Updated Wednesday 26th April 2006 (Tuesday was ANZAC Day, and I couldn't get net access…)

Disclaimer: Still no money in my bank account…

A/N: Sorry guys, I thought this chapter detailed Estella's birthday, but I was mistaken. It's definitely coming in Chapter 17: Halloween Tricks and Birthday Treats (or is that Halloween Treats and Birthday Tricks? Decisions, decisions…)

Chapter Sixteen: Second Chances

A week passed. Dolores Umbridge had successfully lobbied the Ministry to grant Severus temporary guardianship of Estella until such time that Sirius would present himself for 'psychological assessment'. With Dumbledore yet to oversee a safe manner by which this could be done, Estella had no choice but to go along with the Ministry's ruling. It was just as well that the headmaster had been able to assure both father and daughter that the assigning of Severus as her legal guardian did little to change anything during the school term. She still had the means to sneak off to Order meetings once a fortnight, stayed in the dormitory with her housemates, and had plans to spend her Christmas with her whole family.

Though exams were still a good half a year away, Estella's timetable was busy. With her research with Benson, her Order meetings and now her twice-weekly tutorials with her uncle, the common room in the Ravenclaw Tower became a most unfamiliar place. Thankfully, all of her friends were equally busy in their respective pursuits: Reg and John with their Quidditch, and Elsie was officially 'going steady' with her Hufflepuff beau. But, like anything, just as Estella was becoming comfortable with her life and becoming accustomed to the routine, something just had to come along and shake it all up…

"Uncle Sev! I found a very illuminating book on Deflective Curses in the Restricted Section today, I was wondering if we could-" Estella let herself into her uncle's quarters, her nose buried in a book as she spoke. Lowering the book mid-sentence, she looked up and stopped short when she saw just who was in her uncle's quarters. Tucking the book under her arm slowly, she folded her arms across her chest defensively, her wand hand not far from it's mark. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, don't you see, Estella?" The smooth, sophisticated voice leered at her. "With your uncle once again your guardian, I am one step closer to achieving my goal… and you know what it is, don't you, else you would have seen fit to draw your wand."

"Is the Dark Lord in the habit of collecting such deluded followers?" Estella leant back against the wall languidly, her casual exterior belying the terror within. The familiarity of her uncle's quarters may have given her some bravado, but it had not made her dim. "Just because my uncle is my guardian again, it doesn't mean he will agree to your terms."

"You're sure of that?" said Lucius Malfoy, leaning forward in the chair her uncle liked to favour. "The Dark Lord-"

"-won't do anything to ensure you get what you want." Estella finished for him, a knowing glint in her eye. "You are already indebted to him for sparing my life; and I owe you no debt of gratitude for that since it was yourself who endangered my life to begin with by taking me to your twisted little reunion as some sacrificial party favour. That was some gamble, by the way… your plans would have been ruined had I not gotten away and your precious master had finished me off!"

Lucius' face hardened and he rose from his chair. "It was a price I was willing to pay for our Master. It would have been unfortunate to see the blood oath between our two families unfulfilled, but there are still lesser purebloods that would eagerly overlook certain ambiguities in my son's lineage in exchange for a stake in the Malfoy legacy."

"Well why don't you go spend your precious time fielding their offers, if they are indeed tumbling out of your fireplace like soot in a blocked chimney," said Estella impishly. "Or is it an occupational hazard of Death Eaters to fight battles they cannot win?"

Lucius drew his wand and scowled in rage when the curse he shot at her fizzled and died as though he'd been using a damaged wand. Estella tilted her head to the side and wagged a finger at the man. Had the enraged Slytherin not been so caught up in his indignation, he might have noticed that the girl's hand was trembling.

"Tsk, tsk," she said, it taking every fibre of her being to stay in the room and not run from it, screaming. As horrifying as the present company was, there was a perverse pleasure to be found in baiting a defenceless Lucius Malfoy. "Did you not read the minutes of the last Governor's meeting? It appears that in the wake of certain students being taken from the school against their will, the school wards have been amended. You can't touch me while I am within these walls."

"While you are within these walls," mirrored Lucius darkly, the threat clear. "I will get what I want, one way or another. Resistance is futile!"

"Yeah, yeah, you just keep telling yourself that." Estella smirked, pulling her wand from its holster and toying with it in her hands. "It must really frustrate you to be unable to do what I am so sure you want to do right now, hmm?"

Lucius took a menacing step forward and brandished the handle of his cane at her. He didn't come any closer because he could already feel the prickling of magic that was compelling him to back off. "You are only making things worse for yourself! I will not forget this insubordination!" he warned.

Ever since Lucius' last visit (not that he remembered it, of course) Dumbledore had received permission from the Governors to intensify the wards within the school. A student could not be spelled upon without their prior knowledge and consent, likewise a Portkey in a student's possession would not activate unless all in contact with it were clear on its function. Unfortunately, such intensive measures could only be applied to either a small selection of rooms or an equally minority number of students at any one time; which is why the wards had not reflected this defence in the past.

That only a exclusive number of students could be protected by this ward at any one time made it a rather controversial and difficult motion to be approved by the Governors who, in the interests of fairness, did not want to be seen valuing the safety of one student more than another. In the end, there was sufficient evidence to support why several intended students required such blanketing protection whilst within the school wards, and the motion was passed. Asides from Harry and Estella, those protected by the ward were not made aware of that fact, but Lucius did not know that. The Governor's meeting had convened whilst he had been recovering from the spells Dumbledore had cast on him during his forgotten visit to the school.

Hearing sounds from the other side of Severus' office door, Lucius straightened and smiled victoriously. "I am sure when your uncle finds out about your cheek he will see fit to deliver an appropriate punishment."

Estella was unperturbed. "Oh, really?" she asked, inspecting her nails. "I would rather have thought he would be more affronted by the arrival of an uninvited guest."

"What makes you think my presence here was unexpected?" Lucius let the question hang when the office door opened.

"What are you doing here?" Severus' eyes narrowed, the surprised man unknowingly repeating his niece's earlier words as he entered the room from his office and spotted the unlikely pair.

From behind her uncle, Estella relaxed and smirked. "See, told you so."


"I can't believe you got a detention with my uncle, Harry!" Estella admonished the Boy-Who-Lived as they spent some rare time together at the Gryffindor table; both having arrived early for the afternoon meal. "I mean, it doesn't surprise me because I know what he's like, but really, Harry, must you make it so easy for him?"

