Disclaimer: Still not mine…
Updated: Tuesday 7th February
A/N: massive apologies for the delay. I have updated my author's profile in an attempt to offer a bit of a explanation to where I am at. Thank you all for your infinite patience and understanding.
Chapter 12: Surprising Revelations
"Ah, Estella, what a pleasant surprise!" Albus Dumbledore looked up from his position behind his desk and acknowledged Estella's entrance warmly.
The paranoid Ravenclaw was immediately on alert – the old man's smile of assurance only serving to disarm her further. As two of Fawkes' 'chosen ones', both Estella and Harry had been given unprecedented access to the Headmaster's office and quarters. Though it would not have been hard for either teen to deduct the Gargoyle's password for themselves; it was readily acknowledged that either Order member, for whatever reason, may require urgent access to the tower. While Harry had been quietly smug of the privilege in light of the fact not even Severus Snape was afforded such unprecedented right of way, Estella was still not sure how to take it. On some level, she suspected that all of the apparent special privileges were just one of the Headmaster's roundabout ways of lulling them into a false sense of security. Though the reaction of the Order members to Fawkes' behaviour appeared genuine enough, Estella simply could not put it past the Headmaster to have conspired with the great bird to further manipulate them all. Even if he had not, it would be just the Headmaster's style to convince everyone that he viewed the teenagers as important, only to blind them with ceremonious titles and rights; not really giving them any real involvement or power. For all they knew, Fawkes was just drawn to the 'innocence' of children and will have done the same of any young teenager. It certainly would explain why Dumbledore was so normally adamant about the children of Order members being uninvolved.
"I was wondering which of you two would seek to test out the nature of our little arrangement first," said Dumbledore pleasantly, picking up a crystal bowl of yellow sweets and holding it out to his unexpected guest. "Lemon drop?"
"No, thank you," said Estella, knowing better than to accept any food directly from the old man. It was ridiculous, she knew, distrusting the Headmaster so much; but one could never be too careful. She suspected that she'd been on 'survival-mode' ever since the events of earlier that summer.
"So, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked Dumbledore, settling back down in his chair. Estella noted absently that he'd yet to offer her a cup of tea; though she supposed that he could probably tell she was being cautious around him. "I must confess I wasn't expecting a visit so soon! Has something happened that you wish to report?"
"Nothing untoward occurred today," Estella assured him slowly. "But I did wish to discuss something with you before the school term was underway."
At this, Estella cast a meaningful look at Fawkes, who noted her presence happily and flew over to rest on her shoulder.
"Ah, yes," sighed Dumbledore, his eyes regarding Fawkes with a hint of sadness. "Have you figured it out, then?"
"Figured what out?" Estella asked before she could stop herself. She stared into the fire distractedly for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I may not know the specifics, Headmaster, but I could tell there was more to it than what you disclosed at the meeting."
"Oh, please, call me Albus when we are alone," said Dumbledore kindly, catching Estella by surprise. "Fawkes has as good as marked us as equals."
"What? Ridiculous! There's nothing noteworthy about me!" said Estella. It wasn't that she was modest or oblivious to her abilities; she just knew that she wasn't much different from anyone else. And for the oldest wizard she knew to ask her to call him by his first name? Any moment, Estella expected to hear the eerie refrain of the Twilight Zone.
"One does not have to be magically or superior in age to be marked by a Phoenix, Estella," said Dumbledore quietly. "You need only the right intent."
Estella pondered this for a moment, and when it became clear that the older wizard was not going to explain further, she began to scan her mind for things she may have read over the summer. "You knew that there was a chance of Fawkes doing that and yet you didn't warn us?" asked Estella, finally.
"One does not expect to see it twice in their lifetime," said Dumbledore cryptically. Looking at the man's eyes, Estella suddenly knew that her suspicion that the man was keeping something from her was justified. Rather than accuse the man of manipulation, however, another thought struck her. What if he was simply indulging her Ravenclaw disposition for finding things out in books? So far, what the man had told her seemed almost unfathomable; she had a feeling that if he were to tell her the full extent of Fawkes' behaviour, she'd want to back up the information with a written resource anyway. A trip to the library, therefore, was inevitable either way she looked at it… and, by holding back, Dumbledore was simply giving her something to find.
Nodding in unspoken understanding, Estella looked at the Headmaster knowingly, a look of 'I-know-what-game-you're-playing' lit on her features. Not one to waste a good opportunity, however, she took the opportunity to address the specifics of her mission.
"About my mission objectives…" she said, her voice trailing off
"Yes, come to think of it, I am glad that you came and sought me out," said Dumbledore disarmingly. "Forgive me for lacking the foresight and not summoning you to my office directly. I imagine your schedule would have appeared foreign, otherwise."
"What provisions have been made on my schedule?" asked Estella. Students would not receive their timetables until morning.
"Following an academic review of your results," said Dumbledore, pulling a file out of his drawer that Estella immediately recognised as her own. "How would you like to study Ancient Runes independently?"
"Independently?" Estella furrowed her brow. "I guess the syllabus is largely text-based… but I don't understand, why?"
"As you may or may not be consciously aware of the fact, the process of broom design borrows quite extensively from the discipline of Runes, Charms, and… Transfiguration."
Estella groaned. The Headmaster continued. "Now, I think it is quite clear that you cannot afford to forfeit your position in Minerva's class, no?" Estella nodded slowly. Dumbledore looked almost relieved at the lack of contention. "Now, as it so happens, at the times when your Ancient Runes classes are scheduled, your Head of House is not required to be teaching. As such, both he and Benson have volunteered to assist you in their respective fields."
"And what of Transfiguration?" asked Estella, chewing on her bottom lip.
"With any luck Benson will be able to handle that aspect for you," said Albus carefully. "Since the magic you will be drawing from to implement this project derives from him, there will not be any adverse effects."
"Like when the charms on those pre-manufactured brooms wore off?" asked Estella, referring to the brooms she had charmed over Christmas and her most recent attempts on Harry's Firebolt.
"Precisely," the elder wizard said. "And you needn't worry about the volume of your schoolwork. I daresay your efforts will acquire you partial credit in Ancient Runes. You will not have to do all the same coursework as your classmates in that regard."
"Kind of like how the Weasley Twins are working on their inventions in every class?"
"Yes, quite like that," said Dumbledore. "Exactly like that, indeed."
Luckily, in both the Twins' and, more importantly, Estella's, cases, an old, little-known by-law of the School's Constitution permitted students to begin 'vocational training' whilst still in school . Following one year of elective study, students, in the past, were routinely invited to enroll in a vocational program. The aims of these placements were to broaden a pupil's education experience to be inclusive of both magical theory and wand-work, as well as its application in a chosen field.
As the years passed and society changed, however, businesses became more and more unscrupulous. Rather than volunteering their time to expound upon the skills students were specialising in at school and teaching them how to apply the knowledge in a real work environment; business proprietors readily exploited the situation. When the then Headmaster had caught wind of the undue influence his students were under, a successful application was made to the school Governors to make participation in the initiative all but impossible. Having amended the conditions rather over zealously led to even those with the best intentions being driven away. Little gain was worth the scrutiny of the new screening process. More years went by, businesses changed hands, generations passed… and eventually the very existence of such a program had become the stuff of legends. For the most part, people had just assumed the school had stopped doing it altogether.
Thinking of this, Estella regarded the Headmaster with a pensive look. "Are you sure you want to open this can of worms, Professor?" she said. "Won't Voldemort take it as an invitation to try and infiltrate the school? There are a lot of Death Eater's children here at the school who would surely nominate themselves to the program…"
"I can assure you that no agent of Tom's will manage to pass the selection criteria," promised Dumbledore. "And please, according to Fawkes there should be no distinction between us. Call me Albus."
