucy's property, and Lucy could not let it remain ruined.

Besides. She hadn't gotten Tom a present this year. Maybe, wherever he was or wasn't, he would appreciate her fixing it.

A short while later, Lucy found herself inside Gryffindor Tower, waiting for any of her friends to come down the stairs. She would have gone up to the dormitories to wake them up herself, but good old Head Boy Percy was in the common room and there was no way he was going to let Lucy hex the third years out of bed.

"Please?" Lucy had tried, giving him her biggest doe-eyes.

"No," Percy said flatly. "It's against the rules to hex other students."

"So are snowball fights and midnight duels," she pointed out.

Percy''s eyes widened, and he quickly looked around to make sure none of the other students had heard her. Nobody else was paying them any attention as most of them were heading out of the common room to breakfast, but Percy still acted as though he'd be arrested if anyone found out. Seeing the coast was clear, he cleared his throat and straightened up. "Yes, well, we haven't done that this year either," he said in a rather haughty voice. "And it's different this year, too. I'm Head Boy—"

"Are you?" Lucy cut in, acting surprised.

He gave her an unimpressed stare. "— and at the time I was a prefect. Prefects are allowed to patrol the school after curfew."

She had to scowl at Percy. She couldn't help it. Sometimes, Percy was a delight to spend time with and he had lots of interesting information to tell her. Other times he was a pompous git and she couldn't stand him. "Prefects are allowed to patrol the school after curfew," she mimicked in a bad impersonation of him, "Sometimes you pain me, Weasley."

Percy looked unbearably smug. If any one of his siblings had mocked him like that, he would have been sore. But he'd come to realize that when Lucy resorted to mimicking, it meant she was losing the argument and trying to turn it around in her favor. "I was going to say I might fetch Ron and Harry for you," he began, standing from the armchair. He made a show of checking his watch, "But I think Penny will be waiting for me in the Great Hall."

"Clearwater? Gross!" Lucy wrinkled up her nose and backed away from Percy. "You are a disgusting man. And a cruel one. You know who would have gotten Ron and Harry for me? Fred and George. That's who. Do you want me to think you're less reliable than Frederick and Geoffrey Weasley? Is that truly the reputation you want to leave Hogwarts with?"

Percy was already walking toward the portrait hole.

Lucy glared after him, "I'll remember this, Weasley!"

"Have a good morning, Lucy," Percy said without turning around. "Don't wait around for too long, either. Dumbledore's making an announcement this morning." The portrait swung closed behind him.

Lucy turned away, sinking down into the armchair with a pout. It was a sad day when Percival Weasley got the best of her.

Lucy waited not-so-patiently until her friends surfaced from their dormitories. She was, admittedly, impressed by their synchronized entrances; as Ron and Harry came down the stairs from the boys' dorm, Hermione was making her way down the girls' staircase, Crookshanks nestled in her arms.

Ron spotted Lucy first, and he offered her a sleepy wave along with a grin. "Mornin', Luce," he said through a yawn, so it sounded more like 'Awnin' Ooshf'.

"Awning ooshf yourself, Ronald," Lucy returned in a somber tone. "Harold, you look well this morning. Hermione, a pleasure as always." She stood from the chair and went to scratch Crookshanks under his chin. "And hello to the fluffiest little boy in the whole wide world," she said, talking to the cat like he was a baby. "Who's a bloodthirsty little boy? You are!" Crookshanks hissed, but made no move to bite or claw at her. "So cuuuute!" she cooed, squishing his face.

"I'm glad some people know how to treat cats." Hermione threw Ron a pointed look. At once, he bristled, glowering at her.

"If some people learned how to control their cat, maybe it'd get treated a bit better," he snapped back at her. "If I was the one who had a cat and you had a rat, you'd be at my throat all the time to control it."

Lucy had to agree with Ron here. If Scabbers was an actual rat and not a creepy old guy posing as one, she'd definitely back him up. As it was, she couldn't really bring herself to defend Peter, even if she was faking it. She simply stayed quiet and hoped their bickering would pass quickly.

"You've got Scabbers with you all the time, Ron," Hermione said, sounding exasperated. "I've only just gotten Crookshanks— do you expect me to shut him in my dormitory whenever we see each other? I've got just as much of a right to carry my pet around as you do."

Lucy, rather startled from the sudden intensity of the argument, looked toward Harry with a wide-eyed expression. He made an awkward sort of grimace and shrugged helplessly, as though this was a daily occurrence.

"I never said you didn't have a right," Ron hissed, "But your bloody cat's been hunting Scabbers all the time! How hard is it to tell him not to? I never see you trying to stop him 'til he's already gone and pounced at him. Scabbers has scratches all over him!"

It was becoming clear Harry was not going to diffuse the argument as Lucy hoped he would. Harry was great, he really was, but he wasn't exactly helpful when it came to speaking up to his friends, especially not Ron and Hermione. Lucy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She should have expected this, really. She was the Hufflepuff of the group, it was only natural she would have to be the one to smooth over all the arguments.

Hufflepuffs were loving, nurturing, and kind. She would handle this situation with delicacy and grace.

She cupped her hands around her mouth.

"FATHER'S HAD ENOUGH NOW!"

Ron and Hermione both flinched as Lucy shouted at the top of her lungs, and the plenty of other Gryffindors leaving the common room displayed varying degrees of surprise. Crookshanks let out an awful screech, as though his tail had been stepped on, and jumped out of Hermione's arms, rushing back up the girls' dormitory stairs.

Ron's expression turned utterly confused, and Hermione rounded on Lucy for frightening her. But Lucy's face was cold and unmoving. Her arms were crossed sturdily over her chest, and while she wasn't taller than any of her friends, she stared each and every one of them in the eye.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves," Lucy began sternly, possibly channelling Mrs. Cole by accident. She waited until they looked thoroughly abashed before she dropped the act and rolled her eyes.

"But really, can you two give it a rest?" she complained. "You're meant to be friends, and all you do is argue like an old married couple." Outraged, Ron opened his mouth to argue, and Hermione went as quiet as a mouse. "How about you both leave your pets in your dormitories, or you take turns on who brings their pet to class. Since I'm sure Ron has Scabbers with him today, Hermione can just bring Crookshanks tomorrow."

"That's a great idea, Luce," Harry hastened to add, standing next to Lucy as though he had been thinking this the entire time. She resisted the urge to laugh at how awkward the Boy-Who-Lived could be at times. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Now can we go to breakfast...?"

"Fine," Hermione said stiffly. Without so much as a glance in Ron's direction, she walked ahead of them and over to the portrait hole. Lucy and Harry shared an exasperated look before following behind her. They caught up to her easily. Lucy was glad to have Harry separating her from Hermione, and furthermore having Ron the furthest from Hermione. One day those two were going to end up duelling.

It took a few minutes of Lucy needling at both Ron and Hermione, but finally, the tense silence dissipated. They returned to a somewhat easy atmosphere. Lucy knew Hermione was back to normal when her friend, as usual, went about her usual routine of well-meaning but still-annoying nagging.

Now, Lucy had to admit that Hermione was far less uptight than she used to be, but there were a few rules the Gryffindor could not ignore. One of those rules being the school uniform, a sentiment Lucy had completely ignored today.

Since she was already breaking dress code by wearing her muggle sneakers, she decided to go the extra mile and left the tie, vest, and robes behind as well, in exchange for an oversized yellow cardigan. It did in fact have the Hufflepuff crest on it. It belonged to Anthony, but she was sure her friend wouldn't mind. Anthony was something of a clothes-Niffler himself, stealing from every single one of his friends, whether it was Lucy's Weasley sweaters, Cedric's robes, or Maxine's Quidditch jerseys.

Hermione was simply worried about McGonagall's reaction, since the woman was a stickler for proper attire.

"It's not my fault! My shoes are too small," Lucy defended herself at once.

"Didn't you get new ones?" Hermione said exasperatedly.

"The old ones fit fine at the time," Lucy defended. "Shoes are a big investment, y'know. You can't just go around buying them. They're like wands, they choose the wizard, you get me?" Ron snorted. Grinning, Lucy wrapped an arm around Ron's shoulders. "This guy gets me," she declared.

Hermione had to smile as well. She shook her head fondly. "Well, I'm sure you can transfigure them bigger, but if for some reason you can't, I have a spare pair in my room—" she looked down at Lucy's feet, and added, "—which will be far too big for you, now that I think about it. You really haven't grown all that much compared to the rest of us."

Lucy was affronted. How dare Hermione? Lucy's stature had nothing to do with her physical appearance and everything to do with the manliness of her soul. "Shut up, Granger," she grumbled.

She felt a sudden pressure at the top of her head and looked up to see Ron had rested his arm there. "Don't worry, Luce, this just means you make the rest of us look tall."

Lucy's scowl intensified. She looked toward Harry, daring him to make a snide comment, but he was wise enough to remain silent. In fact, he was giving her a look of understanding. Now that she thought about it, he was around the same height as her. They both hadn't exactly gotten their growth spurts yet. Lucy was beginning to wonder if that was an orphan thing, or if it was strictly a case of bad luck.

"One day we will surpass them," she whispered to him.

"D'you think there's a potion that does that?" Harry whispered back, knowing full well Ron and Hermione could hear them.

"Maybe. Do you know how to brew?"

"No. You?"

"No. I cheated all throughout last year. Voldy was a bit of a potions nerd."

"Lucky you," Harry muttered, but he shot her a grin to let her know he was joking. She snickered. "Next time you find a book that helps with potions, send it my way, alright? I'd love to see the look on Snape's face if I brewed a perfect potion."

Ron and Lucy both laughed at that. Hermione pursed her lips. "You could brew a perfect potion if you tried, Harry," she told him.

"With Snivellus breathing down his neck?" Lucy shook her head, still laughing. "That's a good one, Granger."

Ron and Harry's laughter grew louder, to the point where Ron had to pull his arm away to cover his mouth with his fist. As he tried to contain himself, he shot Lucy a watery look. "Snivellus?" he uttered. "Where'd you get that?"

God damn it, Sirius.

You and your catchy insults, she thought, grumbling. Getting them stuck in my head.

"Who cares?" Harry chuckled, "It fits, doesn't it? Wouldn't mind calling him that myself."

Lucy stopped in her tracks. She grabbed Harry by his shoulders, staring at him with wide eyes. "Harry James Potter..." she said sternly, "If you wish to see the sun rise ever again, you will never call Snape that name. Do you understand me?"

She could imagine it now, watching Harry walk up to Snape, uttering the forbidden name... Snape would pull out his wand and kill him on the spot, if he didn't torture him first for good measure...