"Oh, well excuse me if I've had a little stress on my mind!" Harry snapped tiredly, rubbing at his forehead in frustration. "Bloody Occlumency for one… and don't get me started on Umbridge-"

Clicking her tongue in disapproval about Harry's lack of progress in his Occlumency lessons – she had leant him the book that had helped her, but he did not take the time to read it clearly – she shook her head. "Harry, I've already told you a thousand times, this thing with Padfoot won't stop you from coming home for Christmas! Don't worry about it! Or is it something else bothering you?"

Harry, Estella knew, had been charged with the task of viewing select memories with Dumbledore and translating a bit of Parseltongue. She did not know precisely what the memories were about, or who they were from, but they evidently centred on a Parselmouth, Estella didn't really have to guess what Harry was seeing.

"It's just so damn frustrating!" Harry removed his hand from his head and slammed it down onto the table. "We're learning stuff-all in Defence, Voldemort's killing people left, right and centre, and ever since Umbridge got the power to issue detentions she's had her claws into me every chance she's got!"

"My uncle is just as frustrated, believe me!" Estella sighed, knowing it would be a cold day in hell before any of the Gryffindors in her life would ever truly understand her uncle. "I'll talk to him if you like, though, see if he may revoke the detention-"

"No!" Harry cut her off, looking alarmed. "That'll not go down well at all!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it, then?" Estelle snapped back, equally stretched by the recent events. "I don't want to spend what little time we get together at each other's throats! It's not worth it."

"You're right," said Harry miserably. "I'm sorry. Let's start over… hey Estella, long time no see!"

Estella laughed at the exaggerated cheer on Harry's face, and they began talking about less strenuous topics. Soon enough, the Evening Prophet arrived, and the pair discarded their carefree conversation to once again broach the more serious issues. Hunched over the thick yellowing parchment, they expressed equal indignation at the latest news.

"Stan Shunpike, a Death Eater?" said Harry. 'No way!'

"He might have been put under the Imperius Curse," said Estella reasonably, reading on. "Doesn't look like it, though… looks like he was just trying to make out he knew more than he did and the Ministry pounced on him because they have to be seen doing something."

"Oh, like going after your dad isn't enough?" grimaced Harry.

"Nah, they've already crucified him in front of his peers and 'taken us away' from him so it's not newsworthy anymore." Estella's voice was laced with bitter sarcasm. That the Ministry copped no flak whatsoever for being the ones who put her father in the position to allegedly 'go crazy' in the first place was something she could not understand. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair, which was coming loose in its pony tail. "The world's gone crazy, I tell you! People are terrified – you know the Patil twins' parents want them to go home? Almost half the Hufflepuff first-years have already been withdrawn, and no one's seen Hannah Abbott since news got out about her mother…" – she shuddered – "…I wonder if this was what it was like the first time…"

"Harry! Estella! Just the pair I was hoping to see!" Professor Slughorn let his presence be known by coming up behind the engrossed pair and clapping a hand on each of their shoulders, causing them both to startle. "I was hoping to catch you both before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars. I've got McLaggen coming, and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin – I don't know whether you know her? Estella, you might - her family owns a large chain of apothecaries…"

Estella nodded slowly, cringing inwardly at how much her old Potions tutor had changed since he began teaching entire classes again. One-on-one, he was decidedly much more diluted.

"I can't come, Professor," said Harry, a small sense of irony detected in his tone. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."

Beside him, Estella snorted, coughing loudly to cover the laughter that threatened to break through. Feeling the Potion Master's eyes on her, she sighed dramatically.

"I'm afraid I'm with Harry. I got a detention too…"

"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. 'Dear, dear, I was counting on you! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation, I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!'

He bustled away out of the Hall.

"I think I liked my chances better when you were going to speak with him," said Harry burying his face in his hands the moment Slughorn was out of earshot.

"I can still talk to him if you'd rather have supper with the Slug Club," Estella smirked.

"Oh yeah, and what's this about you having a detention?" Harry cocked his head at her and gave her an expectant look.

"Oh, I figured that if you didn't want to get out of your detention with my uncle, I'd talk him into giving me one too." Estella grinned.

"You're crazy, you know that, don't you?" said Harry, though inwardly he was warmed by the gesture.


By the end of the evening, Estella had begun to regret ever having talked her uncle into having her serve detention with Harry. The idea that he might actually go easy on them both as opposed to actually punish Estella for no reason was quickly dispelled when she saw the pile of Flobberworms they had to sort – without protective gloves. Afterwards, Estella was certain that she'd have the smell of rotted flesh underneath her nails for weeks, and she had taken great joy in flicking the discarded entrails into corners of the room her Uncle was not sure to look anytime soon. It baffled her why he was even having them handle potion ingredients at all now that he was their Defence teacher, but after an earlier question of hers had been rewarded with an extra bucket of ingredients to sort through, she decided to keep her mouth shut… for now.

"That was positively disgusting!" Harry yawned and scrubbed at his hands under the sink for the millionth time that evening. Estella's uncle had dismissed them ten minutes earlier, but they were still clearing away the evidence of their labour.

Noticing Harry rub at a mark on his hand, Estella frowned. Halting his hand gingerly, she gasped when she saw an angry, gaping wound. At some point in the past couple of days, someone had forced Harry to write with a cursed quill, and the slightly acidic Flobberworm blood had irritated the wound to the point that it was now weeping dangerously.

"Harry!" she admonished. "What on earth happened to your hand? You should have said something! He would have let you wear gloves!" – grabbing his wrist, she ignored the running tap and pulled Harry towards the door that led directly into her uncle's quarters. Because Severus was no longer the only resident Potions Master, the detention had taken place in the lab off his private office, as opposed to the Potions classroom.

"No! Wait, it's all right, I just need to run it under water-" said Harry, fighting to wrench his wrist out of Estella's grip, lest he allow himself to be pulled into uncharted territory.

"Harry, if you're worried about my uncle, he'll be doing his evening rounds in the Slytherin dorms for at least another half-hour… and since it appears as though you've neglected to consult Madam Pomfrey on this matter I'm going to assume that you want it kept under wraps, and this is the only way of doing so."

"Fine!" said Harry reluctantly, only conceding defeat because the puss oozing from the angry red wound was starting to concern him – not to mention it hurt like hell.

Whatever Harry had in mind for his most loathed teacher's private quarters, a cosy lounge room with a homely lived-in feel was not it. Gratefully accepting a seat in a big oversized armchair by the fire, Harry ogled at the room whilst Estella rummaged through a supplies cupboard as though she owned the place. 'Well,' he told himself; 'she did live here for the better part of a decade.'