Estella stared at the Headmaster in disbelief. Had the man gone completely senile?
"With all due respect, Headmaster," Estella persisted in addressing the man by his rightful title. "I do not think it wise to assume the infallibility of such selection techniques. Need I remind you of this school's history with Defence Against the Dark Arts professors?" she paused for effect. "As to your insistence that I call you by your given name, sir…" she smiled. "If Fawkes is as correct as you say about there being no distinction between us, then may I suggest that you bear in mind that such conditions also mean that I reserve the right to decide for myself what I call you and what directions of yours I choose to follow."
Albus Dumbledore stared at the determined student before him. With her short stature and pig tails she could pass for an innocent ten year old. One look at her face, however, told a different story. Eyes that had seen much more than their fair share of horrors gleamed at him determinedly like globes of steel. The sharp, aristocratic bone structure of her cheeks and jaw line borrowed from both sides of her bloodlines. Though she may have lacked the striking beauty of her mother, she was neither plain nor unsightly. He'd already noticed the young girl turn a few heads, and Albus could only suppose that the hormonal young men were drawn to the strength of her character, and poise. From the way she carried herself when she walked – as silent and graceful as her uncle – to her forwardness and impenetrable moral honesty; the girl exuded both confidence and an insightfulness far beyond her years. She was neither precocious or selfish, but rather rational and loyal. Her marks, particularly in Transfigurations, were not overly spectacular, but she managed to retain just what she needed and nothing more. A sharp wit and pointed tongue – most likely a direct influence of all three men in her life – veiled the slightest of insecurities within, Dumbledore could tell, but her mind was closed to him. With her keen, analytical, logical mind, Dumbledore could only surmise that the young Ravenclaw – who could just as easily been at home in any of the houses – had a way of working through things that very few would think possible of a teenager.
Leaning back in his chair thoughtfully, Dumbledore came to a rare crossing. Estella Black, he concluded, was a true chameleon of form… capable of adapting and thriving in just about any environment. He found himself feeling a fleeting moment of disappointment that Sirius had ever been found innocent, for it had cost him a future spy. There had been no doubt that that's where young Estella would have been headed if she had remained in her uncle's guardianship. With Lucius Malfoy displaying a vested interest in the girl from the moment of her birth, Albus knew that there would have been a place for her high up in the Dark Lord's ranks. And in light of the senior Mr Malfoy's contract on her father's life, there could very well still be…
"Quite right, young lady," Albus said finally, dismissing his meandering thoughts. The child was simply too strong willed and aware to fall for his ministrations. The only way she'd ever infiltrate the Dark Lord's circles would be on her own terms; that, Albus knew, would pose a dangerous risk over his tenuous hold over the side of the light. Already, he had started to lose face in the eyes of the other Order members because of the way he'd been backed into a corner and outplayed by a 13 year-old. Still, he found he couldn't be too surprised. Given who the child's parents were and how she was raised, she was always destined to be her own person.
"Having fun trying to get into my mind, Albus?" Estella asked suddenly, deliberately using his first name to unbalance the old wizard who'd come not to expect it from her. "I may not be as proficient as my uncle, but I can block a Hippogriff if I am determined enough."
"And you're determined enough to want to keep me out of your head?" Dumbledore mused aloud.
"Only because I can imagine how much it must torture you to not know something," smirked Estella. "I've nothing to hide. You need only know the right questions to ask."
"Ah, not one to give anything away, I see," said Albus, his eyes twinkling.
"Just returning the favour there, Professor," said Estella, implying the cryptic responses the old man had been giving her about Fawkes earlier.
Once the logistics of Estella's co-curricular activities had been addressed, Estella moved the conversation towards something else that had been bothering her. "Why did you send Hagrid to the Giants?" she asked. "He is not truly one of them. I don't see how having him attempt to advocate for you will result in anything other than Hagrid getting hurt."
"As with any decision in a time of war, dear child," said Dumbledore wearily. "No situation is without risk. Hagrid may only be a half-giant, but he stands a better chance appealing to their sensibilities than anyone else on this side of the war."
Estella remained unconvinced. Though she knew from her History lessons that Giants on the side of Voldemort would be a devastating blow to the coalition; she also knew that any effort to persuade the species otherwise would not deter them. If they were dark, they were dark. An – in their eyes, anyway – inferior half-breed trying to talk them around would only serve to drive them away in dissent. She knew it were very foolish to rely on inter-species support. In the first war, Voldemort called upon vampires and werewolves to serve him to varying degrees of success. Whilst the vampires were quick to distance themselves and become neutral once Tom started swelling his ranks with Inferi; werewolves were habitually pack creatures. The Snark Lord's methods of forcing the less loyal to do his bidding by being intimidating and threatening loved ones rubbed the Alphas of the packs the wrong way. In a rare instance of cooperation, the affected packs colluded their resources and defected to the side of neutrality. With an evil dictator on one side attempting to threaten them into submission on one side, and a bigoted Ministry rife with prejudice and belittlement on the other, the werewolves owed no one.
"All right, so why did you send Remus into pack territory, then?" she persisted in her attempt to hold the wizard accountable. "The packs won't join again. Not after what happened last time. It's the exiled you have to worry about."
By 'exiled', Estella was referring to the werewolves who had either been expelled from their pack, or never integrated into one. Those that became pack often did so either because their family was all bitten, or the werewolf who afflicted them with their curse was Alpha and had claimed them. As for people like her godfather, who were amongst an alarming number of young people turned for sport or retribution, they were looked down upon by the orthodox pack communities. In some ways, it wasn't much different to the kind of contempt a close knit family would have towards an unwanted illegitimate offspring. These werewolves, subsequently, were at greater risk of being lulled into Voldemort's service because not only were they shunned and ostracised from mainstream magical society, but they were also treated indifferently by their peers.
"Have you heard of Fenrir Greyback, Estella?" asked Dumbledore sadly. Estella shook her head slowly, ignoring the slight twinge that had begun to settle in the pit of her stomach. "Fenrir Greyback is perhaps the most fearsome and unscrupulous werewolf of this time. His bloodlust is so insatiable, that he does not confine his killing sprees to the full moon. Even the strongest of the packs fear him… which is why, in light of Greyback's association with Voldemort, the position of the packs can no longer be assured."
"But… but why Remus?" asked Estella, her mouth suddenly dry. "What hold would he have over the packs? He is persona non gratis amongst other werewolves because he has chosen to keep living normally…"
"Because he is the only individual to cross Fenrir Greyback and prosper," interrupted Dumbledore wearily.
Estella narrowed his eyes at the old man. There had to be something more to it than that. "Assuming Greyback is so horrible that he's accountable for a majority of the werewolf-related deaths, then doesn't it stand to reason that the packs have already been defying him all this time anyway because they don't put themselves in a position to harm others?"
"Yes, in a way," said Dumbledore. "But I assure you that your godfather is a special case."
"Why?" Estella sucked in a gasp when it suddenly became clear to her. "Oh, God… Greyback bit him, didn't he? He's defied his Alpha…"
Seeing the look of unadulterated panic on the young girl's features, Albus was quick to try and pacify the stricken child. "Yes, I acknowledge that your godfather's mission is not one to be taken lightly. He is a remarkable, brave man of which you should be very proud."
"His life is in danger?" said Estella, her voice almost a whisper as the slight twinge in her belly metastasised into a full blown stab.
"The packs will provide him with amnesty," said Dumbledore. "I assure you that they almost fear your godfather as much as they do the man who afflicted him."
It made sense that other werewolves would be awed and reverent of one reticent enough to defy his Alpha. At the same time, though…
"The Alphas will feel threatened by him!" said Estella, frowning. "They will think he is out to make the others defect!"