The Marauders and Snape had been at war with one another. The nickname, Snivellus, was a sacred thing. Sirius often told her it was Professor Snape's pressure point. Of course, he encouraged Lucy to call him Snivellus at the first chance she got— but Lucy didn't really fancy dying anytime soon. The potions master couldn't stand Lucy enough as it was. They were at a safe point in their mutual dislike of one another where they were openly cruel, but neither went out of their way to plot the other's demise. Snape still tried to get her expelled, when the opportunity presented itself. If she called him the sacred name, all hell would break loose.

She gripped Harry's shoulders tighter. "Do you understand me?" she repeated.

"Uh... yes?" Harry pushed her arms away, giving her an odd look. "I'm not completely mental, Luce."

"Good." She plastered a bright smile on her face and continued walking. "Now! Breakfast!"

"We deserve death, you and I."

Harry jumped, startled as his friend lay a heavy hand on his shoulder, her cryptic message low and remorseful in his ear. He threw her a questioning glance, but Lucy was staring at the professors' table, a disgusted look on her face. She pointed at the cluster of new faces, the ones whom he was about to point out himself.

"Do you see that?" she continued, jabbing her finger violently at them.

Her motion drew the attention of the unfamiliar figures. Hastily, Harry grabbed her arm and forced it down at her side. "Of course I see them," he said exasperatedly, "We knew they were coming, Dumbledore told us himself. Remember."

"I didn't think he'd actually do it!"

Lucy was very displeased with herself. At first, she thought it would be a wonderful idea for the Dementors to leave Hogwarts. She collapsed in the presence of them nearly every time, and they were more familiar with Sirius Black than anything else. She figured Dumbledore might bring in, oh, an old prefect or two, maybe a retired professor. The Headmaster was sentimental, and he had never before taken drastic action when it came to the school's security. The last time he'd brought Aurors in, it was when Lucy held the Great Hall hostage, and while inconvenient, it was understandable.

The point being: Lucy had been prepared for security. Glorified prefects.

Dumbledore had hired hunters.

There were seven in total.

They were all dressed in long, black cloaks, seemingly made for the sole purpose of slinking around unnoticed. The professors' table had been extended to make room for the new arrivals, implying their stay was, at the point in time, indefinite. Next to Professor Snape was an obvious Slytherin. She couldn't make out his facial features from here, but the way he conducted himself mirrored Professor Snape, both of their expressions detached, but still attentive. His hair fell past his shoulders in a traditional Pureblood fashion, and he sported a dark, neatly trimmed beard that was peppered with white hairs.

Dumbledore was speaking with the two women in the group. One of them had long dark hair, but was otherwise too far away for Lucy to make out other features. The woman beside her was fairly young, with brown skin and curly hair that ended above her shoulders. Both women were clearly familiar with Dumbledore, as they were laughing at every other sentence.

Next to them was a man with light brown hair combed neatly out of his face. Thick, black spectacles balanced on the bridge of his nose, and he pushed them up as he turned a page in the Daily Prophet. Lucy paused in her observations to pull a face at him. He looked like a typical, boring, fun-hating man, and yes she knew she was being judgemental, but she was Lucy Rochester, and she was never wrong.

Just then, the man looked up from the Daily Prophet and glanced over at her. A warm smile broke through his serious demeanor, eyes lighting up as he offered her a wave.

"God dammit, now I feel bad," Lucy grumbled to herself. She waved back at him, still glaring. He seemed amused, for some reason, before turning back to the Daily Prophet.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Ah. In the midst of Lucy's expert profiling, she had forgotten the existence of her best mate.

Without looking at him, she snapped, "Quiet, Potter. I'm having an internal dialogue."

"Then keep it internal," he suggested.

Lucy skewered him with a glare. Prat. When did he get so sassy? She made a mental note to fight him to the death later, then she put her detective hat back on and continued judging all the new people.

The next two guards also sat by one another, both ignoring everyone else at the table, content to their own company. Lucy had to question, however, the nature of their discussion, because they both looked simultaneously disgusted with their surroundings but pleased to be there at the same time. They had red hair, a rusty shade that was nearer to brown than anything. Lucy squinted. Either they were siblings close in age, or outright twins. She wasn't certain.

Last, but certainly not least, was Ross Meadowes, who was beside himself with joy to be sitting next to Professor Sprout at the professors' table.

Okay. Ross was here.

Maybe Lucy could reduce the count to six hunters, then, instead of seven.

"Monologue over," Lucy announced. She turned to look at Harry, only to find he'd abandoned her and was now all the way over at the Gryffindor table, while she was left to stand at the Entrance, looking like a complete dolt. "And friendship over," she declared, huffing.

She went toward the Hufflepuff table, but her attention was drawn to a certain group of Slytherins, all of whom were staring at her. Draco Malfoy— the man, the myth, the bastard— was waving her over and completely ignoring the glares of the older Slytherins, the ones who did not like Lucy at all.

She arched an eyebrow at him, but decided to go and see what he wanted.

"Yo," she nodded at him. She grabbed an empty plate and immediately began piling it with various foods.

"Yo?" Malfoy repeated, disgust lacing his tone.

Lucy nodded again. "Yo," she repeated. She scooped hashbrowns onto her plate, shooting him a sidelong glance as she did so. "You dared to call upon my presence, Malfoy. I certainly hope it is for a good reason," she said ominously.

"Would it kill you to act normal for five minutes?" Malfoy snapped. Lucy stared at him, blank-faced. He narrowed his eyes, taking that as enough of an answer. "Ugh, forget it." He turned away from her and glared down at his plate.

Now, Lucy was rather offended, because she was acting normal. At least, for her. She hadn't hexed anyone yet, even though she spotted a group of sixth years whispering nastily amongst each other, none-too-subtly pointing at her. She had managed to restrain herself from flipping them off, and she hadn't said a single cuss word so far. Malfoy should be grateful!

Buuuut, she was rather curious about why he willingly brought her over here. So she restrained her menacing urges. She was about to surprise everyone at this table, because she had indeed read Daphne's etiquette book, and she'd picked up a few tricks from it too. She'd never be a well-behaved pureblood lady, but she had to admit that the etiquette book gave her more insight on how to persuade (and lie to) people.

Lucy braced herself. A moment later, her expression was completely calm, free of any half-grinning or comically widened eyes. There was not a hint of mockery on her face, instead an expression of serenity. "Malfoy, please forgive my abrasiveness," she said, her tone filled with sorrow. Malfoy turned and stared at her, completely shocked. "I hope your holidays found you in good health. My thanks for your gift."

Malfoy was gaping at her now. He raised one of his hands and pointed a finger at her, steadily drawing closer to his face. If Lucy was not committed to her role at the moment, she would have absolutely tried to bite his finger off like a feral animal. She stayed perfectly still as he tapped her on the forehead.

"So I'm not hallucinating. You are real," he mused. He cocked his head at her and frowned. "Have you been possessed again? If you are, kill someone who's not on the Quidditch team this time."

Her calm expression vanished at once, and she slapped his hand away, giving him a strong punch on the arm for extra measure. "Now who's acting like a prat!" she snapped.

"I told you to act normal, not like a freak."

"I was literally embodying any given Slytherin at this table, so what does that say about you lot?"

"Now, Rochester, there's no need to insult the rest of us here," Blaise cut in. He looked at Malfoy and shot him a smirk. "But it does seem like Rochester is acting like more of a Slytherin than you are."

"Excuse me?" Malfoy hissed.

Daphne spread some honey over her toast and shot Malfoy an amused glance as well, before turning to face Lucy. "I see you made good use of the book I sent you. Thank you for the sweets by the way, they were lovely. They were from my favorite shop, too."

Well, of course— they were only the most expensive sweets on the market. Lucy smiled at her anyway. Even though Daphne was a bit of a snob— well, all her Slytherin friends as of now were snobs— she liked her anyway. "Of course, Greengrass." Lucy looked over at Malfoy and decided to be nice. "But really, thanks for the licorice wands. When I told Harry you sent me them, he tried to kill me and then checked me for signs of being poisoned."

Malfoy brightened up at once. "Did he really?"

He looked across to the Gryffindor table and saw Harry glaring daggers at him, along with Ron. Malfoy smirked at him, and in turn Ron cracked his knuckles. For being the same blokes who abandoned Lucy at the entrance, they were both very protective when it came to wandering Malfoys. Harry did a very Lucy-esque action and drew his hand across his throat, pretending to cut it. Afterward, he pointed a threatening finger at Malfoy and mouthed 'you're dead'.

Malfoy was definitely not afraid of Harry, in fact he seemed rather pleased he managed to get under his skin. "I should send you sweets more often," he said smugly. Lucy blinked at him. "Maybe one of these times I will poison them."

"I'm not going to argue against free licorice wands, mate," she shrugged. "Poison's a small price to pay."

"It is a small price, actually. The prices of a decent poison have dropped to only a hundred galleons per vial." It was Nott who offered up this piece of information, without looking up from his book, of course. Lucy was sometimes amazed at the amount of multitasking Nott could do when he was reading a book.

"Good to know," Lucy hummed. Then she remembered she was called over here for a reason. "Malfoy, what the hell do you want to tell me!" she shouted right in his face.

"So much for etiquette," Parkinson muttered to Daphne, who only smiled in response. Pansy wasn't particularly happy Lucy was sitting at the Slytherin table, but for some reason she was holding back an insult.

"I was going to ask you a question," Malfoy leaned away from her and rubbed his ear, like that would somehow make her yelling disappear. "My father told me there would be changes happening to Hogwarts on the first day of term, but he wouldn't tell me what. But he did tell me that you knew what was going to happen, since it was your idea." He eyed Lucy suspiciously and demanded, "What did you do?"

"If it's to do with your father, you'll have to be more specific."

She'd done an awful lot over the past two weeks, she'd hate to limit herself to only one possibility. Could Lucius have been referring to how Sirius stole the Lestrange vault from Draco's inheritance? Very possible. Or did he somehow find out about the huge prank Lucy and her friends were planning on pulling? Also possible.

Malfoy was definitely concerned at the implication Lucy had done more than one thing to unnerve his father. "I'm referring to the robed wizards on the stage. I don't care to know what else you've done."

That was probably for the best. "Those are the new guards," Lucy said, deciding not to be a git for once. "Me and Harry were talking to Dumbledore and we started talking about Dementors, and long story short I mentioned that maybe we could get rid of some of the Dementors if they put some guards at Hogwarts. How many Dementors d'you think they removed? Half? More, hopefully?"

Pansy made herself known with a disgusted scoff. "They shouldn't have removed any! Are you mad? Black'll kill us all in our sleeps within the week!"

Lucy didn't even dignify her with a response. She kept her attention on Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise, acting as if she hadn't heard Pansy at all. "So I know that's Ross up there, but who are the other people? Don't you snakes know them?"