All around him, shelves groaned with the weight of ancient tomes, and the mantle directly in front of him was alive with dozens of framed photographs, the animated figures therein all fighting for his attention. Recognising Estella immediately, he smirked at the images detailing her childhood and slowly came to terms with the idea of Snape being a family man.

On the far end of the room, a door stood ajar, and in the dim light of the fire, Harry could make out the shape of a bed. Realising once more that he was in the private quarters of a man who hated him, Harry suddenly became uncomfortable. Every sound thereafter, Harry was certain signalled the return of the illusive Slytherin, and his insides churned at the confrontation his inevitable arrival would bring. Begging Estella to hurry up, he sat rigid in the chair, subconsciously thinking that if he kept still enough he would disappear into the soft embrace of the chair and not be seen by anyone that should happen to walk in on him.

"Would you rather wait in my room?" asked Estella, peering over the edge of the cupboard door to look at her guest, her head nodding towards the slightly open door he had been looking at earlier. "Not that you have anything to be concerned about at all, mind. It'd be me he'd be mad at, if at anyone, which I doubt."

"If it's all the same to you, I will wait here," said Harry quietly, though he was more than a little curious to see what Estella's bedroom had been like growing up. "I don't think it will go down well if your uncle came in to find us both in your bedroom."

"Suit yourself," Estella shrugged and resumed her search of her uncle's first aid supplies. "Why don't you tell me how you came to substitute your own blood for ink while I look?"

No sooner had Harry explained about Umbridge's unique brand of punishment had Estella found all the ingredients she was after. Pulling out the jar of pickled Murtlap tentacles, she summoned a bowl and strainer and set them down heavily on the small table beside Harry. Then, sitting on the arm of the closest couch, she proceeded to methodically prepare the solution; her jerky movements and determined expression the only sign of her anger.

"Here," she said anxiously, pushing the small bowl of yellow liquid towards him, "soak your hand in that, it should help."

Harry placed his weeping, aching hand into the bowl, the taut lines around his face visibly relaxing as he found relief.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, momentarily forgetting just where he was lest he lose focus on the soothing effect the liquid was having on his hand.

"I think you should complain about this," said Estella in a low voice. "High Inquisitor or not, it's unacceptable!"

"No," said Harry flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew-"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry dully. They needn't speak of how Sirius would react. "And how long do you reckon it'd take for Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman," said Estella in a small voice as she wiped her hands on her robes absently. "Awful… we've got to do something about her… and I don't mean setting Dad on her either because if he'd be half as mad as I am right now it'd only end him up back in Azkaban!"

"What do you suppose we do?" said Harry exasperatedly. "We can't very well run her out of the school…"

"I don't know, but maybe my uncle will have a suggestion," said Estella. "You may not think it was much, Harry, but what Umbridge did to you just highlights how much we really ought to be learning ways to defend ourselves. I bet you didn't even know that there was a spell to prevent a cursed quill from working!"

"Oh, like Umbridge would have liked that if I countered her punishment!" said Harry. "Besides, isn't there supposed to be a Hogwarts ward protecting us now?"

"Only from magic you do not consent to being used on you," said Estella exasperatedly. "By picking up the bloody quill and proceeding to write on the parchment, knowing full well what it would do to your hand after the first instant, you were giving your implied consent. Unfortunately, the school doesn't appear to recognise the coercions of environment; instead believing that you would have put down the quill if you didn't want to mutilate yourself."

"If only it were that easy," scowled Harry, "but what can I expect from an inanimate object?"

"Careful what you say, my friend. These walls have ears!" said Estella, in mock-chastisement. Stooping over the boy's arm, she eased his hand out of the bowl to inspect the scar that was now beginning to reveal itself. "What's it mean? 'I will not tell lies?"

Harry's hand flinched in her grip and she lowered it back into the solution gently. Sighing, he began to explain.

"Well, you know how Umbridge is convinced that Padfoot's a loon for letting Remus live with us and that Azkaban has had a lasting effect on his abilities to function in society and all that rot?"

"How could I not?" Estella raised a brow and nodded impatiently for him to go on.

"Well she's been trying to get me to make a statement that will back up that theory," said Harry with a dark look on his face. "Not to mention she wants to use me to discredit Dumbledore as well – I think she feels as though it will be more believable, coming from 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'."

"Let me guess, you refused to say anything except how great Dad is, right?" said Estella. Harry nodded, and Estella's ears went red. "So you tell the truth and not only does she accuse you of lying, but she forces you to mutilate yourself? Good heavens, Harry, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it won't help!" said Harry.

"I know that," said Estella darkly, a smug look on her face. "But now we know we can ensure that she pays…"

"We?" said Harry warily.

"Well I'm going to have to account for the missing Murtlap tentacles somehow, aren't I?" said Estella. "Besides, my uncle is the best Slytherin there is. What better person to turn to for advice when you want to exact revenge on someone you don't even want to know they're being singled out?"

"Yes, well," said Harry, making to stand. "Tell your uncle what you want, but don't mind me if I choose not to be a part of it."

"By all means, Mr Potter, do not deprive yourself on my account," Severus leered from the door way, his jaw set in a hard line as he looked from the Boy-He-Loathed to his niece in silent question.

"Uncle Sev, you'd want to take a look at this!" Estella stood and gestured towards Harry's hand.

"It may have escaped your memory, Estella, but I do happen to have better things to do than appraise the results of Mr Potter's clumsiness!" Severus' tone was cold and biting as he crossed the room to inspect what had been taken from his cupboard. He had, of course, assumed that Harry had merely cut himself during detention.

"Last time I checked, Uncle Severus," said Estella, adopting her uncle's full first name much like a disgruntled parent would their child's. "The forced use of a cursed quill does not amount to clumsiness!"

Severus spun around and narrowed his eyes at his niece. Making his way towards them in quick, gliding strides, he tugged at the sleeve of Harry's injured hand, effectively pulling it out of the water like a puppeteer with strings.

"Explain." he said pointedly, making no move to inspect the injury closely, nor come into physical contact with the boy; much to Estella's amusement.

"He's not lying," said Estella firmly once Harry had finished telling his story. Severus gave the pair a scrutinising look and nodded reluctantly.

"Under no circumstances will you disclose this information to anyone," said Severus, emphasising the word 'anyone' to be inclusive of one easily angered and fiercely protective Animagus. When both teenagers nodded slowly, he rounded the small table in front of the hearth and assumed his rightful chair by the flickering flames. "Now," he said, his fingers forming a steeple under his chin. "Enlighten me as to what you now intend to do about it."