"I cannot deny that it may be a risk," admitted Dumbledore. "It is hoped that he can hold an audience with them without being an inadvertent threat to their territory. I assure you, however, that suitable precautions have been taken to ensure your godfather a safe passage should he need to extract himself quickly."
"And if someone feels slighted by his presence and tips off Greyback without anyone knowing?"
"Your godfather will know what to do," said Albus, implying that Estella call on the trust she had in her godfather to appease her. It was a polite, but distinct indicator that she end her questions.
"Very well," she said briskly, rising from her chair. "If there will be nothing else, I should like to get settled in my dormitory."
"Ah yes, it is getting frightfully late," said Dumbledore, his tone lighter and face more relaxed than it had been moments earlier. "Forgive me for keeping you so long!"
Nodding curtly, Estella made note of the barely concealed fatigue on the old wizard's features and bid her goodnight. For a moment, she was all but certain that she had seen a flicker of remorse in the Headmaster's eyes. As though she had caught a glimpse of his soul itself, she realised with sudden clarity that Albus Dumbledore was only human. Just like any mortal being, even he was capable of crumbling under the weight of his responsibility and making errors of judgement. If she was in his position, she didn't suppose she'd enjoy having to send people off into life-threatening situations whilst she was comparatively safe being in charge of a school. By the look on Dumbledore's face, it appeared that he didn't think too highly of it either.
Sensing the man's fallibility almost as though the normally unassuming wizard had purposefully broadcast his vulnerabilities to her, Estella nodded more slowly.
"I think I understand," she said quietly, not stopping to wait for a response as she let herself out of the office, bound for the spiral staircase.
As the door clicked shut softly behind her, Estella was almost certain she'd heard the wizard she'd left behind say that he was sorry. Mentally assessing the many things the old man could have been apologising for, Estella realised that though she may never be able to fully trust the man again, she'd already forgiven him.
Inexplicably waking up before dawn the next day, Estella could not get back to sleep. She'd lain awake for what seemed like hours after her discussion with the Headmaster. By all definition, she should be exhausted as she could hardly have cleared more than a handful of hours in sleep; yet she was resoundingly alert. Careful not to disturb the light rumblings of her sleeping dorm-mates, Estella rose quietly and gathered her things for the bathroom. After getting ready for the day and grabbing her book-bag, Estella left the Ravenclaw Tower.
With the Great Hall darkened and void of activity, Estella wandered through the familiar corridors of the school listlessly. Having shared a room with Harry for most of the summer, Estella found that she'd missed his presence first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Boys, she realised, habituated a room differently to girls. So, after swinging past the kitchens to pick up a hamper of breakfast goods, she by-passed the quarters in the dungeons she'd originally set out for and headed towards Gryffindor Tower.
"Harry!" she shook the sleeping boy quietly, her voice in a hoarse whisper. Even though she'd crept up into the boy's dormitory sight unseen and had closed Harry's curtains around her with a privacy spell for good measure, she couldn't help but keep her voice down.
"Estella?" Harry sat up almost immediately, not unfamiliar with her ways of waking him up. "What are you doing in here? How'd you get in?"
"Don't tell me I have to explain the virtues of a door knob to you as well!" said Estella in mock exasperation. She'd come in through the teacher's entrance her uncle had shown her years before; but that wasn't entirely relevant. "I brought you breakfast in bed for your first day of classes!"
"What did you do to it?" Harry squinted his eyes at Estella suspiciously. She handed him his glasses and bent down to pick up the hamper by her feet.
"I resent that!" she said, though she couldn't blame him for being suspicious after the summer they'd just had together. "Look, I'll even take a bite of everything first, see?"
Unable to resist the inviting aromas of freshly baked muffins and the sweet smell of ripe fruit, Harry accepted a share of Estella's bounty. With Estella making herself comfortable next to Harry as he sat propped up against the bed board, the two reminisced about their summer and caught up since they'd not spoken to each other since early on their train ride.
"Professor Slughorn was on the train?" asked Estella, surprised.
"Yeah, he invited a bunch of us into Compartment C for lunch," said Harry. "Even Slytherins."
"Well that's not surprising since he is a Slytherin!" Estella rolled her eyes at Harry's slightly stunned look. "Does he still go on about an intolerance to Liquorice Wands and surround himself with people that make him look good?"
"I thought you liked your Potions tutor?"
"I did… I do," said Estella, shrugging. "But that doesn't mean I have to stand for his behaviour. No, he and I had an understanding from the beginning. I went to him to learn Potions… I didn't want to join his little Slug Club of favoured alumni."
Harry shrugged, brushing the crumbs of his banana muffin off his pyjama leg. "Still, I'm looking forward to his class," he said. "Maybe with no one breathing down my neck I'll start to do better."
"Maybe," said Estella quietly, not quite able to understand how her uncle could continue to single Harry out after all this time. "So why were you late coming to dinner? You hadn't even changed into your robes yet."
"What, you're not going to ask me how I got a bloody nose?" asked Harry, feigning hurt.
"I already know what happened to your nose," said Estella grimly. "I saw Malfoy's face when you walked in. That's beside the point. What were you doing putting yourself in a position to be attacked like that?"
"Oh, you're one to talk, Miss I-might-just-take-a-stroll-down-Knockturn-Alley!" said Harry, raising a brow. At Estella's glacial glare, he backed off. "All right, so I kinda used my cloak to spy on the Slytherins after Zambini headed back there from Slughorn's lunch."
Estella bit back a retort, knowing full too well that it wasn't her place to tear into the young, foolish Gryffindor when her own behaviour had not been much different in following both Draco and Lucius to Borgin and Burke's. "Be careful, Harry," she said finally. "He's dangerous. My uncle says there's no redeeming him."
"I'll say," said Harry darkly. "Not that he couldn't be anymore obvious. Do you know when Tonks and I saw him in Madame Malkin's he refused to roll up his sleeve to be measured? And when I overheard him talking to the other Slytherins in the carriage he was going on about being on some mission or something for him."
"He could have just been trying to save face in the light of not being invited to Slughorn's carriage, Harry, with that last bit," said Estella thoughtfully. "Or maybe he was deliberately exaggerating because he knew you were there?"
"I still think he's a carbon copy of his father, the bastard," said Harry, his body going rigid. "Stay away from him, Estella, I mean it! He might have treated you all right in the past, but he's up to something."
"A Malfoy is always up to something," said Estella, smirking slightly. "But so is a Snape, and so is a Black."
"You scare me sometimes, Estella," said Harry, shivering slightly at the implications of her words.
Estella said nothing. Her mind was too busy piecing together segments of what her uncle had said with Harry's news that Draco as good as admitted to working for the Dark Lord. Was Draco's early servitude Lucius' toll for asking Voldemort to spare her life? Estella didn't know what she felt about that… it was too much like a life debt for comfort.
Both children were roused from their respective musings by a muffled voice singing loudly. "Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day…" the teens could hear Sirius' voice coming from a pocket in Estella's robe.
"Bugger," said Estella, inwardly reminding herself that she really ought to charm the mirror to be more discreet. Pulling the little handheld device out from her robes, she rolled her eyes at her father's reflection. "You know, Dad, you're not going to get any owls if you keep bugging me on the two-way."
"Three-way," Sirius reminded his daughter. "Moony says he caught you on the train yesterday. I'm glad you got off okay. Nice of you to mirror-call and let me know, hmm?"
"In a carriage full of teenagers?" said Estella. "I'm sorry, I forgot."
"You leave me for an hour and already you're forgetting me?" asked Sirius. "Oh, the pain!"