"Some of them, yes, but be patient. It looks like Dumbledore is going to introduce them shortly here," Nott said.

Grumbling, she resigned herself to the fact that she'd have to wait.

The remainder of breakfast was spent peacefully, with Lucy quietly waiting for Dumbledore to make his announcements. She always found it annoying how he waited until the end of breakfast to say his piece, even when the object of his announcements was blatantly obvious.

Lucy, still mentally complaining to herself, picked up the jar of honey and poured it over the remainder of her hashbrowns.

At once, the Slytherins around her made disgusted noises. Daphne actually reached over and snatched the bottle away from her, calling her a child, while Malfoy pointed his wand at her plate and vanished the food altogether.

Lucy was quite miffed at this because she was intending to eat those. Malfoy caught her indignant expression and scowled at her.

"There are certain laws of nature at the Slytherin table," he said, his tone disgusted, "And you've just broken one that I didn't know existed."

"You people never let me have any fun," Lucy grumbled.

Nott and Daphne shared a long glance, before Daphne looked toward Lucy. "Believe me, Rochester, you have too much fun," Daphne said firmly.

Eventually, the Heads of Houses descended from the stage and started handing out the schedules. Professor Sprout had, of course, spotted Lucy over at the Slytherin table, what with her yelling and being a general 'blip' at the calm table, and came over to hand Lucy her timetable first.

"My eternal thanks, Pomana," Lucy told her in a very charming voice.

"You're eternally welcome, Lucy," Professor Sprout replied without missing a beat. She smiled at her student and continued over to the Hufflepuff table.

Blaise stared after her with a disapproving expression.

"Too soft," he shook his head. "Professor Snape would have had my head if I used that tone with him."

"It's because I'm pretty and you're not," Lucy informed him. Blaise shot her a flat look. She sighed. "Okay, you're very pretty, I'm sorry, Zabini. Won't let it happen again."

"Thank you."

Professor Snape came over next, and he must have purposefully turned a blind eye to Lucy this morning, because he handed her a schedule without even noticing she wasn't meant to be at the Slytherin table. This was too great a chance to pass up, so she acted completely normal as she took it into her hands. The Slytherins had Potions last, evidently.

"With the Gryffindors again, Professor?" Lucy said in her best impression of a polite-yet-disappointed Slytherin.

Snape didn't even glance at her as he handed Daphne her timetable. "Unfortunately so."

"Seems like Dumbledore hates us some days."

"I would have to agree..." Snape finally registered that Lucy was at the Slytherin table. She had one hand under her chin, frowning down at her schedule like she really was a Slytherin and like she truly was disappointed with it. At once, Professor Snape frowned at her. "Why are you here, Rochester?"

"Draco invited me," she said, again without looking up. Snape looked over and glared murderously at Malfoy, who cringed away from him.

Lucy squinted at the timetable, "You know they spelled your name wrong on this thing, Professor?" She held up the paper and pointed to his name, which she had discretely charmed to say 'Professor Sprinkles.' She tilted her head and frowned. "Sometimes I cannot believe the audacity of some people," she said, shaking her head.

Snape said nothing. He swiftly snatched the paper out of her hand.

She yelped as the paper accidentally caught her across the palm, giving her a paper cut. It wasn't deep or anything, but it was rather long. She would never forgive Professor Snape for this. Paper cuts were a bigger offense to her than the Cruciatus Curse.

Lucy shot him a reproachful look. "Tom would have petrified you for that," she told him, shaking her head once again. "Just letting you know." He did try and petrify Filch for leaving a bruise on her wrist, and he went after Lockhart just because Lucy didn't like him.

Snape shot her one last glare before continuing down the table. She was disappointed when he figured out ignoring her was the easiest way of dealing with her; it was so much more fun when he would argue with her until he exploded, then getting loads of House Points taken away, as well as loads of detentions. Better times, she sighed to herself.

After the schedules were passed out and the professors had settled themselves at the table, Professor Dumbledore finally pried himself from his conversation and ambled over to the podium. Before he'd even uttered a word, the Great Hall quieted down, eagerly awaiting the new guests.

Lucy was a bit ashamed to overhear conversations from the Hufflepuff table, ranking the guards on their attractiveness. Nonetheless, she noted their individual placements, so that she may pass the information along to Sirius. It was very important for a person to know the cuteness of the person trying to kill them.

"Hello!" Dumbledore began, smiling around at everyone. "Welcome back, all! I hope you have enjoyed your vacation, and if you did not, I should hope our food this morning has made up for it." There was a round of chuckles, but Lucy's face remained stony, thinking of her poor, innocent hashbrowns. "I will not hedge around for much longer. As I'm sure you have noticed, we are joined by new faces today. These generous witches and wizards volunteered to join us for a short stretch of time; they were enlisted by the Minister himself to stand guard at Hogwarts for the coming months, or however long it may take until Sirius Black is apprehended."

Lucy frowned as the Great Hall burst into enthusiastic applause, particularly from the Gryffindor section. The guards on the stage gave varying reactions. The Slytherin beside Snape and the two siblings shared smug grins, while the three guards sitting next to Dumbledore seemed grave, almost... resigned? Lucy wondered if they had known Sirius when he was younger.

Dumbledore waited calmly for the chatter to subside. He didn't show any form of reaction to the applause, but continued on as if it didn't happen. "I will let the guards give their own introductions. Auror Rosier, if you will begin..."

Starting at the left end of the table, Snape's new best friend stood to his feet, smoothing down his robes as he did so. His wand slid down his wrist, fitting into the place between his middle and ring finger. He did it so quickly that Lucy hadn't noticed he had taken out his wand at all, until he used it to amplify his voice.

"My name is Arion Rosier," the man said, his voice gravelly but still distinctly posh.

Lucy's eyebrows shot upward. Rosier? As in, related to Evan Rosier, the Death Eater killed by Aurors in the First Wizarding War? Well, it looked like Auror Rosier had just earned himself the label of Weirdo by Lucy, because she could not imagine working for the place that killed her brother. If a ministry official killed Anthony, she'd burn the department down, if not the entire ministry.

"You will address me as Auror Rosier or sir. The Guards' office will be located across from the Hospital Wing. Should you see or hear of any suspicious activity, report it to a guard immediately." Rosier finished his introduction rather abruptly and sat down once more.

Next, the pale-skinned woman stood. "Emmeline Vance," she said curtly. "I look forward to taking up as little of your time as possible." The other woman beside her gave an amused snort, making Miss Vance raise an eyebrow. "Is something amusing, Miss Macdonald?"

Miss Macdonald took this as a cue to rise. She stood awkwardly, banging her knee against the table on the way up, but her enthusiasm didn't fade as she grinned at everyone in the Great Hall. "'Ello, loves," she said serenely. It was clear, already, that she was one of the delightful people in the world that were always so amused with themselves. "I'm Mary Macdonald— I work in the Auror Office, but I'm not an Auror. I am what one would call the brains behind the operations. You can call me Mary, Macdonald, Mary Macdonald, anything you want. Just stray away from ma'am, please," Macdonald gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'll keep you lot safe as best I can. If you have any questions or concerns, or you'd like for me to threaten a bully or two, stop by the office, and I'll bang a few skulls together."

Mary Macdonald had certainly secured the students' respect with her short little speech. The Weasley twins had both stood up to applaud her after she sat down, and it might have had something to do with the fact that Miss Macdonald had been ranked number one on the cuteness list, at least from the Hufflepuff table. Lucy politely applauded along with the other Houses but was irritated to find herself receiving glares from many of the Slytherins.

"Look at Professor Snape," Blaise chortled suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to the Potions Master. Indeed, Professor Snape was looking at Macdonald with overt hatred. He jerked his head so that he was facing away from her, but he had shown his hand; anyone paying attention could have seen how much he despised her.

"Someone's not happy," Lucy snorted, "Think she rejected him back when they attended Hogwarts? They look the same age."

"I highly doubt that," Malfoy said haughtily. "Macdonald isn't a wizarding name. Professor Snape would never court a mud—" Lucy stomped hard on his foot, and he yelped out the word, "—uggleborn, Merlin, Rochester!"

Lucy cheerfully ignored him. She returned her attention to the introductions, just in time to see the friendly man stand up. He, Lucy believed, had been ranked number three, just behind Ross Meadowes.

"I will not even attempt to make my introduction as entertaining as Miss Macdonald's, so I will forgo the banter." Lucy wanted to groan. The friendly man was lame. She should have known he was a nerd by the glasses, but really... "I'll keep my part short. I work as an Investigator in the Auror Department, and I teach weekend classes at Gamp's Institute of Wizarding Law. I'm a full-time father as well, although I don't get paid nearly enough."

"So lame," Lucy looked at the heavens, begging for an introduction. This man's deep voice might even rival Professor Binns. "Soooo lame."

Daphne, Theodore, and Malfoy were all giving her strange looks.

She pulled a face at them. "What?"

Still standing, the man didn't look remotely abashed at the varying amounts of oh god, why, shut up, he had just caused, in fact he seemed to be revelling in it.

Macdonald put her wand to her throat and announced loudly to the Great Hall, "The old man forgot his own name."

He started, a look of realization on his face. "It appears you are correct," he mused. He cleared his throat, fixing his glasses again. "Right. My name is Atticus, Atticus Rickett. You may call me—"

"FATHER?!"

Everyone in the Great Hall, Lucy included, jumped at the sudden screech coming from the Hufflepuff table. She turned around to see her dear friend Anthony frantically rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Evidently, he'd slept through breakfast and neglected to notice that his dad had arrived.

Lucy was also horrified, but for different reasons. She had just called Anthony's dad lame. She had made fun of him, mocked him, even. She was a terrible friend! This man was, like, her grandfather or something, she didn't really know how the family dynamic worked anymore, but dammit, she'd been a monster!

Atticus let out a rich laugh. He gestured toward his son, who was still staring in sheer horror at the sight of his father invading his school, being awkward and lame in front of everyone. "Well, yes, you're technically right, son. But I would prefer if everyone else would call me Atticus." His joke earned a good amount of chuckles this time, only worsening Anthony's state of mind.

"FATHER?!" Anthony repeated, with just as much horror.

"I think something's broken within him," Theodore observed quietly. Lucy let out a snort that quickly dissolved into giggles when Anthony continued to stand, mouth open in horror, even after his father sat down and the rest of the introductions continued.

The siblings introduced themselves as Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Lucy didn't pay very much attention to what they had to say. She'd already identified them as suspicious individuals, ones who would probably make her life harder in the long-run. She knew from Mallory's bottomless pool of information that the two were ex-Death Eaters and likely had not regretted their actions.

Lucy expected Ross's introduction to wrap things up quickly, since everyone knew him already, and he attended every Quidditch match. She watched as he stood up and flashed everyone a smile.