"An army?" Hermione was incredulous.

"Brilliant!" said Ron, beaming slightly despite the increasing confusion on his face. "Uh… just what…"

"I knew we should have told my friends first!" Estella rolled her eyes, beckoning for Harry to explain.

"Well, you know how useless Defence Against the Dark Arts is at the moment, right? And you know how important it is to learn how to defend ourselves for real, right?" Harry waited for their nods before continuing. "And you know how the Ministry's greatest fear is that the poor defenceless children might band together and foolishly throw themselves into the frontline?"

"So you want to build an army of children to foolishly throw themselves into the frontline?" Ron frowned.

"No!" Hermione caught on. "You want to start a group that will ensure that when we have no choice but to fight, we won't be as helpless as the Ministry is trying to make us! Right?"

"Something like that," said Estella. "Though Uncle Sev kinda stressed the importance of enforcing the proper Defence curriculum-"

"Wait, Snape?" Ron spluttered, gaping at Harry and Estella. "Snape is in on this? No offence, but are you sure it's not just some trap he's concocted with Umbridge to get us all expelled?"

Estella growled, causing Ron's face to lose all colour. "Oh," he said quickly. "Yeah, uh, right… so… an army, eh?"

"We're gonna spread word amongst the fourth years and above and have get everyone together in Hogsmeade on Saturday." Harry explained. "We don't want Umbridge catching on any sooner than she has to."

"Huh? But didn't we just have a Hogsmeade weekend?" Ron was baffled. "We never get another so soon!"

"Dumbledore issued the notice this morning at breakfast," said Hermione in a matter-of-fact tone. "Honestly, Ron, if you didn't shovel so much food in your mouth you might have been able to pay attention! We're getting another visit because the other one was cut short."


"Hey, Harry, I'm supposed to give you this."

Estella was out of breath as she'd just run down the hill to catch up with Harry. It had been her turn to attend the Order meeting the night before, and Dumbledore had given her a small scroll of parchment to pass on to Harry.

"Thanks, Estella… it's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry told the others, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents before refolding it carefully and tucking it into a pocket of his cloak. Rubbing warmth back into his hands, he straightened and faced the others. "Right, ready to get this show on the road?" he asked.

Well over 25 students had expressed an interest in forming a special 'homework' group to study Defence, and they were all set to meet a little before lunch. Following from the events of the last Hogsmeade weekend, both John and Elsie's parents had revoked their respective children's Hogsmeade privileges. Reg, whose parents were equally concerned, had been collected from the school half an hour earlier, set to be accompanied everywhere he went in the village by his older brother. Kicking at loose bits of floor tiles with her boots, Estella trailed behind the others as they traversed the Entrance Hall, scowling at her feet and shoving her hands into her pockets moodily. It wasn't that she didn't like the idea of spending the day with Harry – because in fact with their plans being the way they were, she'd have had to anyway – it just frustrated her to have yet another thing that kept her away from her friends.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

'What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?' demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. 'Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?'

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Everyone wrapped their scarves over their lower face; only to have the exposed part feeling both raw and numb within minutes. The road from the carriages to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once the image of a nice warm common room crossed their minds, and arriving in the main street to find even more stores boarded up and deserted it was any wonder that they didn't just turn on their heels and leave. In fact, Estella suspected that if it weren't for the scheduled meeting in twenty minutes time, they would have indeed turned back.

Ron pointed with a thickly gloved hand towards Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and the others staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God," shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon. The mob will know where to find us at school."

"Harry, m'boy!" said a booming voice from behind them.

"Oh, no," muttered Harry. The four of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystallised pineapple and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

"Harry, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest. "It won't do, m'boy, I'm determined to have you! Miss Granger loves them, don't you?"

"Yes," said Hermione helplessly, "they're really-"

"So why don't you come along, Harry?" demanded Slughorn.

"Well I've had Quidditch practice, Professor," said Harry, earning him a sidelong look from Estella, who knew only too well that he had indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent him a little violet-ribboned invitation. Estella too, had been invited on more than one occasion, but had been far too preoccupied with her uncle and Order responsibilities to attend. Estella suspected that Slughorn had tried to talk her uncle into freeing up some of her time to attend and it hadn't gone down too well because he seemed to go to lengths to avoid her completely now.

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!" said Slughorn to Harry. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather… and Estella…" – Estella cringed – "I know your uncle says that you have a lot of study, but if a seventh year Ravenclaw can find the time-"

"We can't, Professor, We've got – er – an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening." said Harry apologetically after exchanging a look with Estella. "All that Ministry business with Sirius is rather time consuming…"

"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah, well… you can't evade me for ever!"

"Want to bet?" Estella muttered under her breath to the man's back as he turned and waddled out of the shop.

"I can't believe you've wriggled out of another one," said Hermione, shaking her head. "They're not that bad, you know… they've even quite fun sometimes…" But then she caught sight of Ron's expression. "Oh, look – they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills – those would last hours!"

Traipsing around the store until sufficient feeling had returned into their near-frozen limbs, the small group finalised their purchases and made to leave for the meeting they had arranged with their classmates. On her way out the door, Estella's eyes lingered on the kindly old lady behind the counter as a familiar line caught her ear.

"Oh, my husband and I have been here longer since before the Cannons started their dry spell…"

Whipping her head around as the words sunk in and she remembered just where she had heard something similar before, she halted in the doorway and stared at the woman, wide-eyed. As though drawn to her reaction, the old lady turned her head towards her and winked. Winked.

"Well I'll be!" Estella muttered, inclining her head slightly before turning on her heel and jogging along to catch up with the others.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh – no," said Hermione, coming out of a reverie, "no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit… you know… dodgy… but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

Knowing there would be no point to highlight the flaws in that assumption when everyone was probably already waiting for them at that venue, Estella said nothing. They walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where they were not surprised to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan mourning the boarded up windows, past the post office, from which the owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.

"Uh, I'll catch up," said Estella, mentally slapping her head. The last time they had been in Hogsmeade, she had gone to the launch of the Muggle Disco and Remus had been there – what if he was there again now? Muttering an excuse to that effect, she excused herself hurriedly and took off in the direction from whence they came. She had gotten no further than the Three Broomsticks when she happened upon a sight she'd not quite expected.

