As I left the dungeons, I realized that I had the morning to myself. I'd been wanting to practice some wand-less magic, but hadn't gotten a chance to slip away from everyone yet.

Wand-less magic has always been a hobby of mine, but now that I found myself permanently without a wand, it seemed imperative. The problem is that most witches and wizards don't like to mess with it. It's considered to be primitive, and generally more trouble than it's worth. It takes an enormous amount of power to manage even the smallest of spells.

As such, few modern magic books mentioned it. To find any sort of instruction I'd had to go back to ancient druidic texts. I'd found a few in the Black library, and I'd been itching to see if I could discover more in the Lestrange family collection. I stalked quietly down the hallway, feeling rather furtive even though I hadn't been explicitly told to stay out of the Library.

I'd marked its location early on in my stay, having observed Rodolphus Lestrange entering after dinner one night. I glanced up and down the hallway before quietly opening the mahogany doors and slipping inside. I found myself feeling more excited than I had in weeks.

Happily, nobody else was there, and I was alone in the beautiful room. I simply couldn't wrap my head around how anyone could become evil with access to such a beautiful library. It had a domed ceiling of stained glass that seemed to be a stylized version of a forest canopy. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were embellished with Gaudi-esque swirls of warm-colored wood, and the far corners were occupied with spiral staircases that seemed to lead to reading nooks dappled with the same green-and-yellow light you might find in a real forest. I was in heaven.

There was a heavy, leather-bound tome standing on a plinth just inside the door. I opened it and was not disappointed to find that it was the catalogue. I skimmed the index and quickly located the section where any Druidic texts were likely to be found.

I skipped happily down the soaring aisles, reminded for a moment of the many happy hours I'd spent wandering the stacks of books in the Hogwarts other people they'd seemed dull and dusty, but to me they were full of excitement. I had wanted to learn all I could about this new world I found myself in.

I could hardly believe myself to be the same girl I'd been there, full of wonder and possibility, eagerly believing that I could achieve anything in this word. I remembered how I'd dreamed of hundreds of different futures, different ways to acquire knowledge and change the world. I snorted bitterly. Little had I known then that the most powerful denizens of our world regarded me as little more than mud beneath their shoes. I shook my head to clear away such thoughts.

All things worth having come at a price, I reminded myself. I'd determined years ago that I was willing to fight for my place in this world. Magic was in my blood, in my very soul. I refused to do what so many other muggle-borns had done: renounce magic and fade quietly back into the muggle world, leaving wizards to sort out their own problems.

I breathed in deeply as I reached the section I'd been searching for. The books here were older, their spines cracked and dusty. Even with the dark thoughts swirling through my head, I grinned automatically at the scent that I'd come to associate with knowledge and possibility. I stood with my back to one shelf, craning my neck to read the titles higher up on the other shelf. I could just make out the tile of a text I'd been dying to read for years, Y celfyddyd o wneud cwch, which roughly translates to "The Art of Making Shit Move". I was hoping that this text could teaching me how to levitate objects through wand-less magic.

The problem was that the book was well out of my reach. At only 5'2 I'd developed the habit of simply levitating books off of the top shelves; yet again, I missed my wand as if it were a limb on my body. I was still learning how to function as an amputee of sorts.

Looking around once more to make sure that nobody was watching, I put a foot on the lowest shelf on each side of the aisle. Slowly, I started to awkwardly climb up, using my arms to brace myself on the opposing shelves as I straddled the aisle. It occurred to me that if anyone walked under me just now, they would get an excellent view of Pansy's finest green panties. Finally, I reached the level of the book, easily ten feet off of the ground, and reached out a hand to grab it. Just as my fingers closed on my coveted tome, I heard the library door open.

I froze, more out of embarrassment than any real sense of wrongdoing. Before I could decide what to do, a male voice drawled, "hominum revelio". The spell swept under me without touching me, and I knew that I hadn't been revealed when I heard a second voice scoff,

"Really, Lucius. You are so paranoid. Who would hang around in this dust-trap anyway?"

"You can never be too careful, Yaxley," Malfoy replied.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. I tought of my dad's advice to me when were were watching Predator together one vacation: "Let that be a lesson to you, Princess," he said with a grin, as the Predator leapt on Arnold Schwartzeneger from a tree, "People never look up." At the time I'd rolled my eyes at my ex-army dad's advice, thinking that I'd never in a million years have cause to need it.

My legs were already starting to cramp from the awkward position, but I was curious as to what Malfoy was so eager to keep private.

"Ah yes, you'll find the spell for tracking charms over there by the window, call number 7452," declared Malfoy, and there was a whump indicating that the heavy catalogue had been closed.

"Accio," there was a thwack that sounded like Yaxley had caught a heavy book, and then he continued, "Thanks, Lucius. Never did figure out how to find things with the library numbers, seems like a waste of time."

"Yes, yes," responded Malfoy impatiently, "Anyway, have you given any more thought to my offer? I assure you, it would be kept in the strictest confidence,"

"I'll tell you now the same thing I told you last time. I'm not gettin' involved if you won't tell me your reason for it. For all I know, this could be one of your slimy plots to end me up in hot water with the Dark Lord,"

"I assure you it is not," snapped Malfoy, "but my reasons are my own."

"Well bugger off and get someone else to do it then," replied Yaxley moodily.

"I assure you the compensation would be-" Malfoy began, but Yaxley cut him off.

"Fuck the compensation! I'm not offing Lestrange without a damn good reason, one that I know won't compromise the cause in any way."

"Have if your own way," bit out Malfoy. There was silence for a moment and then he continued, silky smooth like Snape when he was at his most dangerous, "But if you breathe a word of this to anyone, you won't live long enough to regret it. I will wipe your house from this Earth."

I heard the door open and two sets of footsteps leave. I slowly let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and bend my knees slightly, trying to save my legs from cramping. I made an awkward, stiff legged descent that ended in me falling the last few feet and landing awkwardly on my hip. I didn't get up immediately, lying flat on the thick plush carpeting and clutching my prize to my chest.

Very interesting, that conversation. Not only was Yaxley doing something with tracking spells, but Malfoy apparently had a secret vendetta against Lestrange. I wondered if there was a way to exploit that. I'd have to report it to Snape the next time we saw each other.

After a few moments contemplation, I pushed myself to my feet and snagged a book on goblin wars so I'd have a plausible cover if anyone came in. I wanted to keep my abilities with wandless magic secret. Another of my dad's life tips was, "always have a plan B."