"Hi. I'm Ross," he said, and he sat down.

The Hufflepuff table exploded into thunderous applause, louder than anything the Gryffindors could dream of conjuring up. The sudden intensity of it, the raucous shouts and banging against the table, Lucy almost fell off the goddamn bench in fright. Every other House turned to shoot the Hufflepuffs frightened looks.

Lucy realized this had to have been planned while the introductions were taking place, and she dissolved into laughter, hiding her face in her arms.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Malfoy demanded, dodging out of the way as a rogue napkin flew at him. "Didn't Meadowes graduate? Why is that idiot always here?"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy," Lucy hissed, suddenly aiming her wand at his neck. In her haste, she had grabbed it the wrong way around, so she hoped Malfoy didn't notice. "Ross Meadowes is the best. Don't you ever forget it."

"You're holding it the wrong way, imbecile," was Malfoy's smart response.

Lucy narrowed her eyes at him and lowered her wand. He'd won this round.

With the Hufflepuffs derailing the entire introductory process, Dumbledore had little choice but to dismiss everyone to their classes. Lucy took her sweet time finishing her breakfast, much to the impatience of her Slytherin companions.

"We're going to be late," Daphne said unhappily.

"Au contraire," Lucy replied in a terrible French accent. She grabbed Malfoy's wrist, earning a yelp from the other boy, and wrenched his arm forward so that his wristwatch was in Daphne's view. Lucy tapped on the surface of the watch. "We're already late. Introductions went past breakfast time."

She let go of Malfoy's arm. He held it to his chest, examining his watch with sharp eyes. "This watch costs more than your life," he grumbled. "So be careful with it."

"Y'know, Malfoy, I've bought some expensive watches in my day. You're really not that special," Lucy informed him, scooping a spoonful of (unfortunately honeyless) hash browns into her mouth. "'S an ug'y wa'ch an'way," she said through a mouthful.

Daphne watched as the galleons she spent on the etiquette book trickled down the drain.

Malfoy was honestly more outraged about her opinion of his watch than he had been when Buckbeak attacked him. "This is a brand new watch. My father gave it to me for Yule, I'll have you know," he said snidely.

"It isn't exactly a Firebolt though, is it?" Lucy said in a very condescending tone.

"What does a Firebolt have to do with anything?" Malfoy demanded.

Lucy smiled. She'd let him see for himself, when the time came.

She didn't answer him, instead choosing to finish up her meal before she had to go to History of Magic, a class she knew she shared with the Slytherins. She was surprised they were waiting around for her. They never hesitated to leave her to her mischievous devices before, which led her to believe they wanted something. She wished Slytherins could get better at outright asking, because quite honestly she was more likely to lend a helping hand that way.

For the next few minutes, Malfoy kept discretely glancing at his watch as if to discern if it was truly ugly or not. Lucy watched him have a quiet breakdown. After she finished her breakfast, she took pity on him. She stood up from the bench and then lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Look. Malfoy," she began, and he met her gaze. She studied him for a few seconds before sighing. "It's— it's not that the watch is ugly. Okay? It's just not as awesome as mine."

Lucy then reached into her backpack pocket and withdrew an ornate, silver pocket watch. It was actually a rather fancy item, and if she sold it in the muggle world, she probably wouldn't have to worry about earning wages for a few months. But the reason she had gotten it so cheap in the magical world was because of its unique tendency to whisper ominously at her.

She had bought the watch on a whim in Knockturn Alley, back when Ye Olde Lame Prefect was still alive and kicking, and her refusal to study the watch or figure out in any way how it worked always annoyed Tom endlessly. She had to lock it away in her backpack at night to keep from disturbing the other girls, but it was very useful back at Wool's Orphanage during the summer before her second year, where she'd stuffed it under Jennifer's floorboard and witnessed her sleeping schedule dissolve into shambles.

This was back when she thought Tom was a goody-goody, so she never made him aware of that scheme of hers. How ironic that he would've loved to hear about it.

Malfoy's reaction to the pocketwatch was as hilarious as Lucy thought it would be. He immediately clambered off the bench, backing away from the item as if it was a ticking time bomb. "Rochester!" He yelped, still shying away from the watch. "Why do you— why d'you keep cursed objects with you? Why do you just have them? You're like a feral niffler!"

Blaise at once roared with laughter at the 'feral niffler' remark, while Lucy was impressed and offended.

"I'll have you know this was a gift from my father, too!" Lucy said, mock-outraged. She brought the watch up to her cheek and caressed it. "Don't listen to the nasty Slytherin, Diablo," she cooed.

"I will feast on your fears and consume your flesh," the watch whispered back at her, followed by a string of other terrible threats.

"Put that away, you fool," Daphne moaned pitifully, pointedly not looking in Lucy's direction until after the girl had stowed her pocket watch away in her backpack again. "Let's go to class before you get us all expelled."

Daphne walked briskly out of the Great Hall, while Blaise and Theodore worked at collecting themselves after their laughing fit. Lucy frowned after the Slytherin girl.

"But it's a good looking watch, isn't it?" Lucy called, following her out.

On the way to History of Magic, Lucy had her suspicions about the Carrows confirmed. Those two were not meant to work around children. She and the Slytherins had the misfortune of passing the Carrows in the corridor, and Lucy was displeased with what she witnessed. Not only were Amycus and Alecto walking down the wrong side of the corridor, but they would not move out of anyone's way. Lucy swore she heard Alecto cuss at a first year as she passed by.

"They're very charming people, the Carrows, aren't they?" Lucy said sarcastically, mostly to herself as they stopped outside the History of Magic classroom. They still had about five minutes before class started, but she could already hear Binns droning on inside- to an empty classroom. He never seemed to notice if there were students inside or not. She learned long ago her only chance of passing History of Magic was to read the textbook herself.

Malfoy overheard her remark and let out a scoff. "They're better than Dumbledore's minions," he said sharply. "If it wasn't for my Father nominating Rosier and the Carrows, us Slytherins wouldn't have anyone looking out for them."

"Yeah, because you're all in sooooo much danger from Sirius Black." She was on a bit of a sarcastic streak, but what could she say, Malfoy brought out the Slytherin in her. She fixed Malfoy with an 'are you stupid' look— it always made him angry. "Last time I checked, Black slashed the Gryffindor entrance, not the Slytherin one. But if you really want a reason to be protected, I can pass a message along to Sirius the next time I see him."

"You're in contact with Black, are you?" Malfoy said dryly.

Lucy sniffed. "We've been known to commune on occasion."

"In that case, tell him to skip the next family reunion, will you? I'm not certain my mother will appreciate his presence."

As he took the spot next to her, Lucy fixed him with a shocked stare. He looked expectantly back at her, but when she didn't say anything, he frowned and snapped a finger in front of her face. "What's wrong with you? You look like a creep."

"Malfoy..." Lucy breathed, "Was that a joke?"

"What?"

"A joke! You just told a joke! And it didn't involve muggleborns or poor people at all!" Lucy beamed and suddenly launched herself at him, pulling him into an entirely too familiar hug, considering they were borderline enemies most of the time. "Awww, I'm so proud of you! You're one step closer to becoming not an arsehole!"

"Bleeding Merlin— get off of me!" the blond boy hissed, trying and failing to pry Lucy off him. "I'll tell Father to execute that ugly Hippogriff if you don't unhand me right now!" In response, she messed up his hair. "ROCHESTER!"

From the table over, Theodore and Daphne shared a look of immense suffering.

Blaise snorted and leaned over to Daphne. "Still trying to indoctrinate her?" he taunted.

Daphne glowered at him. Wisely, Blaise settled back into his seat and didn't say another word.

Then, "Ten galleons says they start dueling."

"Nott!" Daphne hissed, rounding on Theodore. Theodore's face was as impassive as ever, though Blaise was grinning like a madman.

"Twenty galleons says they're both too idiotic to think of using their wands," Blaise countered.

"Zabini!"

"Fine, but it doesn't count if Draco tries to use his wand but can't reach it."

"I despise all of you," Daphne hissed.

An inkwell went flying over her head, shattering against the wall with so much force that Daphne's composure broke. She jumped and then ducked in her seat, eyes wide with shock as she looked back toward Rochester and Draco. Draco had his wand out in some pitiful attempt to ward Rochester off.

Thankfully, Rochester's wand didn't seem to be cooperating with her; it sparked viciously whenever she tried to cast a spell, like someone had placed their thumb over a faucet. Daphne had a few moments of hope where she truly believed Rochester would cut her losses, surrender, and allow them to tune into Professor Binns' lecture (it was downright unbelievable that the professor was ignoring all the chaos).

But, upon realizing her wand wasn't going to behave, Rochester seemed to have another idea in mind. She held her wand in both hands, contemplating. Draco still had his wand pointed at her, eyes wide in anticipation.

"Well..." Lucy began grimly, slowly moving her gaze back to Malfoy. Her lips curled up into an evil grin. "It's still sharp, y'know."

She drew her arm back, maniacal laughter echoing through the classroom. Draco shrieked, diving out of his chair, only to be pursued by everyone's dreaded feral niffler.

Daphne sank down in her seat.

It was going to be a very long class hour.

---

Today was, quite possibly, the worst day of Anthony Rickett's life.

Yes, sure, he had been petrified the year prior, and lost quite a big chunk of his life and education in the blink of an eye— and yes, he was met with the cruel fate of having to cram for his OWLs in two weeks when he could have had months— and okay, yeah, sure, he was still dealing with the shock that one of his friends turned out to be a sadistic Lord Voldemort fanboy, but... TO HELL WITH ALL THAT!

Today sucked! It was the worst!

How could the Gods have cursed him so? What had Anthony done recently, which sinful act did he commit, which line did he broach that would merit such horrendous news?

Why did his dad have to show up to Hogwarts?

Now, Anthony loved his father. Atticus Rickett didn't have a mean bone in his body, and he was all around a legend. He was a talented wizard, a hardworking man, perfect husband, and a supportive father. He was a beacon of morality whereas Anthony was a harbinger of destruction. Where Anthony preferred to throw a stick in front of a bicyclist and watch him eat pavement, Atticus Rickett was the type of wizard who vanished rubbish littering muggle areas simply because he had the ability to.

Anthony believed Heidi once called his father the "Clark Kent of Wizardkind" and accused him of having some sort of spandex-clad, alien-powered double life. He wasn't certain what that was all about, but he supposed it couldn't be completely out of the realm of possibility. He'd never seen his father and a spandex-clad alien in the same room before.

Anyway, yes, his father was perfect— which was precisely the reason he needed to leave! Anthony already had enough nonsense to deal with this year between studying for his NEWTs, Daisy problems, exploits with Sirius Black, and the looming stress of motherhood in general. He had a motorbike to take care of now. He couldn't even drive a car, let alone a metal, two-wheeled contraption of death!