A man and a woman stood a little ahead of her, standing out from the slight splattering of people in the street because they seemed to be the only two not in any particular hurry. The man was very tall and thin; squinting through water-logged brows, Estella recognising him as the barman who worked in the Hog's Head. As she drew closer, the barmen drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the short woman to fumble with something in her arms. She was barely feet from her when Estella realised that the woman before her was not actually a woman at all, but rather a man dressed as one.

"Mundungus!"

The squat, bandy-legged man with long straggly ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"Oh, 'ello, 'Stella," said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya." And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Estella, watching Mundungus grabbing an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus. "Gimme that!"

Estella had stooped down and picked up something silver. "Hang on," Estella said slowly. "This looks familiar-"

"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Estella's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you – OUCH!"

In a adrenalin-fuelled display of strength, Estella had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, she pulled out her wand.

"You took this from my grandparents' house!" said Estella, who was almost nose-to-nose with Mundungus and was breathing in an unpleasant smell of old tobacco and spirits. "That had the Black family crest on it."

"I – no – what -?" spluttered Mundungus, who was turning slowly purple.

"What did you do, sneak back in after a meeting and strip the place?" snarled Estella.

"I – no – you're mistaken –"

"Oh, am I?" Estella grinned maliciously. "We'll see about that! If it's all above board there's no problem with me taking a look!"

There was a bang and Estella felt her hands fly off Mundungus's throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized the fallen case, then – CRACK – he Disapparated.

Estella swore at the top of her voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone.

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING -!"

"There's no point, Estella."

Tonks had appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair wet with sleet. "Mundungus will probably be in London by now. There's no point yelling."

"He's cased the house! Nicked our stuff!"

"Yes, but still," said Tonks, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this piece of information, "you should get out of the cold."

Scowling at her cousin's apparent nonchalance, Estella spun on her heel and stormed off towards the Hogs Head in a huff. The Hogs Head was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised of one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was now lit instead with stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as Estella stepped on to it she realised that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

The barman she had seen outside moments earlier sidled towards her out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and rather reminiscent of another old man she knew.

"What?" he grunted.

"A Butterbeer, please," said Estella, gritting out the last word reluctantly as she wanted nothing more at that moment to question the man about what he was doing with Mundungus and a suitcase full of her family's belongings.

Seemingly unaware of his customer's ire, the man reached beneath the counter and pulled up a very dusty, very dirty bottle, which he slammed on the bar.

"Two Sickles," he said.

Estella quickly passed over the silver. The barman gave Estella an appraising look – as though trying to place her. Then he turned away and deposited her money in an ancient wooden till whose draw slid open automatically to receive it. Nodding her thanks and grabbing her bottle with her non-wand hand, she turned to scour the bar for her friends. Sure enough, the sight of over twenty Hogwarts students swarmed around the furthest table from the bar was rather conspicuous. Shaking her head, Estella inched her way towards the small crowd.

"You do realise we're not exactly incognito, don't you?" Estella said by way of greeting, falling into the chair Harry had saved for her and flipping the cap off her bottle on the edge of the table, raising the bottle to her lips and taking a long draught before anyone could respond.

"What's the matter with you?" A snooty looking fifth year Estella didn't know sneered at her.

Casting her eyes over to Harry, Estella slammed her bottle down irritably and surveyed the room suspiciously for any sign of a recently vacated table. It was very likely that Mundungus had to have come into the Hogs Head in order to draw its bartender outside.

"I don't suppose any of you are observant enough to have noticed if a guy dressed in a woman's robe was by here, hmm?" she asked in a condescending tone. When over twenty pairs of eyes narrowed at her in contempt, she culled back her anger and sighed. "Sorry, had a run in with a bag of Dung outside and I think I'll have the stink in my robes for weeks… amongst other things…" she scowled again and exchanged a look with Harry that plainly stated that they would be talking later.

"Right, then," said Harry, nodding slightly to Estella and clearing his throat. "Now that we're all here-" Estella cut him off with a strange noise suspiciously like the annoying throat-clearing sounds the Hogwarts High Inquisitor would frequently make during her class inspections. Harry inhaled sharply and corrected himself. "Oh, right," he said. "Now that all of us with Hogsmeade privileges are present and accounted for…" – he paused to look for Estella's nod of approval before continuing – "shall we begin with a list of objectives?"


The meeting continued in much the same way, with many students cutting in at odd intervals, keen to learn about Harry's past exploits.

"Honestly," said Estella, smirking slightly when yet another person began questioning Harry about his Patronus. "I really don't think this particular line of questioning was what my uncle had in mind."

Harry's eyes lit up and he grinned at her, the two sharing a private joke. The irony that it had been more or less Severus Snape who had given them the idea of starting such a group, only to have said group fawn and covet the Boy-Who-Lived in a way Severus Snape took great pains to reverse whenever he had the 'big-headed celebrity' in his class was not lost to them.

"Not a word," he said to her warningly before pulling the group's attention back to the matters at hand.

Later, as Estella was signing the register and felt a tingle of magic pass through her, she knew immediately that the parchment had been Spelled. Exchanging a knowing glance with Hermione, she was infinitely glad that she had handed the reigns over to the older girl in regards to dealing with the logistical side of organising the meetings. It had been discussed earlier at length and subsequently decided that as the niece of the suppressed Defence teacher, she had to keep a low profile. If ever Umbridge caught wind of the club's existence, Estella would likely be the first she'd suspect; and not only did Estella not wish to get expelled, but she didn't want to do anything that would implicate her uncle and place his guardianship over her at risk. Asides from her father and uncle, her only other blood relatives were her father's cousins and of the three one was in Azkaban, another had married a Muggle and the third, though not technically bound to her by blood, would stand a far greater chance of getting custody of her because no one knew the family secret. Shuddering slightly, it occurred to Estella that the only obstacle now standing in the way of Lucius Malfoy getting what he wanted was her uncle; and so it suddenly made sense why her uncle was humouring the man at all.

"Hey, Estella!" Harry waved his hand in front of her face, causing her eyelids to flutter in confusion and head turn to look at him. He leant back and drained the last drops from his bottle. "Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?"

Confused, Estella looked around at the now empty table.

'I have GOT to stop doing that!' she scolded herself, unable to believe she'd managed to blank out again. Doing it at Order meetings was bad enough, but here in Hogsmeade? In the Hogs Head, of all places? In today's age it was almost suicide to be so unguarded.