Beside Estella, Harry started to chuckle dryly. In the mirror, Estella could have sworn she'd seen her father's ears twitch. "Who's with you? Where are you? You should still have been in bed! No one is ever up this early on the first day of classes!" said Sirius, his eyes looking as though they wanted to direct the way in which Estella was pointing the mirror.
"Well, there's a first for everything," said Estella. "Woke up early and thought I'd go surprise Harry with breakfast in bed. He's with me now."
"Wait, you're in… in bed with Harry?" Sirius' eyes widened at Estella's nod, and he grinned. "And they say history never repeats! Estella, did I ever tell you what your mother did for me on our first day of fifth year?"
A memory hit Estella's mind like a bludger. It had been the first day of term during her time in the past. Her parents had just begun to date over the previous summer, and as a fellow Ravenclaw, Estella, as Aries, had seen her mother sneak out of their dormitory early on the first day of classes.
"I… I thought she just went to the library!" said Estella. At her father's wiggling eyebrows, she groaned. "Not this again! Ugh, Harry, talk sense into him!"
Harry, however, was too busy cringing in his own embarrassment. Though they had just spent the entire summer as practically brother and sister, their guardian never spared an opportunity to remind the pair of how their parents had once romanticised about them ending up together. "No way!" both teenagers scowled at the mirror in defiance.
Sirius sighed. "Pity," he said insincerely, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's good to see you two looking out for each other." As a sensible afterthought, he added; "not so sure I'm comfortable about you traipsing the corridors alone before dawn though, kiddo."
"Dad!" Estella exclaimed. "Come on! Hogwarts is the safest place to be!"
"Says the girl who passed Voldemort the butter for an entire year!" snickered Harry, referring to when Quirrel had been Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher the year before Estella began classes.
"So? When the Snark Lord develops high cholesterol and drops dead of a heart attack next time you duel him, you'll thank me!" retorted Estella, not missing a beat.
"Only if you haven't chewed his ear off before I get a crack at him!" Harry threw back.
Meanwhile, Sirius was shaking his head in a mix of awe and amazement. "To think we actually let you lot into the Order! Ratbags, the pair of you!"
"What'd you disappear off to Dumbledore's office last night for anyway?" Harry asked suddenly. "I tried to find you after the feast and your friends said you couldn't get to his office fast enough."
"Albus and I just had a few matters to discuss," said Estella with a false tone of importance. "Can you believe he actually asked me to call him Albus in private? I won't though, but I just wanted to see your faces!"
"What did you have to speak with him about so early in the school year?" Sirius was frowning. "I know this is what you want to do, kiddo, but spare a mind for your schooling, hmm? I don't just mean your schoolwork either – you have to enjoy being a kid while you can. That goes for both of you."
"Well that's it exactly, Dad," said Estella. "I wanted to clear a few things up with him so that they wouldn't get in the way of me being with my friends when it counts." Her father still looked troubled. "Listen, maybe we ought to cut the coot some slack. He's clearly gotten the point now. I don't think he'll underestimate us again anytime soon."
Before either Harry or Sirius could comment on Estella's words, Harry's dorm-mates began to stir into wakefulness as a charmed clock begun to chime. Noting the time, Sirius acted. "Have a good day at school, kids," he said quickly. "Estella, I'll see you on Friday night."
Friday night was the next Order meeting, and Estella was scheduled to give a report. Nodding wistfully, Estella handed the mirror to Harry whilst she banished the breakfast things back to the kitchen with her wand so that he could say goodbye to her father. Accepting the weathered piece of glass back from the bespectacled boy, she made sure the connection was severed before wrapping the mirror back up and stowing it away in her pocket. Picking up her book bag, and wordlessly accepting Harry's Invisibility Cloak, she wrapped it around herself just in time for Harry to pull back the curtains around his bed and say good morning to his fellow housemates. Slipping out the door behind Neville as he shuffled along towards the bathroom, she darted down the stairs, unseen, to wait in the Common Room. There, she could take off the cloak and return it to Harry when he came down the stairs. The other Gryffindor house members would then just assume that one of their own had given the young Ravenclaw the password or had let her in themselves.
"Estella?" a questioning voice called out to Estella, and she opened her eyes from where she'd been dozing slightly in the soft recline of a leather armchair. "What are you doing down here?"
"Oh, morning, Ginny," Estella yawned, her early morning catching up with her. "I just came over to see Harry. Was kinda strange waking up and not having him in the room with me like I did most of the summer."
"Is that his cloak?" Ginny frowned. "You were in the boy's dorms?"
"Yeah," shrugged Estella. "Brought me n' Harry up some breakfast… though I daresay he'll probably eat another helping in the Great Hall, being a growing boy and all."
Estella watched the young redhead as her lips narrowed into thin strips, and frowned. "You, ah, you don't have to worry about competition or anything," said Estella carefully. "If that's what's bothering you. I don't think of Harry in that way."
"And I do?" said Ginny a little too defensively to mean it, Estella thought. "What, I can't have a crush on Harry! Not anymore anyway… I'm going out with Dean you know!"
"Uh, yeah, whatever you say," said Estella, though she could just tell that her classmate was deluding herself if she thought she didn't still have unrequited feelings for Harry.
"Hmmm," Ginny narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired Ravenclaw. "Are you sure it's not you with the crush? You keep saying that he's like a brother to you, but it sounds to me as though you're trying to convince yourself of that more than anything else."
"Would you rather I did have those kind of feelings for my father's godson?" asked Estella, putting her Slytherin side to work. Catching the panicked look in the youngest Weasley's eyes as the girl momentarily thought Estella was admitting to such feelings for Harry, she smirked in silent victory. "I thought not…" her eyes travelled up the stairs to where footsteps were approaching before crossing back to look the Gryffindor in the eye. "A word of advice, though? You're going to have to put that lion's courage to work and make the first move if it's what you want because he never will; least of all when he thinks you're involved with someone else."
"It's not what I want," said Ginny firmly, but by the look on her face, Estella could tell that she wasn't even convinced of that fact.
"Suit yourself," Estella shrugged nonchalantly. "All the same, if it were, I'd be worrying about Cho Chang, not me."
Ginny had opened her mouth to retort again when they were interrupted by an exclaiming Hermione. The bushy-haired Gryffindor had come downstairs and made her usual beeline towards the noticeboard, only to be surprised by its contents.
"Oh for heaven's sake! They are the limit," said Hermione grimly, drawing their attention to a flier the Weasley twins had erected to advertise for test subjects. The conscientious Prefect wasted no time in removing the brightly coloured page, revealing the official school notice of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October.
As though cursed with perennially bad timing, Ron and Harry entered the Common Room just as Hermione turned around. The twins' sign still in her hand, she stormed up to the taller redhead and waved the offending piece of paper in the bewildered boy's face.
"Ron, we have to talk to your brothers!"
"Why?" Ron looked positively alarmed.
"Because we're prefects!" said Hermione, as she climbed through the portrait hole, causing the others to hustle along in her wake. The last to go through the portrait hole with Harry, Estella could hear the bushy-haired prefect still tearing strips off of Ron. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!"
"Aren't you glad you didn't make prefect?" said Estella quietly whispering in Harry's ear as he looked ahead at Ron's slumped shoulders in sympathy.
Amidst their discussion, Harry and Estella had fallen back from Ron, Ginny and Hermione. Harry had just moved onto the subject of Quidditch and was reaching into his pocket to pull something out to show Estella, when someone walked around the corner towards them.
"Hello, Harry!"
It was Cho Chang and, what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual; Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls.
"Hi," said Harry, ignoring Estella's snigger at his expression.
"You got all that stuff off, then?" Cho was referring to the horrible Stinksap that had permeated their last encounter. As though seeing Estella for the first time, the dark-haired girl looked down her nose at the younger student. "You're Snape's niece, aren't you? Third year, right?"