Maybe he'd have Lucy test it out, she'd probably have a blast. Plus, the child was practically indestructible. Most gremlin children were.

...What was he doing again?

Ah, right. Lamenting.

Aside from the risk of his father embarrassing him in front of Daisy, or cracking some lame joke in front of all his friends, or being more beautiful than Anthony and thus dropping Anthony's ranking in the school even lower than it already was, (he was barely okay with the fact he was the Third Hottest Boy at Hogwarts, outranked by Cedric and Roger Davies in ascending order), there was also the unsettling fact that his dad was an excellent Auror.

Dad had the skills and the experience to become Head Auror. He could probably take over Amelia Bones's job someday, if he wanted to. But he stayed a standard Auror, solving cases as they were handed to him, merely for the fact that he was good at it. In his eyes, he was worth more staying in a position he had mastered; this way, he could help people as efficiently as possible.

Dad handled cases even Hit Witches couldn't solve. In the Rickett Household, Anthony couldn't manage to steal a cookie from the cookie jar without his father noticing. How in the name of Merlin was he supposed to hide his involvement with Sirius Black from his dad?

Anthony let out a pitiful moan, burying his face in his arms as he dramatically wept. He was rather miffed that no tears leaked out of his eyes, as this was a truly miserable moment, a blip on the otherwise perfect trajectory of Anthony's life.

"Um... Rickett?"

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and mournfully, Anthony looked up, still sniffling. "Yes, Darrel?" he said miserably, wondering why on earth this peon dared to interrupt his cinematic moment.

Darrel gestured to the still-brewing potion between them, a nervous expression on his face. "Um... It's not done yet... and Professor Snape is staring..."

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Anthony looked over to see that Count Chocula, as Heidi referred to him as, was indeed staring directly at Anthony with displeasure. Despite himself, Anthony had to grin. Snape was so nervous of him these days, it was wonderful. Back in first, second, and third year, Snape liked Anthony. He was at the top of his year in Potions and could brew practically anything the man threw his way— it was becoming the mentor of one Lucille Rochester that spurred Snape's hatred toward Anthony. Anthony was a bit offended that Lucy managed to accomplish in one year what Anthony hadn't in three: being loathed by Severus Snape.

"Turner," Anthony began, in a deadly serious tone. He sat up, wiping the imaginary tears from his eyes. "I don't think you understand how terrible a day I'm having. My father is at Hogwarts, Turner. Do you know what that means? Do you, Darrel Turner? Do you know what that means?"

He was all up in Darrel's face at this point, making the other boy lean away, eyes wide with fear.

There was a very tense lapse of silence between them, before Anthony forgot what he was doing and leaned back into a normal sitting position again. He began tending to their potion, unaware of the intense fear he had just struck into his classmate; poor Darrel Turner looked mortified.

"It's looking a bit off color," Anthony muttered, giving it an extra clockwise stir. When that didn't seem to do the trick, he looked around for powdered pixie wings (as his mother always used to say, the only good pixie was a dead pixie.). Upon finding one, he dropped it into the cauldron, grinning triumphantly as the potion immediately swirled into the correct shade of violet. "There we go!"

He fist pumped the air and, as always, gave the potion an extra victory stir. There was always the chance the victory stir would ruin his potion— as Professor Snape and all of Anthony's potion partners points out— but tradition demanded it. Luckily this time, the extra stir seemed to only improve the quality of the potion.

He smirked. Then he looked over to Professor Snape and called out in a sing-song: "Oh, Professsorrrr! I'm dooooneee!"

Professor Snape winced, looking deeply perturbed with the fact that somewhere along the trajectory of his life, he made a fatal decision, a damning error that landed him here, in this exact moment, dealing with Anthony Rickett.

"Turn in your samples and leave," Professor Snape said, his deep voice sounding especially somber. "Immediately, if not sooner, Mr. Rickett."

Anthony left the peasant job of 'sampling' to lower people like Darrel Turner. He began packing up his things, ignoring the varying looks of jealousy and disbelief from his peers. There was a good reason Anthony was so close with his current group of friends. You see, all of Anthony's friends, while they spent a good amount of time with him, did not have to suffer through the horrid affair of actually attending class with him. Maxine was the only one burdened with this, and it was one of the reasons she was so eager to fight Anthony at any given moment. Admittedly, he was the worst person to have in a place where people were trying to learn.

Anthony disrupted every class without fail, save for History of Magic, where he caught up on his beauty rest. Despite this, he was also the first person to complete their assigned task, no matter which class it was.

The plus side of having Anthony as a potions partner? You were guaranteed a perfect score for the day.

The downside of having Anthony as a potions partner?

Simple. You had to have Anthony as a fucking potions partner. Death would be better, probably.

"You sicken me," Maxine spat at Anthony after he'd vanished the contents of his cauldron. Although she wasn't exactly near the classroom's exit, Anthony went out of his way to peer into her cauldron. It was an unpromising shade of brown.

Anthony clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He had places to be, convicts to see, but he couldn't just leave his poor, pea-brained friend like this.

"This is terrible," Anthony told Maxine, giving her what was in his opinion much needed information. Her eye twitched, and the beetroot she was holding crumbled in her fist. He offered her a sympathetic smile. He understood her frustration. "I suggest you fix it."

"I'm going to throw you off the Astronomy Tower," Maxine said poisonously.

"Ta-ta, Maxie! See you later, alligator!" Anthony winked at her, shot her finger-guns, and then turned and headed out of the classroom. He jumped slightly as something whizzed by his head; something smashed into the wall in front of him. Professor Snape let out a long-suffering sigh, but ultimately decided throwing a potion ingredient at Anthony didn't merit any punishment.

Now that he had successfully escaped Potions class, Anthony supposed he had better get down to business and start investigating... well, the investigators. He wasn't overly pleased with Dumbledore's— and, undoubtedly, the Slytherins on the board of governors'— selection of guards. Granted, he didn't know a whole lot about them, but he knew enough about Auror Rosier and the Carrows to know they should not be entrusted to lead an investigation, especially not one concerning a supposed follower of Lord Voldemort.

Macdonald and Vance weren't as much of an issue. They were a bit more capable than Anthony would prefer (you know, rooting for the wanted one in this situation), but they were fair, and he trusted they wouldn't abuse their jurisdiction like the Carrows and Rosier might. Mary Macdonald and Emmeline Vance were family friends, apparently, just like the Meadowes and the Dearborns.

Anyway, going down Anthony's list of most likely to catch Sirius Black, he reasoned he could limit the targets of concern to his dad, Auror Rosier, and the Carrows. He could keep an eye on his dad's progress easily, and by extension, Rosier's. The Carrows would prove a bit tricker, but Anthony was confident he'd find a way.

If Anthony was going to accomplish anything at all today, he'd have to find his dad sometime before class ended. And, despite wanting to be a detective later in life, Anthony didn't need to be a genius to know exactly where his father would be located this late into the morning.

Anthony found him in the staffroom, collapsed into one of the armchairs, enjoying a gigantic mug of coffee.

The mug— or small bucket, as it really ought to be called— was overflowing with whipped cream. Atticus Rickett, well-respected Auror and efficient detective, didn't notice his son enter, as the steam from the mug fogged up his glasses to the point of complete blindness.

Anthony surveyed his father, first and foremost approving his beverage of choice. Sickeningly sweet coffee was the only way to go. Only soulless demons and Daisy Locke took their coffee black. However, he also knew that if his mother could witness what her husband was ingesting, she'd have a fit, telling him he was going to have a 'wizard heart attack', whatever that was.

And Anthony took his father's health very seriously.

He reached into his bag and pulled out his shiny new camera, courtesy of Lucy Rochester. He angled it in the most incriminating way— at an upward, tilted angle, so that his father appeared more like a blurred cryptid— and took the photograph. Upon hearing the click of the camera, Atticus jerked backward and hastily set his mug on the coffee table. His glasses were off in an instant. Dad mumbled a hasty explanation as he cleaned them and fixed them back on his face.

"Oh," Atticus stopped himself in his excuses instantly upon seeing Anthony. His face turned grim as he saw the camera in Anthony's hand. "Oh. Well, it's nice to see you too, son. I would prefer if you'd saved collecting blackmail until after I had given you a hug, but I suppose I can't fault you for enthusiasm."

Anthony was so glad his father understood his ethical dilemma. "If you give me the rest of your coffee, I'll burn the picture and give you a hug."

Atticus eyed him warily, bringing the mug of coffee closer to his chest. It was less in a possessive gesture and more of a 'you should not be anywhere near this' way. "You've already got a glint in your eye. I don't think you need caffeine on top of that, my son."

"Well, I had to try," Anthony said, sighing, and then he held his arms out and enveloped his father in a tight hug.

Anthony closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of his home. It'd only been a few months since summer ended, but he already missed the smell of the seaside wafting in through his bedroom window. He imagined the local merfolk waiting for him there, waving at him from further offshore; they were shy companions, but devoted listeners. He was certain they would have plenty to say about his involvement with Sirius Black. They were sensible folk who didn't like danger, they would probably warn him against it, just as they'd told him during his fourth year to keep a closer eye on Professor Quirrell.

Atticus seemed surprised at his son's unusual burst of emotion— in the Rickett household, Anthony typically saved his energy for his friends— but hugged him nonetheless. Anthony felt a bit of the year's tension ebb away. His task of saving Sirius Black was no less insurmountable, and the new guards had not become any less of an obstacle, but... there was magic in a parent's embrace. Anthony didn't quite understand it, but he felt the effects of it nonetheless.

He pulled away from his father. Notably, his mind had slowed its rapid pace.

"I assume you've come here to ask me about the investigation," Atticus said, getting straight to the point. To anyone else, it might have seemed like a sudden change of subject— but Anthony knew his father was simply a master of efficiency. The sooner a conversation could be resolved, the better for everyone involved, in his opinion. He wasn't very good at small talk. (But he was awesome at hugs, so it evened out.)

Still, Anthony was offended he was so easily predicted. "I might be," he said, sniffing. "Or I might have come to say hello. You know, like a good son and upstanding citizen would."

Atticus let out a loud guffaw, and promptly dissolved into laughter. Anthony stared, affronted, as his father struggled to get a hold of himself. At last, Atticus contained his laughter and wiped at his eyes. "You are a good son, but an upstanding citizen? That's just not true, you and I both know it," he said, chuckling. "I've been stationed here to protect the students from Sirius Black, yet I've been approached by four different professors who have explained to no end the trauma you've given them."

Before Anthony could defend himself, Atticus went on, "I'll show you our headquarters, if you're interested. Everyone's scheduled to patrol, so the room should be empty. We can talk then."