Looking again to Harry, who was now sporting an amused look on his face, Estella scowled and nodded, her ire at Mundungus returning as she made a mental note to fill Harry in on the walk back to the school. In all, it had not been a very fun trip, and the weather was certainly not helping matters. Drawing her cloak around herself the moment they stepped out of the seedy bar, Estella pulled on her gloves and rearranged her scarf. They – Harry, his friends and herself – were halfway down the High Street, trailing slightly behind a girl called Katie Bell and another Gryffindor Estella did not know when she realised that she had meant to slip back to Honeydukes before they closed to try and corner the old lady who worked there. Turning her head over her shoulder, she looked back down the way they'd came and quickly dismissed the idea as she saw the amount of fog and sleet blowing in the wind. Even if she'd snuck back to the school via the Honeydukes tunnel, she wasn't about to venture out alone; neither was she about to declare the tunnel's existence to any student around them on the path who'd question how they got back to school.

Harry and Estella walked ahead of the main group so that they could talk quietly amongst themselves. It was difficult with the blustering wind, and they practically had to talk directly into each other's ears as they walked. To an outsider, it probably looked quite a sight.

"Are you sure?" was all Harry could say when Estella told him about what she'd seen fall out of Mundungus' suitcase. "Y'know, maybe your Dad gave them to him. Surely you remember how much he hated those goblets."

"Yeah, I know…" Estella bit her lower lip. Truth be told, she hadn't considered that. "But Dad hates Grimmauld Place in general. Doesn't mean he's going to stick to his word about razing it to the ground! Besides, if Dad had given the stuff to 'Dung, don't you think he'd have told me as such when I had him by the neck?"

"Perhaps he didn't want to get your Dad in hot water… you reacted pretty badly, right?" said Harry, his infernal Gryffindor mentality coercing him to try and see the good in everybody (well, everybody except Slytherins, of course…). "Maybe he thought you were attached to the stuff and would be mad at your Dad if you found out-"

"Harry, now you're just talking nonsense." Estella cut him off, a small smile playing at her lips. "If that was his concern, he'd have assured me he was taking them straight back and he wouldn't have run off like he was guilty of something."

"Fine," said Harry. "So what do we tell Padfoot? You wanna come with to the next meeting to see it all play out?"

"Wouldn't miss it!" said Estella, smirking now as they walked on.

It was at this point that Estella became aware that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to her on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Estella squinted at their indistinct figures and nudged Harry. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand.

'It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!' they heard Katie say.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, causing Estella to slip and lose her footing. Just as Harry stuck out an arm to stop her from falling, Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground. At once, Katie rose into the air gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she were about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie… her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. By this time, Estella and Harry had stopped level with Leanne and the others behind them had just caught up. Before anyone else could question what was going on, Katie was six feet above the ground and let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too, and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Harry, Estella, Ron and Hermione rushed forwards to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead, they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognise any of them.

Estella looked around; the landscape seemed deserted. Whipping out her wand, she pointed it at the sky and sent a continuous stream of bright red sparks into the air. "Hopefully they'll see that!" she said, referring to either a teacher at the school, or an Auror in the village.

Sure enough, Tonks and her Ministry-assigned partner, a tall lanky wizard who went by Jones, Apparated at their side, heeding their call. Thankfully they were not yet within the Hogwarts boundaries. While Jones endeavoured to stabilise Katie and levitate her body towards the school, Tonks conjured umbrellas for them all, cast a few weather-repelling charms for good measure, and then moved forward to comfort Leanne.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?" The girl nodded. "Did it just happen all of a sudden, or-?"

"It was when that package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Estella seized his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't touch it!"

She crouched down, ignoring Tonks' movement to hold her back – the clumsy Metamorphagus could not quite reach her without letting go of the girl who was now clinging to her. Getting as close as she dared without coming into contact with the item on the ground, she could make out an ornate opal necklace poking out of the paper. Recognising it immediately, her face hardened.

"I've seen that before," she said, rising to her feet stiffly, her eyes not leaving the Dark object. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." What she didn't care to disclose in present company was that Draco had specifically mentioned the necklace to her when she had confronted him in the street. Though it was highly likely that Draco, given the illusive task Voldemort had asked of him, had been involved in the matters at hand, she didn't want to raise people's suspicions just yet.

"How did Katie get a hold of this?" she heard Tonks ask the girl, Leanne, a notepad and quill in her hand.

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it… oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused, and I didn't realise!" Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her, Leanne?" Estella asked, curious.

"No… she wouldn't tell me… and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn't listen and… and then I tried to grab it from her… and – and – " Leanne let out of wail of despair.

"We'd better get up to school," said Hermione, who had replaced Tonks and now had the taller girl clinging to her, "we'll be able to find out how Katie is. Come on…"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron's gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey," he said.

Tonks looked up from her notepad and gaped at Harry slightly before nodding. "Oh, er, right-o," she said, spiriting her notepad away and holding a hand out. "S'pose I should take that, now…"

Not meaning to sound condescending, Estella flung out her arm to hold Tonks back. "No offence, Tonks, but maybe you should let Harry take it since he's already got it secure," she said. Worried that Tonks would take the comment completely the wrong way, Estella's fears were quelled when she saw relief cross over her cousin's face. Estella supposed that there had been other incidents where the notoriously clumsy Auror had dropped evidence in the past.

Tightening his grip around his scarf and nodding grimly at Tonks' approval, Harry led the way back towards the school. No sooner had they reached the courtyard overlooking the impressive façade of the Entrance Hall doors was Professor McGonagall hurrying down the stone steps to meet them.

"Auror Jones says you all saw what happened to Katie Bell – upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Potter?"

"It's the thing she touched," said Harry.

'Good Lord,' said Professor McGonagall, casting Tonks a reproving look before taking the necklace from Harry. "No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the Entrance Hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

"And could you tell him I'll be by to see him shortly," Estella added, causing the scruffy man to turn and sneer at her. As he turned and shuffled away, his omniscient cat trailing at his side, Estella knew her uncle would get the message. Far be it for the disgruntled squib to not pass on a message bound for the Slytherin Housemaster. Sometimes it paid dividends to have an uncle everyone feared.

At Harry's insistence, both he and Estella were excused from recounting their version of events and directed towards Dumbledore's office. Soundlessly making their way up to the gargoyle seventh floor, Estella made sure no one was loitering around to witness them enter before giving Harry the OK to voice the password. Side by side they rode the spiralling staircase as it ascended towards the office at the top of the tower. The special password Dumbledore had given then was specific to them, and so they knew the old man would be in his office anticipating their arrival.