"Fourth, actually," said Estella though gritted teeth.
"Oh, well I wouldn't know it from your size," Cho looked her up and down scathingly. "Oh, that's right, your birthday's later in the year, isn't it? You get special permission to start school early? Your uncle being a head of house and all…"
"Yeah, whatever, Chang," said Estella with an equally false tone. Noticing the glint of a badge on the annoying girl's robes, she pointed. "Is that a Tornados badge? You don't support them, do you?"
"Yeah, I do," said Cho.
"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" said Estella in an accusatory tone of voice. Her summer with a houseful of Quidditch fans was evidently beginning to rub off.
"I've supported them since I was six," said Cho coolly. "Anyway… see you, Harry."
She walked away. Harry waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Estella. "You are so tactless!" he hissed. "Are you trying to stop Cho from liking me?"
Estella snorted and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry? Nothing can stop that bitch once she's got you in her sights," she ignored Harry's darkening look. "Trust me, okay, you don't want to involve yourself with the likes of Cho Chang. She's an attention-seeking drama queen."
"Are you saying that no girl would want to go out with me if I wasn't famous?" said Harry, hurt.
"I didn't say that, Harry," Estella sighed in exasperation. "Just Cho."
"Yeah, well, I don't see any other girl knocking down my door!" said Harry bitterly.
"Oh Harry, are you truly that dense?" she shook her head in amazement. "Has it ever occurred to you that girls… all the decent ones anyway… stay away from you because they are intimidated by your status?"
"But why would they be? You aren't! Hermione isn't!" said Harry.
"Harry, hello! I was raised by my uncle; and Hermione is a Muggleborn!" she said. "We didn't exactly grow up with heroic bedtime stories of 'the-boy-who-lived'!"
"Wait, I am not a bedtime story!" said Harry in mild resentment. "Other Muggleborns don't give me a chance!"
"There's a whole section of children's books on you in Flourish and Botts! Why'd you think your vault is so full?" Estella cocked a brow in challenge. Harry backed off. "As for the other Muggleborns, they can't get five minutes into the train journey without catching onto the hysteria that goes on whenever you pass a carriage! It was just happenstance that Hermione met you and reached her own opinion of you before having her impression addled by the reputation of your name."
Getting back to the main point, Harry frowned. "I can go out with Cho if I want to!" he said stubbornly.
"Oh, like you lusted over her before the Yule Ball only to watch her pick up with Diggory because everyone saw him as the 'rightful' Hogwarts Champion and being with him got her better attention?" scoffed Estella. She'd heard all about Cho's antics during her absence the previous year from her housemates. "I tell you, Harry, a girl that ambitious and shallow ought to have been placed in Slytherin!"
"I don't have to listen to this!" Harry scowled. "Just because we spend our summers together, it doesn't give you authority to tell me how to live my life!"
Staring dumbfounded at Harry's cool demeanour, Estella's face fell. Biting back the anger bubbling in her gut, she said nothing and spun on her heel, suddenly wishing to place as much space as possible between herself and the pigheaded Gryffindor. She doubted Harry had any idea just how much what he had just said had cut her to the bone. Was that all she and her father were to Harry? Someone he had to spend his summers with? Stalking her way down the dimly lit corridor, Estella headed off to the Ravenclaw common room in search of her friends. All the while she couldn't dismiss the nagging thought in the back of the mind that maybe she reacted so adversely to Cho's interest in Harry because she was jealous.
'No,' she shook her head violently, trying to convince herself that it wasn't the case. 'He's as good as a Brother! Anything more is just wrong!'
…or was it?
Walking down to the first lesson of the day was a very surreal experience for Estella. Not only was her mind still reeling from the confrontation she'd had with Harry an hour earlier, but she and her classmates were about to attend a Potions lesson taught by someone other than her uncle.
The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapours and odd smells. Estella, Reg, John and Elsie sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons; Estella relieved when the fumes triggered no memories of Malfoy. Choosing a table closest to a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Estella had ever inhaled tickled her senses. Somehow it reminded her simultaneously of chocolate, the musty smell of books and something masculine she thought she might have smelled on her father's dresser. She found that she was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling her up like drink. A great contentment stole over her; she grinned across at her friends, who grinned lazily back.
'Amortentia!' she realised with a start. The love potion was one that her uncle had never practically taught her – for he did not approve of potions being put to such uses. She had, of course, read all about its effects.
The other two cauldrons, as much as Estella could tell, held equal quantities of Veritaserum, Polyjuice and Felix Felicis. In all her excitement, Estella had all but forgotten the memories certain potion smells stirred in her. She suspected that the spirals of steam coming from the Amortentia had something to do with it. Pulling out the standard fourth-year Potions' text, Estella found herself genuinely looking forward to the lesson.
"I cannot tell you how pleased I am to begin my appointment with this particular class!" Horace Slughorn's beady eyes glinted at Estella as he said this. "For those who do not know me," – his eyes regarded the rest of the class – "I should point out that I taught many of your parents. So, forgive me if I may confuse you for your mother or for your father… in this dim light, the likenesses can be quite striking. I never forget a brewer's style, however," – again he looked at Estella knowingly, his Slytherin mind surely getting great kicks out of the private little secret buried in his words – "Give me a week and I will have most certainly succeeded in separating you all from your parents before you."
The lesson continued in much the same fashion, with Estella's friends quick to make comparisons with the unbearable Professor Lockhart from first year. "He's only like this when he has an audience," whispered Estella as the elderly teacher began explaining the contents of each of the respective cauldrons. "Unlike Lockhart, however, he is a master of his craft."
Another twenty minutes into the lesson, and Estella's friends were inclined to agree. All too soon, it seemed, they were bottling samples of their class work for grading and gathering their books together. The clock had announced the end of the lesson, but no one had left yet because the professor had yet to select the recipient of a sample of Felix Felicis; the luck potion he'd bottled as a reward for the student who brewed the best potion that class.
"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon as he laid eyes on Estella's cauldron. "Excellent, excellent, Estella! Good Lord, it's clear you've inherited your talent from your mother's side of the family. Dab hands at Potions, every single one of you! Here you are, then, here you are – one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"
Estella dismissed her initial suspicion of favouritism when she remembered how serious the man really did take his potions. As much as he may try to bolster his profile by associating with celebrated alumni; Estella knew that he'd never merit an inferior potion to win points. Accepting the tiny bottle of golden liquid with a short nod of acknowledgement, Estella thanked the Potions Master and was ready to leave just as he dismissed them.
A few minutes later, Estella and her classmates were congregated outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, waiting for their lesson to begin. The exasperated Ravenclaw had barely finished convincing her housemates that Slughorn was not playing favourites with her and that judging their potions fairly was the one thing they could count on the man for, when her uncle swept out into the corridor.
"Inside," he said.
Not allowing herself to think of how much of her statement the former Potions professor might have heard, Estella looked around as they entered. Her uncle had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.
"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk. The entire Ravenclaw contingent of the class hastily dropped their copies of the assigned text back into their bags. "I wish to speak to you and I want your fullest attention."
Idly, Estella wondered if her uncle had composed a new speech to inflict upon the unsuspecting first-years. He could not very well open a Defence lesson with promises to teach them about brewing glory and putting a stopper in death. As though sensing that her attention was not on him, Severus' black eyes roved over the upturned faces of Estella's classmates, before lingering for a fraction longer on her own in warning.
"You have had three teachers in this subject so far, I believe." At this, Estella raised a brow – as if her uncle hadn't watched each teacher like a hawk after Quirrel's deception. "Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised how many of you are still alive. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to make it past O.W.L level on account of your poor foundation in this vital subject."
Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "However," he said, halting his penetrating gaze on a select few – Estella particularly – before going on. "Some of us possess either the predisposition or added advantage or private tuition. Complacency will not be tolerated from those of you with skills vastly superior to your peers. No level of achievement is high enough in this field! From this perspective you all have a lot of catching up to do!"
The lesson continued in much the same way, and after a brief practical introduction to defensive posture, the class was dismissed.
"Miss Black, stay behind," her uncle called her back without even looking up from his notes. Sensing that her uncle would likely wish to spend the entire lunch hour with her, she informed her friends that she'd see them next in Charms.
Waiting until they were alone in the classroom, Estella made her way over to her uncle's desk and set her bag down casually. Knowing better than to interrupt him as he completed making note of his observations, Estella allowed her eyes to drift to the disturbing images on the wall.
"Ohhh," she cooed sarcastically to herself as she began to pace the portrait-lined wall between the desks. "How homely…"
So caught up was she in her imaginative projection of what the typical Death Eater home must look like, that she'd not noticed the soft whisper of robes moving, nor caught the flickering shadow of movement that signalled attack. Before she could even react to her uncle's non-verbal disarming spell and turn around, Estella found herself sprawled on the floor under a full-body bind.
"You have not been practicing," her uncle stated in disapproval as he loomed over her, her wand in his hand.
A subtle wave of his other hand and Estella felt the spell lift. Her uncle handed her back her wand, handle first, before assisting her to her feet. Accepting the help, Estella pulled herself up and brushed off her robes, her eyes staring at her uncle in a mix of shock and indignation.
"I wasn't expecting to be ambushed in the classroom!" she defended herself righteously. "I held my own in class, didn't I?"
"Against your fellow class, perhaps," her uncle considered. "Your partner did not yield as soon as I would expect of you. Did you not listen to a thing I said at the beginning of the lesson? I will not tolerate complacency!"
"I was not being complacent!" said Estella, turning her nose up at her uncle. "I'm just a little rusty! It's not like I can practice over summer anymore!"
"Neither can your peers!" her uncle pointed out. "Did you not even drill on defensive manoeuvres? No wand play is required for that!"
"We couldn't very well do anything when we were all couped up at Grimmauld Place!"
"Foolish girl," her uncle hissed, pointing his wand at the open door, wordlessly causing it to swing on its hinges and slam shut. "Do not mention that place here! The walls have ears!"
Estella was inclined to point out that any random eavesdropper listening in on their conversation would only have cause to suspect the importance of Grimmauld Place by his reaction; but she didn't. Her uncle backed away from her slightly and began to pace, his hands firmly clasped behind his back, knuckles white as they gripped his wand.
"And what of your… sojourn abroad?" he chose his words carefully. "Was it not the purpose of that location to provide you with adequate space to train?"
"Well, actually, the point was to go somewhere and get away from…" Estella was cut off by the fluid motion of her uncle turning on his axis and swooping down upon her.
"Do you think your enemy is going to care whether or not you were expecting their attack?" he hissed, gripping her by the shoulders firmly and leaning down into her face so that their eyes were level. "Do you think the Dark Lord will consider whether or not you have learned something in class before he curses you? What is there to be gained by spending your time indulging in childish pursuits when your foe will not make concessions to that end? If you have any hope of surviving the years ahead, Estella, you must prepare! I had hoped your father had more sense, but I see my initial concern was valid."
"Now wait here a minute!" Estella shrugged out of her uncle's grip and glared at him. "My father wouldn't do anything to endanger me! He just wanted to give Harry and me a chance to be kids!"
"By halving your chances of surviving to adulthood?" her uncle glowered a little before regaining his resolve. "Estella, it is regrettable that you've not had the opportunity to live your life as others before you. But my prerogative has always been to ensure you are equipped to overcome whatever dangers are thrown your way. Your father needs to understand that such preparation comes at a cost – there can be no balance! Your performance in class today and lack of awareness just now is testament to that!"
Estella blinked away the burning sensation in her eyes and stared at her uncle stubbornly. His dark eyes inches from her own, Estella was startled to recognise the emotions therein. Fear, panic, worry, fatigue, concern, determination, anger… love – precious few could see past the barriers and into Severus Snape's soul, and for those that did, the power of emotion that hit you was overwhelming. Estella realised all at once that her uncle was not angry at her, he was scared. She realised with a start that, on some level, her father's ambivalence had rubbed off. For those who knew Sirius Black as the young up-starting Auror or rambunctious schoolboy, he was known for being self-assured and confident. To men of his calibre, a chance victory over an opponent set a precedent, assuring future successes.
While the father she knew was conversely unsure and doubtful of his abilities as a parent, Estella realised that his approach to her ability to handle herself in battle was a clouded one. He'd seen her escape death twice now, and so rather than address the possibility of fate dealing a different hand, Sirius chose to deny that his daughter was no more infinite in luck than she was ability. Though Estella readily accepted that this mindset was more than likely her father's way of assuring himself of her safety; her uncle's words contained an echo of truth. She had become complacent.
"You are right," she admitted with no amount of chagrin. "I will try harder."
Severus nodded curtly at his niece in acknowledgement before stepping back and gesturing that she follow him into his private office. Whilst he then took to summoning the Floo Powder that would take them to his quarters in the dungeon; Estella noted that her godfather's former office had taken on a distinctly darker quality.
"Where'd you dig up all this creepy stuff?" Estella stared at a jar full of Basilisk eyes warily. Spotting a familiar dark amulet on the mantle as she made to use the Floo, her eyes widened. "Hey, what's that doing here?"
His jaw twitching ever so slightly, Severus quickly regained control over his features and moved to stand between his niece and the item she was reaching for. Not missing a beat, he poured some Floo Powder into the outstretched hand before him and looked down upon the girl in consideration. "Certain items of… value… could not be destroyed," he explained, referring to the amulet he'd so carelessly left in view of the girl who'd recognise its origin. "Rather than risk such an artefact landing in unsavoury hands, I have demonstrably kept it for educational purposes."
Knowing from her uncle's tone that she wasn't going to get much more explanation than that, Estella gave the man a calculating look. When she had commissioned the man's help in purging Grimmauld Place of its evil holdings, she'd not really paid much thought as to what her uncle would do with that which could not be destroyed. She'd assumed that it would all be boxed up and sealed deep within the dungeon of some family estate somewhere. Dismissing her assumption with a shrug, Estella closed her hand around the fine powder and stepped around her uncle to face the fireplace once more. "Fair 'nuff," she quipped, looking back at her uncle and smirking at his visible cringe at her inarticulate delivery. Before he could reprimand her, however, Estella had thrown the Floo Powder into the hearth and stepped into the green flames. "Snape Quarters."
Charms followed her uneventful, private lunch with her uncle, but her mind was hardly on task – she was far too anxious about the final lesson of the day: her first session with Benson Ollerton. Estella was not the only participant visibly anticipating the session. As Dumbledore had informed her the night before, her Charms professor and Head of House, Professor Flitwick, had volunteered his time to collaborate on the venture. From his raised podium in front of the class, it was clear that he was having a difficult time containing his excitement.
"Who put fire ants in Flitwick's drawers?" John gestured towards said teacher, a puzzled expression on his face. "Even for a Ravenclaw, it's positively criminal for anyone to be that chipper on the first day of classes!"
"Actually, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost say he couldn't wait for class to finish," Reg followed their teacher's agitated pacing with his eyes. "He couldn't be more obvious if he charmed the clock to hover in his line of sight."