Sometimes his father was too sensible to respond to. So Anthony simply nodded and followed Atticus out of the room.

Anthony paid careful attention to the route his father was taking. Hogwarts was a beautiful castle, but it had too many damn levels and an obscene amount of staircases. He had hoped for a short walk, but his father was leading him toward the other side of the school, suspiciously toward the direction of one of the most unpleasant sets of staircases Anthony had ever encountered.

The Dark Tower was the worst tower at Hogwarts. It was near the Transfiguration courtyard, looming forebodingly above the otherwise lovely scenery. Hogwarts: A History recounted that the tower used to hold prisoners, back when the world was a more dangerous place. Evidently it was used to hold wayward professors and corrupt students, both of which were very common when Hogwarts first opened up. At some point, it stopped being used as a prison and instead was a detention center for extremely unruly students. Undoubtedly, Argus Filch dreamed of the day when he would be allowed to use the shackles inside the Dark Tower.

Nowadays, the Dark Tower was just kind of... there. Prefects had the annoying job of inspecting it during patrol, but they never found anything in there apart from spiders and rickety wooden staircases. The place was completely empty. Each level had cells, all the way up to the top. Hypothetically, it would be a safe spot to spend time with beautiful redheads without being seen, but nobody wanted to snog in a creepy old tower. The most action that happened in the tower these days was when the occasional idiot locked their friend inside as a 'prank'.

"You're using the tower?" Anthony complained at once after it became clear they were heading toward the courtyard. "Really?"

Atticus shot him an oddly offended look. "You don't like the tower?"

"I hate the tower," Anthony hissed, thinking of all the times he feared for his life scaling those godforsaken stairs. There wasn't even a railing! There was just enough space between the stairs and the wall for any adventurous first year, or scrawny third year (cough, Harry and Lucy, cough), to fall through. "Do we have to go all the way up?"

"Of course! It's no fun otherwise," Atticus said cheerfully. "I think you'll like some of the changes. We've turned the topmost room into a watchtower, of sorts. Mary wheedled Professor Dumbledore into providing us with a new Lunarscope; Ross is working hard at modifying it to work for our purposes."

Anthony eyed Atticus. "Purposes?" he said bracingly.

"Well, we're not here on vacation, son, as lovely as Hogwarts is." Atticus breathed a sigh through his nose. "Black's had the whole Department turned over on their heads. Azkaban's had more attempted escapes in the past few months than they've had since it was founded, and as I'm sure you've noticed, there aren't enough Dementors to account for all the prisoners. Fudge wants Black apprehended as soon as possible. He doesn't like it when things happen, that man..."

At the door to the tower, Atticus reached for the badge on his robe and held it out in front of him. Anthony was momentarily puzzled, before suddenly the door rippled, as though a pebble had been tossed at it, and a single, disturbingly realistic eye shaped into existence. Its pupil rattled around a few times before it adjusted itself to the light. Then, the eye squinted, scrutinizing the badge intently. Atticus waited patiently.

What. The. Actual. Bloody. Hell.

Anthony might be a pureblood, but he was still a bit iffy about the whole sentient magic thing most wizards seemed to be so fond of. Self-stirring cauldrons were helpful, if not a bit risky, and Pet Teacups' (Heidi called them breakable hamsters) were cute and all, but doors that could think? Eyes with no brain, no soul, that could see? Horrific. Terrible. Anthony hated it. Why did Dumbledore bring these people to his castle? Why couldn't the world see that Sirius Black was one of the raddest wizards of all time?

"I hate it," Anthony whispered, as the eye's pupil rattled around, rolled upward, before the eye promptly blinked itself back out of existence, leaving only a momentary ripple. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it," he repeated over and over. The door swung open, and Anthony made sure he didn't brush it with his skin as he passed through it. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it— did I mention I hate it?"

Atticus grinned at his son's horror, like any good father would have done. "It grows on you after a while," the misguided man said. "Amycus implemented it. He said it was a 'Seeing Eye' and assured us it was perfectly legal."

The fact that Amycus Carrow mentioned it was 'perfectly legal' meant most certainly that it was not.

"Even if it's legal, it's still a crime," Anthony whispered, still horrified by the Seeing Eye's implications. Even worse, he now had to face the unstable staircases, all the way up to the top of the tower. Anthony wasn't afraid of heights, but he didn't love them, and he certainly didn't want to be thrown from them. He had a real bone to pick with staircases these days, he did not trust them and he knew they were not his friend.

"Next time, I'm bringing a broom," Anthony grumbled to himself, then followed his father up the stairs.

Atticus was very patient with his son, stopping every time Anthony had to reassure himself that he was not going to suddenly trip and fall all the way down. The stairs were horrible, creaking precariously under him with each step, bending in the middle on some of them. To his left, there was no railing to separate him from the increasingly steep drop to the hard stone floor. Anthony was a very brave and sexy beast of a man, but he also wanted to live, so he treaded very carefully.

"Your grandmother would've made it to the top five minutes ago," Atticus informed him, like the beacon of support he was. Anthony threw him a venomous look. Dad chuckled. "I'm just throwing that out there."

"I'll throw you out there," Anthony warned, going even slower now that he had been challenged. "I have a lot to live for, father. I've got kids to feed. Could you imagine if I died to a set of staircases? My poor cub would be traumatized! She'll forever be at odds with staircases for as long as she lives!"

Truly, Lucy would be heartbroken if Anthony were to die in such a humiliating fashion. Sirius would also probably think that was lame, so Anthony had to be doubly careful. There was scarcely anything worse than making a fool of yourself in front of your cool friend, hence why Anthony usually watched himself around Maxine.

Atticus's eyes turned considerably warmer at the mention of Anthony's cub. He, along with Anthony's mum, had heard no shortage of stories about the infamous Lucy Rochester. Truthfully, when they'd first met, Anthony's intentions regarding the first year Hufflepuffs was to corrupt them into forming an army against his various enemies. They were his little murder ducklings, Lucy being the most murderous of all; over the course of Anthony's letters to his parents, they'd watched him become increasingly fond of little Lucy Rochester and her contagious laughter and joyous demeanor.

Adopt her, Anthony begged them when he came home for holiday break that year.

But grandmother had been ill, and mum was stretched thin, and as was most common in life, things just didn't pan out.

Really, Anthony should have introduced his parents to his cub long ago, but it was very hard to get a hold of Lucy during the summertime. Unlike his other muggleborn friends, Lucy lived somewhere where she had to hide her magic from everyone, so there weren't any easy means of communication, no way to make plans with the adults in charge. He invited her to join him for Christmas last year, but Lucy had gotten an odd expression on her face and politely declined. (Later, Anthony reflected that perhaps at that exact moment, Tom Riddle had decided the answer for her.)

At long last, Atticus had gotten to see Lucy Rochester in person— even if it was from a distance.

"I saw her this morning," Atticus told Anthony, smiling warmly at him. "You look something alike. It's something in the eyes."

"Mischief?" Anthony suggested. "Maybe our homicidal urges? I know it's not the color that's the same, 'cause no offense to Lucy, but her eyes are dirt brown." His cub was awesome and all, but she was still a gremlin and therefore had to be insulted from time-to-time.

Atticus fixed Anthony with an unimpressed look. "Don't be rude, Anthony."

"That's an oxymoron," Anthony said in-a-matter-of-factly way. "Heidi told me so." Heidi was an endless fount of knowledge about the mysterious muggle world. Unfortunately, now Anthony had to reconsider the validity of said endless knowledge.

"Careful there, son, you're speeding up a bit, wouldn't want you to fall," was Atticus's cut-throat response to that little tangent. Anthony's eyes widened, and he slowed his pace at once, again aware of his impending doom.

"You're a monster," Anthony hissed.

"I work with Amycus and Alecto Carrow now. Lend me some patience," Atticus said dryly.

Decent point.

"Tell me again why you work with those two?" Anthony said disdainfully. Carrow was an old name, therefore influential, but Alecto and Amycus weren't particularly remarkable in their positions at the ministry. Ross Meadowes, at least, was a trained healer and therefore had some level of merit in being appointed as guard, but the Carrows were worthless. They were like lazier, younger versions of Filch. Anthony had already heard them cuss at a group of first years, and the day hadn't even ended yet.

Atticus's smile faded, replaced by a somewhat troubled expression. "They volunteered," he said. "We all did."

Anthony stared.

Although his father had no reason to doubt Sirius Black's guilt— though he was simply doing his duty and fulfilling a promise he made to the wizarding community, Anthony couldn't help but feel a stab of betrayal, a painful twinge at knowing his father was a person who would volunteer to hunt down his fellow man.

"You volunteered?" he repeated. "Why?"

He tried hard to keep his true feelings from leaking into his words, but he was unsure if he succeeded.

"It was a last minute decision," Atticus said. "The Governors received recommendations for individuals, a broad range of individuals, who might be willing to tackle something as tedious as finding Sirius Black. Hundreds of names came forward. People who knew the Potters and the Pettigrews. People who knew Black personally, or who felt inclined to raise their pitchforks and join the hunt. In the end, the Minister approved six names. Mary, Emmeline, Ross Meadowes, the Carrows, and of course, Deputy Auror Rosier. Once I saw these names, I was troubled."

They reached the top of the tower. The Lunarscope was in the center of the room, magnificent in its size and gold-plated and silver framing, but Anthony's attention was raptly focused on his father, as Atticus turned to look at him sharply.

"What I am about to tell you is for your ears only, okay? This is private business, I don't want any talk about the guards to travel through the grapevine."

Coming from an Auror, the phrase 'for your ears only' was hardly ever taken seriously, since nearly every Auror went home to recount the entire day's event to their wife; it was the reason why everyone and their mother knew about a scandal before it hit the Daily Prophet. Anthony, however, had prided himself on his diligence— he had never repeated information his father had told him in confidence.

Now he was going to throw all of that out the window in favor of his cool new criminal friend, Sirius Black, who he was undoubtedly going to repeat all this confidential information to.

"Not even Cedric?" Anthony hedged, trying to gauge just how much he was going to betray his father.

"Not even to your reflection, Anthony," Atticus said sternly. "Understood?"

"Understood," Anthony echoed. He hoped this lie wasn't enough to condemn him to ghosthood, should he ever die prematurely. Anthony was very paranoid about leaving behind 'unfinished business', lest he become a ghost like Moaning Myrtle and earn an equally embarrassing name.

"Alright," Atticus nodded. He passed the Lunarscope, settling down instead in one of the many armchairs. A cloud of dust exploded from the surface of the chair after his father settled in it. Anthony was loathe to follow suit— he liked to look his best, okay?— but lowered himself into the adjacent chair anyway. "The reason, Anthony, I was so bothered by this list was because... well, the people who'd been picked, they seemed a bit too... invested, I should say, in Sirius Black's case. I didn't feel like they could exhibit fair restraint. The Kiss order has been postponed; right now, the Minister just wants Black caught."