Sure enough, as they reached the top of the stairs they saw that the office door was already open, giving them an unexpected view of Dumbledore as he sat behind his desk looking unusually tired. Gesturing for them to enter and sit down with his good hand – the other was as black and burned as ever – he smiled reassuringly at them.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said. "I believe you witnessed Katie's accident,"

"Yes, sir. How is she?" Harry was first to answer, his longer legs having reached their destination before Estella, who took her seat next to him a beat later.

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin: there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Severus was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse."

"Where have you been?" asked Estella quickly, her indignation getting the better of her. Where was he indeed if, on one hand there are Order members stealing from each other in one corner and students exposing their classmates to the effects of Dark objects. "Must your absences be so obvious?"

"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, her great-great-great grandfather, raised his head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day, even one of my own blood, girl!"

"Yes, thank you, Phineas," said Dumbledore congenially, moving on in his conversation as though interruptions from his portraits were an everyday occurrence. "Anyway, the St Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, reiterating Estella's line of questioning and disregarding the strong feeling that they both may be pushing their luck - a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus, who hissed softly.

"I would rather not say just now," said Dumbledore, his eyes flicking towards Estella before returning to rest on Harry. Estella, in turn, bristled slightly and gritted her teeth, but said nothing. "However, I shall tell you in due course."

"You will?" said Harry, startled. Seated beside him, Estella relaxed. Unlike the man before them, she at least could trust Harry to tell her anything that was of importance to her.

"Yes, I expect so," said Dumbledore, withdrawing a familiar bag of Lemon Drops from his robes. "Lemon Drop?"

"Sir," said Estella tentatively, casting Harry a sidelong look; the pair politely declining the sour sweet. "I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade."

"Ah, yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has been treating your family heirlooms with light-fingered contempt," said Dumbledore, frowning a little. "Molly has noticed things missing whilst doing her rounds, though your father has assured me that there is nothing of sentimental value in the house. However, now it has been confirmed, rest assured that Mundungus will not be making away with any more of your family's old possessions."

"That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?" said Phineas Nigellus, incensed; and he stalked out of his frame, undoubtedly to visit his portrait in number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Ignoring Harry's 'told-you-so' look, Estella nodded absently at the Headmaster's words and found herself staring longingly at Fawkes' vacant perch.

"Sir, where's Fawkes?" she asked, just about falling from her chair in surprise when the bird appeared on the arm of the chair next to her no sooner than she had said the name.

"I trust that answers your question?" Albus inclined his head, causing his eyes to peer over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. Smiling then at the great bird that was his Familiar, he added; "Ah, Fawkes, as always you have impeccable timing."

When Estella realised that staring at the Headmaster questioningly was not going to give her any answers, she busied herself staring into the fire that was burning in the hearth. Everyone knew that Molly Weasley's main Order objective was to be something of a Den mother, caring for and tidying up after the constant stream of foot traffic that passed through the door of Headquarters. The Weasleys had all but officially moved in now, and the red-headed matriarch had, of course, insisted on doing all the housekeeping herself. Smirking slightly, Estella wondered how the coddling, opinionated woman was feeling about having household items disappear on her watch. Predictable as she was, it was likely that the Weasley mother felt somewhat responsible for the missing items, which would account for the nonchalant way her father was responding to it. As much as he liked to put his foot down when it came to the older woman meddling in his family affairs, he drew the line at being deliberately cruel. Her father being who he was, he'd probably gone to lengths to assure the woman that what had been stolen was unimportant to the family. It was then that Estella realised that she didn't actually know either way – he father was always vague and hardly flattering when talking about his former childhood home. Estella couldn't imagine someone not cherishing at least one thing that was symbolic of their youth. For instance, Estella knew that she'd always have a soft spot for old books and Potions stools because it reminded her of the home she'd made with her uncle. Likewise, she would be beside herself if someone were to try and take away a piece of the home she shared with the rest of her family. An increasing feeling of unease settling in her stomach, Estella grimaced with the realisation that perhaps her father's childhood was an experience not worth preserving.

"'Lo Fawkes." Estella petted the soft plume of the great bird, the magical creature eagerly leaning into her touch. Lost in the sensation of the bird's silky feathers under her fingers, Estella soon forgot about the troubles in her mind, a noted look of relaxation sweeping over her.

Beside them, Harry was watching bird and girl interact with increased curiosity. Clearing his throat, he turned to the headmaster in question.

"Professor," he began, flicking his eyes from the twinkling gaze of the man in question to the other student in the room and back again. "What… what did it mean when… when Fawkes did what he did at the Order meeting?"

"It means that Fawkes has made his choice," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling all-knowingly as his admission snapped Estella's head up in attention.

"What do you mean?" Estella narrowed her eyes at the old man before averting to look at Fawkes for an answer. "What choice?"

"Why, I am surprised you haven't figured it out yet yourself!" said Dumbledore, his lips curling into a smile. "I thought I'd given you all the clues you'd need-"

"Well pardon me if I've been otherwise occupied!" said Estella dryly, prepared to not push the issue. If Dumbledore thought he'd given her all the clues then she'd be damned if she didn't figure it out for herself. Harry, however, had other ideas.

"Excuse me, sir, but figured what out?" asked Harry innocently, not quite in tune with the dynamic between the headmaster and Estella.

"Well," said Dumbledore indulgently, intent on answering the boy's question as though Estella were not in the room. "It seems that Fawkes here has chosen Estella."

Harry looked at the headmaster expectantly, and when the old man made no move to elaborate, he frowned. Estella meanwhile, looked from Fawkes to Dumbledore in silent acceptance and nodded. She was not entirely sure what Fawkes' choice meant, but she knew of the book that would clarify things – an obscure reference having come to mind at the first mention of the word 'chosen'. Whether or not the riddling wizard performed Legilimency, of if she was just particularly easy to read at that point, Estella wasn't sure, but she somehow knew that he knew that she was close to working it all out.

"Chosen?" Harry echoed the Headmaster's words, all but completely oblivious to the silent exchange between the other two occupants of the room.

"I'll show you later," said Estella, her eyes not leaving the Headmaster's. "Professor, I trust you will keep us abridged on Katie's condition?"

"Why yes, of course," said Dumbledore, rising to his feet to show the pair out. "Now, I am sure you both have somewhere you'd like to be-"


"So, are you going to show me, or what?" Harry asked her as soon as they'd passed the gargoyle and started down the empty seventh-floor corridor.