"Don't go giving him any ideas," Elsie cautioned him, shaking her head. Catching how Professor Flitwick's gaze seemed to favour Estella on each pass, she turned to the dark-haired girl next to her in realisation. "Hey, Estella, don't you have that special class thing next? Is that why Professor Flitwick's so excited?" At Estella's hesitant nod, she gaped. "Merlin, wish we all could be in on it! I know you keep saying it's gonna be no picnic and all, but it must really be something to get him so jumped up!"
"Well, you know," Estella said casually. "I may need to call on some trusted classmates for assistance."
"Oh, would you?" three heads spun around to smile hopefully at Estella. Warmed by their conscientious enthusiasm towards learning and their unbridled support for her choice in extra curricular activities, Estella found that she was once again thankful of the Sorting Hat's choice. There'd be no way her friends would be so understanding and unquestioning had she been in Gryffindor. The Hufflepuffs would have considered her disloyal for embarking on something without them and the Slytherins would have likely tried to sabotage her for their own personal gains.
Mr Ollerton – Benson, as Estella had to keep reminding herself if she were to work so closely with him over coming months – was waiting for her in Professor Flitwick's office when she followed the short man into the room after class. By the look on the elderly wizard's face, the simple broom-maker was as excited as the affable Ravenclaw Head of House, but Estella just could not see what the fuss was all about.
'Boys and their brooms…' she inwardly rolled her eyes.
Though she knew she really ought to be paying attention to what the two men were explaining to her, Estella could not help but let her eyes wander to the undiscovered bounty that was her Charms teacher's office. Unlike the private offices the squat little man occupied in his capacity as Estella's Head of House; she'd never actually seen the interior of the Charms classroom's adjunct office. She'd never had reason to, for, as someone like Ron Weasley would say – with an unflattering scowl on his face, no less – she was a swot.
From what little of her companion's preambles she did absorb, the location of her private office was accessible via a limited Floo connection in any of the Hogwarts head staff's offices. Not all together dissimilar to the Chamber of Secrets in its exclusivity, the 'Keep' as it was so coined, fell on no map and was inaccessible to all of whom the castle did not see fit to grant entry. Unsubstantiated speculation amongst Hogwarts historians suggested that the Keep was designed by Rowena Ravenclaw herself and had been used by the founder as a private retreat during her tenure.
'The Grey Lady was right!' Estella marvelled to herself as she made to follow her Head of House through the Floo. The Ravenclaw ghost had, in her omniscient after-life, frequently alluded to the existence of such a room… but over the centuries, the living had become somewhat immune to the suggestion. Ghosts, as everyone knew, had eternity on their hands, and so you just couldn't put it past one to amuse themselves by messing with the malleable minds of the living.
If Estella was expecting a neglected, barren, featureless room deep within the heart of Hogwarts, she was pleasantly surprised. Though the walls were, as expected, consistent with the exposed stone architecture of much of the castle, the room had a distinctly modern feel to it. The vintage oak bookshelves that lined the walls, full of old leather-bound books may have leant to the rustic theme; but that was where the old world ended, and the new world began. Estella didn't know who, and she didn't know how, but she somehow knew that deep purple carpet was not an original feature. Nor had she ever expected plush, brightly coloured furniture to form a part of the school's inventory. After ogling the fire-engine red swivel chair and marvelling at how it seemed to work with the citrus coloured ottomans and power-blue lounge; her eyes were unwaveringly drawn to the distinctive flash of chrome on the shelve beyond the large oak desk.
"A sound system!" she gaped reverently at the set up and gravitated towards the small library of compact discs she saw nearby. "That's where my Led Zepplin got to!"
"Your godfather was of the mind that you would be most productive in a comfortable working environment," Benson explained. "He was quite adamant that we created a space that was least like a school. Your father, too, was instrumental in overseeing the House Elves' efforts."
"Figures," Estella scoffed, turning pensive as she recognised a throw from their vacation home. Hooking her fingers in the worn, coarse granny squares of the crocheted pattern, Estella could almost smell the sea spray again.
It made sense that her godfather and father would go to town in fitting out the room in such a way. How the Marauders would have gnawed off a limb to have their own private oasis like this. Taking in the room around her again, a small vice began to squeeze on her heart as she recognised little nuances abut the room that would actually have characterised a room of the Marauder's design. The colours, for instance, were all corresponding to the livery of several of her father's favoured Quidditch teams. Wall mounts for what Estella knew were practical as a storage spot for prototype brooms would also have taken pride of place in any room of James' conception, and no retreat for Remus would be complete without an easy chair and music.
"Are you quite all right, child?" Professor Flitwick waddled over to her in small steps and looked up at her in concern. Though Estella was hardly tall by anyone's measure, the dwarfed wizard barely cleared the fourth year's elbow.
Blinking away at the fierce burning in her eyes, Estella took a deep breath to steel herself. "No, but I will be," she said frankly, trying frantically not to think of how excitable the elder Potter would have been in her shoes and how his sorely missed companionship had brought a light to her father's eyes that she'd never seen in his adult form.
'I'm doing this for you, Prongs,' she told herself. 'So we can kick some slimy shit-eater ass and make sure that all those empty chairs around the table weren't in vain…' Her thoughts becoming more and more sinister and abstract in delivery, she couldn't help but picture a jumped-up, out of control broom, programmed to explode with Voldemort on it.
"That's it," she muttered to herself, smirking darkly. "No more Wile E. Coyote for me!"
"Pardon?" two clueless wizards regarded her with a puzzled expression, seemingly unable to keep up with the ever-changing emotions the girl was giving out.
"Never mind," she said, shaking her head and returning her attention to the stack of CDs on the shelf. "Oh there's that CD!"
Despite the seemingly infinite supply of distractions, Estella quickly settled into her new workspace, enabling the threesome to get a few solid hours work in before dinner. The resources Benson had to offer, she was quick to realise, were crucial in helping her understand the magic she had been entrusted to act as a conduit for. Normally speaking, someone in Estella's position should not have been able to consciously access the borrowed magic of another. That she was able to at all probably had something to do with the magic being affected by her journey forward in time.
After several hours of being introduced to the Benson family's collection of notes and books on the subject of broom manufacturing, it was becoming increasingly apparent to Estella that there was a lot more to it than simply incanting a spell. If Professor Flitwick's theory were to prove correct, that she did not fully comprehend the magic she was using attributed to why the charms applied to Harry's Firebolt did not hold. It was equally important, as Benson demonstrated from the extensively detailed journals of his father that all charms ought to be customised at time of development. Brooms modified after the fact were notoriously unreliable when it came to delivering a consistent performance; which is why wizards either trade in their models or make do with what they have, seldom resorting to refurbishment.
In a number of ways, Estella could not really understand why Dumbledore couldn't find someone else to do what she was being asked to do. Between Professor Flitwick's keen mind helping her interpret the countless charms magically installed in her mind, and Benson providing specific support in terms of handling any transfigurations, it was almost as though she was learning to charm brooms from scratch. Where she supposed Dumbledore was coming from, however, was that she was at a greater advantage to any other candidate because she already knew a majority of the practical aspects. For a trusted individual to prescribe themselves to the regular Apprenticeship program and learn the spells normally would take too much time… time the Order did not have. Not that Estella was given the responsibility by default by any means. For, as Benson was soon to discover, the imaginative inventiveness of a resourceful child with Muggle inspiration was equal, if not better, than the innovativeness of the most seasoned developer.
"I know I've said it before, my dear," the aging businessman was relentless. "But there's a job for you with the company as soon as you graduate… sooner, even, if your father would allow it."