"What d'you mean by invested?" Anthony picked up on dad's strange phrasing at once.

"I mean that if any one of these individuals stumbled across Sirius Black, I do not believe Black would return to Azkaban alive."

Anthony's blood seemed to freeze in his veins; at once, he'd imagined Sirius's body somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, covered by fallen leaves and frost, with a witch or wizard standing above him. It hadn't occurred to Anthony that perhaps being caught was the least of Sirius's worries.

"They all hate him, and with fair reason, I think," Atticus continued gently. "I won't get into the details, but Sirius Black has taken from everyone on this guard. Mary and Emmeline have lost friends. Rosier, Ross, and yes, even the Carrows have lost family. They can't wait to get a hold of him. I don't know whether my coming here will change anything, but at the very least, I can say that I wholeheartedly tried to bring Sirius Black to a fair and legal reckoning."

"They'd kill him," Anthony repeated, feeling sick. Oh, Merlin, he'd never forgive himself if Sirius died at the end of all this. Lucy would be... well, devastated was a light word for it.

"They would," Atticus said quietly.

The weight of this realization hung heavily between them. Anthony was horrified, now worried that at any given moment, Sirius's location could be compromised and he'd be descended upon by a vengeful wizard. He had to warn Sirius, and quickly.

Anthony wracked his brain for some reasonable excuse as to why he had to leave, one that his father maybe wouldn't see through. But, miraculously, he didn't have to think of anything at all. At the base of the tower, he could hear quiet voices grow louder as they echoed up toward him.

"...Crime... could've killed him..."

"You're in big trouble..."

"...wring your ears..."

The bits and pieces Anthony could hear were largely nonsensical, but the vicious undertones, the slight nasally pitch, he could recognize it anywhere. Carrows. Clearly, they had stumbled across some troublemaker and decided to embrace their inner Filch.

"Good Merlin..." Atticus muttered, rubbing at his forehead. "I told Dumbledore he gave us too much jurisdiction... we can take points, give detentions, everything short of expulsion, and even that is currently contedable. Fudge is desperate for our success."

"Well, looks like Fudge is going to get a few kids killed in the process," Anthony observed, as the angry muttering grew louder and louder.

"Suppose we'd better save the populace," Atticus said with a slight roll of his eyes. He started down the staircase, and despite Anthony's reservations, he tried to keep up with his father's fast pace. Lives were at stake here, in a multitude of ways.

Halfway down, Anthony was able to better hear what all the commotion was about.

"We caught you at the scene of the crime, girl! I demand you give us your name at once!" Amycus's voice snapped, sounding ugly and hoarse with frustration. "Those boys can press charges, you know— a stunt like that could have killed them!"

...Why did Anthony feel like he knew who they were speaking to?

"I'm just saying, your evidence is highly circumstantial."

A sweet, but mocking tone that somehow sounded completely genuine despite being borne of utter nonsense? Yup. That was Lucy.

"Circumstantial," Alecto repeated, incredulous. Anthony clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. He could sympathize with Alecto, despite everything. He also knew what it was like when Lucy made you question your existence.

"You might have seen me with Crabbe and Goyle, but that's only because I was leaving class with them," Lucy continued, sounding wholly confident for someone who, as far as she knew, was alone in a prison tower with two uppity dickhead wizards. "They attacked me— Draco Malfoy set them after me. Not that I blame him, you know, I was a bit much during History of Magic, things only worsened in Arithmancy..."

"So you admit you provoked them," Alecto snarled.

"Well, no, I never admit to anything. Just a personal rule of mine," Lucy said. Atticus stopped in his tracks at this, frantically attempting to contain his composure, while Anthony outright had to sit down on the staircase to avoid tipping over. He considered putting a silencing charm on himself, just to make sure he didn't absolutely lose it. The absolute audacity of this child. "But, Crabbe and Goyle definitely tried to make a pancake out of me, and nothing against breakfast foods, but I'm more of a waffles kind of gal. Y'know?"

There was a stunned silence on the Carrows' end.

Lucy continued anyway, cheerful as always. "I have no idea why they started convulsing like that. The world is full of strange happenings, you can never be certain of what lurks around the corner. For example, you might find out, one day, that you can speak the great snake language. Or you might find out Voldemort taught you chess. Or, in Crabbe and Goyle's case, you might find out that sometimes your tie just so happens to turn to stone around your neck. Do we want these things to happen? Of course not! I hate chess! But the point is, they do happen. So..."

Here, Anthony imagined Lucy had offered the Carrows a hesitant, but genuinely smile. He could practically see the doe-eyed look of innocence.

"Can I go?" Lucy concluded.

There was another prolonged silence, and then Amycus snapped, "NO!"

"Who is your Head of House?" Alecto demanded.

"Snape," Lucy said at once.

Anthony wanted to both laugh and cry, knowing that Lucy had said this with a straight face while wearing his Hufflepuff cardigan and matching yellow and black regalia.

"Name," Alecto hissed, "Give us your name, now."

"Or detention," Amycus added.

"Forever!"

They reminded Anthony of a villainous version of the Weasley twins. He toyed with the idea of inciting a war between the two, and ultimately decided the idea had some merit. He added that to the list of many things he had to do.

At this point, Atticus figured he'd better step in before the Carrows became inclined to consult the Headmaster. He was certain that Dumbledore, no matter how easygoing he was, would not be impressed if Lucy found trouble with the guards on their first day in the castle. He smoothed his composure, braced himself for impending amusement, and then continued down the staircase, calling out: "Alecto? Amycus? Is that you?"

There was a muffled curse. "Yes, Rickett. We're in the middle of something," Alecto said tersely, shooting Atticus a reproachful look as he descended the stairs. Her mood only worsened when she saw Anthony following along behind. "Private business," she added.

"Not to worry, I'll be on my way soon," Atticus said cheerfully.

Lucy was sitting on a metal chair, one that was straight out of a gritty interrogation room. She seemed only a bit ruffled, which was evidence enough to Anthony that she had indeed gotten into some sort of skirmish with Crabbe and Goyle, and she was seemingly overjoyed about it. He hadn't seen her in such high spirits in forever. Violence was clearly the best cure.

Alecto and Amycus stilled, obviously waiting for Atticus to 'continue on his way' as he claimed he was going to. But Atticus stayed there, smiling at the pair of guards. Eventually, Amycus grew weary of the silence and said curtly, "Did you need something further?"

"I just wanted to tell you that the Lunarscope is behaving strangely. Its scope blinked at me the other day. Are you certain your Seeing Eye is restricted strictly to the door?"

"That's what that freaky eye thing was?" Lucy cut in, a perturbed look on her face. "That was horrid! I thought I was hallucinating or something, so I didn't say anything, but yeesh. Talk about creepy. Also, hello mother. How are you today?"

Anthony pointed at her, frowning. "You're wearing my cardigan."

Lucy frowned back at him. "You're wearing my updog."

"What's updog?"

Lucy's face split into the most evil grin. She opened her mouth, ready to bring about Anthony's abrupt demise, when Atticus swooped in to save his son from this terrible fate. "I am concerned about the Lunarscope, though. Would you mind checking it? I would hate to trouble Dumbledore with it so early."

Amycus eyed him furiously. Clearly, he had the suspicion that Atticus was covering for Lucy in some way— whether it was because it was his son's friend or because Lucy was a Hufflepuff. "Fine," Amycus said coldly. He jabbed a finger at Lucy. "But first, give us your name."

Lucy sucked in a deep breath, then said very quickly, "LucilleEveGinaEsmeeNaomiDianaEleineRochester!"

Alecto blinked. "What?"

But Lucy was already up and out of her chair, racing toward the exit. Before anyone could do anything, she was out the door, running down the corridor. The Carrows couldn't have been less pleased as they made their way upstairs to check on a perfectly working Lunarscope.

When Atticus and Anthony were safely out of earshot of the tower, Anthony turned to his dad. "That was cold, father," he informed him. "Sending them up all those stairs? You're a monster."

"I've got to have my fun somehow," Atticus said, giving a shrug. Anthony shuddered. Mum had the impression that her husband was a quiet, kind man who could never hurt a fly— it really was the quiet ones. "Lucy disappeared rather quickly. I was hoping to catch a word with her."

Anthony chuckled. Lucy had certainly gone off in a hurry. Obviously, she was having a bloody good day— annoying Slytherins and fighting Malfoy's goons, annoying the Carrows, and it wasn't even dinner time yet! His cub was subdued these days, preferring companionship over mischief. She hadn't been so lively in a while. He wouldn't fool himself into thinking she was just okay now, but if a burst of energy like this had happened once, it meant it could happen again, more times, in the future. Minutes before, Anthony had felt like throwing up; now he felt like he could sing.

"She's just having fun. You'll get a chance soon," Anthony assured his father.

"I'd better. It's taking an awfully long time for me to meet my granddaughter," Atticus said unhappily.

Anthony snickered, the words adopt her repeating once again in his head, but he dismissed the thought. Lucy was dead set on returning to Wool's this summer. She had a bone to pick with the new muggle headmaster there and probably wouldn't appreciate adoption getting in the way of that. She was a sensible witch, Lucy was.

"Well... I think I'll swing by the staffroom before the Carrows figure out I've had them on," Atticus said, checking his watch. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Wait, shouldn't you be in class?"

"Bit late for that."

"Go!" Atticus was quick to usher Anthony toward the nearest corridor. "Go! Learn! Good merlin, your mother will kill me if she finds out I let you skip! Gone with you! Begone!" Atticus kept gesturing for Anthony to leave.

Chuckling, Anthony turned and headed down the indicated corridor. He definitely had to meet with Sirius later, preferably in the dark of night. He'd probably exclude Lucy this time, he wouldn't want to ruin her day with troubling news. Besides— with the new Lunarscope, he figured he should probably be more careful with his movement, at least until he discerned the Lunarscope's capabilities. If it was anything like Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye— a legend within the Auror circle— they were in a bit of trouble.

For now, he supposed a letter would do. Hopefully, Crookshanks would be waiting at the usual window. He thought Sirius was nuts when the man first said Crookshanks was helping him, but when the cat repeatedly brought him letters from the man, he had to concede that Crookshanks was as good a team member as the rest of them.

Anthony scrawled out a note as he walked. The message was simple, to the point.

Things have changed. Stay put. Hide anything you-related.

-Gumshoe

He nodded to himself.

This would have to do.

---

By the time dinnertime rolled around, Malfoy swore to never speak to Lucy again, Blaise Zabini was twenty galleons richer, and multiple professors were considering early retirement.

All in all, it had been a successful day.

Lucy arrived at the Gryffindor table in high spirits; she could feel the entirety of the Slytherin table glaring at the back of the head, burning holes straight through her. Malfoy had been desperate for solace when he sicced Crabbe and Goyle on her. She hadn't really been in the mood to have a muggle brawl with the two boys, so she'd gotten in touch with her roots and gave them a good old 'duro' to their tie. Gravity, her favorite weapon, pinned them to the ground as per usual, and it was then that the Carrows stumbled across the commotion.

She was a bit disappointed with the Carrows' performance overall. She'd been expecting them to be more intimidating than they were, especially with the creepy prison tower. She hadn't even been aware there was a prison tower until she found herself in the interrogation chair. Overall, a very fun experience.

Now, however, the sun was due to set, and it was time to calm down for the evening. She claimed her usual spot next to Harry and Ron, sinking into the space between them. Ron was busy piling his dinner on his plate, Hermione was nowhere to be found, and Harry was staring off into the distance. His mind was light years away. Instead of interrupting him or asking what he was thinking, Lucy opted to let Harry ponder whatever it was that was on his mind. She reached past him to help herself to some pasta.

"What's with our boy?" Lucy asked Ron, jabbing a thumb in Harry's direction. Ron followed her gaze, shovelling a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. He tried to speak, but nothing understandable or helpful came out, and Lucy was left staring at him blankly. She put her hand on his shoulder. "In English, my friend. In English."

"Sorry," Ron said, not sorry in the least. "Harry had lunch with Professor Lupin— and two of the new guards. The two witches up there. They all went to Lupin's classroom and talked about his parents and stuff." Lucy was faced with an agonizing twenty seconds as Ron took his time with another spoonful of mashed potatoes. He resumed, but at what cost. "He's been funny ever since."

"Good funny?"

"I think?" Ron shrugged.

"They knew my mum," Harry said abruptly. Lucy jumped, turning to see that Harry was looking directly at her, a somewhat amazed look on his face. "We talked the whole lunch hour. Mary— Macdonald— went to school with my mum. Emmel— Vance said she worked with my parents."

He leaned closer to Ron and Lucy and added, "They gave me some more pictures. I'll show you later." He looked at Lucy directly. "Hufflepuff?" he said questioningly, and Lucy knew at once what he was asking.

Harry and Ron found themselves sometimes wishing they were Hufflepuffs, if only for their common room. It was warm, it was spacious, it had a tree, and most importantly, it wasn't seven floors up. The fact that it was nearest to the kitchens was a wonderful bonus.

Since Anthony had specifically told Lucy to stay in the castle tonight, she was free to spend the night with her friends. She shot Harry the thumbs-up, grinning.

Even though they were still at dinnertime, Lucy knew they'd be making a stop at the kitchens on the way to her common room. It was simply the way of the world.

---

That night, the third-year boys' dormitory was void of all activity. Seamus Finnegan was in the Charms classroom for tutoring; Dean Thomas was in the common room, engaging Neville Longbottom in a friendly game of gobstones; Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were, for the first time in a long while, absent from the dormitory. Typically, they remained here with Hermione Granger and Lucille Rochester. And if they weren't here, it meant they were somewhere else with Hermione Granger and Lucille Rochester.

Which meant that for a sweet, rare moment, Peter Pettigrew was alone.

He sniffed around, checking once, twice, three times for approaching noises, hidden figures. He forgot, at this point, if his senses were more rat than human or more human than rat, and so he thought it best to err on the side of caution. It was always a risk, transforming back. But Peter was frightened, sometimes, that he might forget how to transform back together.

So he crawled out from underneath Ron Weasley's pillow. Made his way carefully to the floor of the dormitory. Then, focusing with all his might, he imagined himself turning back into a human. He struggled to picture himself. He had not looked in the mirror in years, he had no idea what to expect. He was relieved, when he felt his limbs grow, his perspective shift, and he felt the pads of his fingers brush against the dormitory floor. It was so different.

He didn't have much time.

Peter was not skilled with much in school. His wand work had always been lackluster. This, he accepted about himself. His skills lie elsewhere. Not in Herbology or Potions, nor in Arithmancy or Ancient Runes, even— but he had always had an affinity for divination. His instincts had never led him wrong before; his instincts were why he was still alive.

And Peter's instincts were telling him that he was in trouble.

Hermione Granger's horrid cat, Crookshanks, was too watchful, too bent on killing him. Sometimes, he felt odd tugs at the back of his mind, as if someone had stuck their fingers inside his skill and swirled it around. As a rat, Peter's senses were in an odd place between confusing and sharp, refined yet muddled at the same time. But he always knew when something wasn't right. He was being watched. He was being plotted against. His instincts pointed him toward one person, the obvious person.

James's son had an odd group of friends. Lucille Rochester was the oddest of them all. Peter used to prefer her over Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger; she knew how to handle animals, and she never poked or prodded at him like so many of the Weasley children had done before. He had never felt any particular way about her; Peter preferred to distance himself from thinking too hard about James's son, about Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger. He chose not to draw comparisons between himself, his fellow Marauders, and the four children. He tried really hard not to.

But Rochester was resembling Peter's old friend Sirius more and more with each passing day. The thought had crossed his mind weeks ago, but now it was stuck in his head, he was unable to see past it. There were random coincidences. Phrases she'd say that he hadn't heard in years, that he couldn't recall hearing her, or any of James's son's friends, saying before.

Ordinarily, Peter would have acted on his instincts. He would have scurried away from Rochester, waiting for everything to blow over. Sirius couldn't hide from the ministry forever. He had never been very subtle, even back at Hogwarts. And Peter had a good position here. The Weasleys, despite their financial status, had no shortage of food; they had a warm, cozy home, with direct access to the wizarding world and all its news. Here, he was guaranteed to know if the Dark Lord returned, or if Sirius was apprehended. He wasn't guaranteed that safety elsewhere. It was surprisingly hard to find a wizarding family who really cared about a pet rat.

And, he reasoned, just because his instincts told him Rochester was a threat did not mean it was a threat against him specifically. Maybe she was, somehow, linked to Sirius. That didn't mean she knew about him. She didn't act like she knew about him, and Peter was an excellent judge of character. She showed him the same attention as she did any other animal, and she even defended him against Granger's hellish cat.

Speaking of the cat, Peter turned to ensure the door to the dormitory was still closed. He'd already triple-checked, but his mind raced so fast these days that it was hard to keep track of everything. He breathed out a sigh of relief upon seeing it was still fastened shut, with a door under the handle, just to be sure. Luckily at Hogwarts, items moving by themselves wasn't exactly an anomaly.

Peter had no real reason to leave his rat form. He had just figured that since the dormitory was empty for the first time in ages, he might as well stretch his legs. This year was proving to be very stressful on him. Loathed as he was to admit it, he was worried he might actually die, if Ron Weasley hadn't provided him with the rat tonic. In retrospect, it might have been a ludicrous fear, but nobody had ever lived for as many years in an animagus form as Peter Pettigrew had. He had no idea what to expect. He was, for once, unique in his position.

What a fat lot of good that was doing him.

Peter scoffed under his breath, feeling an irrational surge of anger at his situation, at his placement in life, at the whole damned world. A rat. He just had to be a rat! Sometimes, he felt like his animagus form was the root of all his problems.

"Damn you, Sirius Black," Peter muttered under his breath. He likely would never dare to utter the words to Sirius, but it felt nice to say them, all the same. Sirius was easy to hate, with his foul temperament and brash attitude. Peter admired him greatly at Hogwarts, but he never liked him. "Damn you," he repeated again, angrier.

He caught his own reflection, just then. In the window. The sight of it sent him reeling.

He really did look more rat than human. Skin sallow and sunken, his round face drooping from stress, exhaustion, years of neglect— the clothes he had transformed in hung loosely around his frame, and he didn't even want to think of their condition. He was a mess. He was a disgrace. He was a waste of a man. But he was still alive. He was still alive, after everything, and he clung onto that, for that was all he had left.

Peter stumbled toward the window. His hand touched the glass. He was tempted to mourn some more over his lot in life, but a movement far below him caught his attention— it was something yellow.

He squinted. He was very far away, but luckily for Peter, Seamus Finnegan was a Quidditch fanatic. He easily found the pair of binoculars the boy left underneath his bed. He returned to the window and held the binoculars to his face.

There, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he zeroed in on what he... assumed to be Anthony Rickett. A Hufflepuff boy who sometimes was around James's son. Peter sighed in relief. For a moment, he thought that perhaps it had been Rochester. He didn't think he could handle it if Rochester started behaving suspiciously all of a sudden. He was on edge enough as it was without worrying whether or not Ron Weasley's friend might kill him.

Lazily, Peter continued watching. He had little else to do. Rickett was a known troublemaker, it was hardly a surprise to see him heading toward the forest. It was a little odd, considering it was evening time, but teenagers were adventurous beings. Peter, of all people, would know.

"What's he carrying?" Peter mused to himself. He half hoped it was a prank item, of some sort. As miserable as the Weasleys made him sometimes, Fred and George Weasley had always been reliable sources of entertainment.

Rickett reached the edge of the forest, only to suddenly be knocked back as something slammed into him. It was something big and black, at first Peter thought it was a bear. But upon closer inspection, Peter noticed it was just Rochester's — or Harry's, Peter wasn't entirely certain— pet dog. The item in Rickett's arms went flying out, but instead of falling straight down, it was caught in the wind. It was some kind of fabric.

Peter focused the binoculars in even further, his curiosity getting the better of him. He shouldn't stay out of his animagus form for too long. Longbottom was known for going to bed earlier than expected.

Peter saw the fabric for what it was, and he promptly dropped the binoculars; his hands froze up, and his heart seemed to screech to a halt. He'd know that piece of fabric from anywhere. Peter knew, because it was one of the many reasons he admired but disliked Sirius Black. Sirius's hand-made leather jacket had been a staple of his personality for the entirety of his fourth year. Afterward, he caved in and bought quality clothing, but for that year, it had been all Sirius was known for.

The knowledge terrified him, but Peter was glad he saw, he was glad he was aware now what the real danger was. It wasn't any wonder Peter had been so wary of Rochester. She was close to the enemy. Dangerously close.

Peter hastened to transform back into a rat; ignoring the binoculars, and the displaced chair, he dove underneath the Gryffindor blankets again, hiding himself from the world and Anthony Rickett and Sirius Black. Underneath, he shook. With fear, shock, and as always, bitter resentment. He hoped, with all his might, that his anger could just take over, that he could work up his nerve to fix his situation instead of hiding from it.

For now, at least, Peter would stay afraid.

Even as the embers of his anger toward Sirius Black started to crackle once again.