Estella was uncomfortable. The mere inference that she so much as think of ending her education early seeming unfathomable to her keen Ravenclaw mind. "With all due respects, sir," she said, slipping back to formalities as she endeavoured to let the man down lightly. "I would like to-"
"-keep your options open until you've graduated and have a more rounded idea of what's out there," Benson finished for her, all too familiar with her rebukes. "My Aries was the same. Good, solid, level head on her shoulders…"
The man's voice had dropped to a low whisper before dropping off completely; his mind awash with memories. Almost unnoticeable from his place buried behind a book much too large for his small frame, Professor Flitwick put down his reading to look upon the still-grieving father in sympathy. "Yes, yes, I remember," the oblivious professor announced, not actually aware of Estella's role in the past and the specifics of how she became affiliated with the Ollertons. "Remarkable student indeed."
Eyes wide, Benson shot Estella a covert look of surprise, the unbidden question not needing to leave his lips. 'Doesn't he know?'
Estella shrugged. Whilst on one level it was crucial to the security of the Order to limit the number of outsiders privy to its activities, Estella couldn't very well see how she could work in such close quarters to her Head of House and not be honest with him. It was with a sickening feeling in her stomach that she noted that, in being approached to assist her on her mission for the Order, Professor Flitwick had fallen hook, line and sinker for Dumbledore's manipulations. So swept up was the little man in his excitement about the opportunity to delve into a little-known branch of Charms, that he didn't question Estella's role in it all. As far as the proud Head of House was concerned, his notable fourth year had been singled out for a mentoring program in the hopes it would further develop areas in which she showed promise.
The question of disclosure, Estella knew, would have to be something she drew attention to at the next Order meeting. Benson, for example, had elected not to accept a nomination to join the Order's numbers, and yet he was counted as amongst one of Dumbledore's few confidantes. It seemed ridiculous – not to mention a manipulative, one-handed power play – for the majority of Hogwarts staff to remain in the dark about the Order's reformation. Then again, with Ministry trolls such as Dolores Umbridge underfoot, and the propensity for some of the more trusting alumni to gossip in the staff room, perhaps there was some merit in keeping things so quiet. With such a strong grounding in Ravenclaw ethics, however, Estella found it hard to reconcile her Head of House as being among the sort who'd not be able to use his judgement wisely.
Estella was still mulling over this; specifically trying to pinpoint why Dumbledore simply hadn't told the man already, when she joined her housemates for dinner. So caught up in her musings was she, that she all but completely overlooked the narrow stares a number of her classmates were giving her. The jibes from her friends about being teacher's pet in Potions was light and without malice, but it appeared that some members of her class from other houses took offence at the amount of 'extra' attention the likes of Slughorn and, most recently, Flitwick were paying her. One girl in particular – her former charms partner, Vicky Frobisher – seemed to have an unidentifiable bee in her bonnet about something. She, along with two of her Gyffindor housemates, Kendra and Pheobe, seemed to be waging some sort of vendetta against Estella ever since that morning.
"Forget about them, 'Stell, they aren't worth it," John nudged Estella's attention away from where she had unconsciously been staring across at the three Gryffindors, watching how they chewed the ear off an uncomfortable looking Ginny. "Frobisher's just jealous 'cause she wasn't asked to head the Charms Club and you turned the offer down."
"Do you think I should have accepted?" Estella worried her lower lip between her teeth and looked at the boy, no, young man, next to her in a silent plea for help. "I mean, I can see how Vicky's got her nose out of joint; but at the same time she just can't appreciate what I have on my plate this year."
"Well face it, she's a Gryffindor, and an inbred pureblood one at that," Reg leaned over his plate and smirked at his housemates, his eyes glinting in mirth. "They aren't exactly known for being rational."
"Besides, I don't know what'd gotten her knickers more twisted… the fact you turned down something she wanted and still didn't get, or the fact that everyone knows you have a special class with Flitwick, and it's more than she can ever hope to do," Elsie pointed out.
"Who'd have thought a mutual appreciation for a subject could drive us apart like that," Estella furrowed her brow in concern. Though she was never particularly close with those outside of her house (or in fact most of the people in her house) she had always valued Victoria's collaboration as a Charms partner. However, with the mix of teenaged hormones and sheer number of things she had going on in her life at the moment, Estella didn't think she could be bothered trying to figure the fickle Gryffindor out. Whilst Ravenclaws worked together to increase their knowledge, Gryffindors had a strange sense of competitiveness that Estella could not quite comprehend. In the wake of so much danger, death and destruction, there were slightly bigger things to worry about.
"I hear Professor Slughorn dished out bottles of Felix Felicis to the best brewer in each class," Reg said, changing the subject and nodding to tell-tale bottles were glinting against the candlelight as the lucky student shared their coop with their peers. "Look, even Potter's got one!"
Estella's mouth fell open in surprise. Surely Slughorn had not resorted to hollow favouritism! As soon as she thought that, Estella felt immediately guilty for not even stopping to consider if Harry had actually performed well enough to warrant reward. No matter how curious she was, however, she knew that she couldn't very well ask Harry himself without probably offending him with her doubts. The fact that they did not part in the best of ways that morning kept her at bay too… perhaps they needed a break from each other after having just spent an entire summer in close quarters.
Suddenly not feeling as though she could stomach her dessert of vanilla ice cream with choc mint fudge, Estella pushed her bowl aside and excused herself from the Ravenclaw table. Without a teacher to open the available Floo for her, she could not retreat to her special Keep, but that suited her fine since the time spent with the Headmaster the night before had not left her with much opportunity to get settled.
Out of almost unconscious habit, Estella swept past the Slytherin table on her way out, Draco's lightning fast reflexes catching her by the wrist and stopping her in her tracks.
"How was your day?" Draco asked tonelessly, the cool level intensity of his eyes telling Estella all she needed to know.
'He wants to know why I didn't go to Ancient Runes,' she acknowledged to herself. She did not question the blonde Slytherin's innate ability to keep track of her movements. Ancient Runes, as an elective, was attended by all the enrolled fourth years. One of the Slytherins had undoubtedly alerted Draco of her absence and though her extra classes for 'Charms' were not readily concealed, the details therein were not widely disclosed. Clearing her throat, Estella let her eyes travel meaningfully from the blonde before her and the bespectacled Gryffindor in the distance. "Am I right in hearing that Harry won the luck potion in your class?"
Draco scowled unbecomingly and tightened his grip on his spoon. "He got lucky with his potion… almost too lucky, if you catch my meaning!"
"You think he drank some Felix without anyone seeing?" Estella raised a brow. "As much as you can't believe that even Harry can get results in potions, I hate to tell you this, but Professor Slughorn always seals his cauldrons against thievery."
"You would know, I suppose," said Draco, looking slightly put out at not being quite knowledgeable when it came to the enigma before him.
"Yes, well, it was pleasant chatting with you, Dray, but I did leave the table early for a reason," said Estella, pulling away from the Slytherin's sticky fingers.
"My apologies," said Draco, smiling suavely. "Far be it for me to keep a Raven from her books!"
"Good night, Draco," Estella shook her head at the boy's transparent antics and left the Great Hall without a backwards glance. Had she turned back to look at the Head Table, she would have noticed a pair of black eyes following her every move. Likewise, at the Gryffindor table, a green-eyed upperclassman looked about ready to murder the blonde in her wake. Even though she hadn't physically witnessed it, Estella knew enough to expect that kind of reaction. Had she been so inclined, she probably could have done something to address the situation; but as it was, she had a report to prepare.
Her first Order meeting was less than a week away.
End Chapter
Next Chapter: First Meetings, in which Estella attends her first Order meeting, Sirius and Estella get up to mischief at the Ministry, and Estella conquers a fear for a friend...
Due: on a weekend, two to three weeks from now, I really can't be too sure.
A/N: The review replies for Chapter 11 Reviews are typed up, but can't be sent out until later tonight/ sometime tomorrow as the person whose computer I am using just got home and needs his computer back (spoil sport).