"Not just yet, my uncle is expecting me," said Estella. "You're welcome to come with, if you like-"

"Uh, no, it's all right," said Harry abruptly. "Just… we'll catch up later, OK?"

"Course," said Estella, bidding Harry well as they came up to the stairwell and parted ways.

Severus, however, could not be found in his quarters, or in his office. It was moments like these that Estella wished she'd had the Marauder's Map. Wandering around aimlessly, knowing she ought to dig up that book in the library but feeling too restless to commit herself to the task, Estella found herself in front of the statue of the one-eyed witch. Before she was even consciously aware of her actions, she had muttered the password and disappeared down the secret passageway that was revealed.

Honeydukes, Estella was quick to find, was nearly deserted at this time of day. With the eye of the storm having passed through the village earlier that day, golden hues of late afternoon sun now filtered through the sleet-covered glass, bouncing off the jars of sweets and bathing the room with an ethereal light. Students who had braved the earlier weather straggled past the store, hurrying back to the school for dinner. Distantly, Estella realised that she had completely missed lunch, her stomach choosing a stretch of silence to let its protestation be known.

"You best be getting back up to the school, dearie – put some food in your belly." The voice behind Estella caused her to spin around wildly in surprise. There, old Mrs Flume was turning back towards the shelf-lined wall, the boxes stacked in her arms blocking her line of sight.

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Estella flippantly, leaning her back against the shelf as the old woman placed the stock away beside her. "I'm sure there's a trolley full of goods I could choose from. Hogwarts food does lose its appeal when you've lived on it practically every day of your life."

The old lady's hand froze in mid-air, the jar of Humming Bugs in her hand momentarily forgotten.

"I was wondering when I'd be seeing you, Estella dear." The old lady turned her head to wink at the bewildered teenager before going about her business as though their bizarre exchange had not just taken place.

"Wait… so you are the Trolley Lady?" Estella was beside herself. "But why… the disguise… how come everyone doesn't know?"

In a matter-of-fact tone, the amused woman explained how difficult it would be for her to remain impartial to her customers if everyone knew of her dual-role. She also said something about 'hiding in plain sight' and the disguise having originally been implemented during Grindelwald's reign – for security – and it had stuck.

"So, what, you're going to Obliviate me now or something?" said Estella apprehensively.

Mrs Flume set down her jar of Iced Bat Wings heavily, her face coloured in both shock and amusement.

"Oh, good heavens child! No, of course not!" the woman reassured her good-humouredly. "Why, I simply expect that you will exercise your discretion like your father and uncle have before you."

"Just how many people know exactly?" Estella peered at the woman curiously, not quite catching the implications of the woman's revelation.

"Of the current students?" the old lady mused. "Well, now you… and those rambunctious twins-"

"Fred and George?" Estella was highly impressed that the pair had been able to keep it a secret. She would never have suspected them as knowing.

The woman nodded. "Though mind you, they had the help of that marvellous map… I'm certain you are familiar with that?" – Estella nodded mutely – "Your father and those friends of his were remarkably resourceful. Never did determine how those boys discovered the tunnel… which I've noticed is knowledge that has been liberally shared with the next generation, hmmm?"

Estella looked back the way she came and blushed sheepishly. She had been so certain that her comings and goings over the years had been undetected… at least that's what her godfather had implied.

"Oh, don't worry yourself child!" the old woman smiled at Estella's apologetic look. "Did you not realise that there are spells in place to make sure only those with no ill-designs can access it?" – Estella shrugged – "The wards protecting the Hogwarts boundary are not only at ground level."

Estella nodded mutely, inwardly cursing herself for not having thought of it sooner. Mulling over the woman's words, she backtracked.

"Wait, did you say my uncle knew?"

"Why yes of course – he'd always come into the store right before we closed to get his liquorice," said Mrs Flume. "I'm surprised you do not remember! He used to bring you in with him whenever he was rostered to round-up the lingering students at the end of a Hogsmeade visit…" her voice trailed off. "You were only a wee bit. I haven't seen your uncle with you in here for many a year-"

"My godfather started to escort me to the village once I started primary school," Estella confirmed. "I, er, got a lot less stares from my classmates…"

"Ah, yes, I do imagine that your uncle can appear quite intimidating to five-year-olds," the old lady bent forward slightly and leant close to Estella conspiringly. "But you and I know better, hmm? If I recall, there wasn't a lot he wouldn't let you do when he thought no one was watching."

At this Estella's head jerked up in surprise. From her memories of the time alone with her uncle in their quarters she would not have thought anyone would perceive his behaviour as 'soft'. Tolerant, maybe, but not that indulgent. She cocked her head to one side.

"What makes you say that?" she asked curiously.

Handing the girl a piece of chocolate fudge – her favourite, Estella noted – the woman summoned a duster and busied herself straightening the stock on the shelves.

"Call it my maternal instinct," she said cryptically. "One need only look at the man when he thought no one was watching him with you to see it in his eyes. Course, I'm a little more perceptive than most, I suppose… but he did never protest when I lavished you with attention or sweets." – she sighed - "It's never very often that a parent would bring a small child into the store - too much risk of breakages or temper tantrums, I suppose – but you were always such a delightful, well behaved child."

"Until I got her home and she'd explode into a sugar-high on account of all that fudge you always slipped her." A voice from the doorway startled Estella, who had been right in the middle of visibly popping a piece of the said fudge into her mouth.

"Uncle Sev!" she spluttered, choking on her mouthful. To her dismay, the bell above the store's front door was charmed silent, and she'd had absolutely no warning of the man's entry.

"Ah, Severus, right on time!" The old woman wiped her hands on her apron, bustling past Estella to search for something behind the counter. Placing a small, brown-paper-wrapped package by the register, she smiled at Severus. "One pound, as usual?"

Removing his gloves and tucking them under one arm while he retrieved his money pouch, he nodded towards Estella. "And a block of that fudge you hooked my niece on the moment she cut her teeth."

Summoning a block of the incriminating sweet, Mrs Flume was oblivious to the Slytherin Head of House's icy tone.

"Oh come now, Severus, I've not had the chance for nearly six years!"

"During which time you ensured the supply by having Lupin indulge the girl… don't think I didn't know what you were up to, the pair of you."

"Never did say I could get anything by you, young man;" said Mrs Flume. "Estella, it was nice to see you again… without the crush of students around keeping me in character."

Severus froze. "She knows?"

"No thanks to you!" Estella drawled, tilting her head to the side in indignation.

Severus accepted his change and tucked the small packages into a pocket of his voluminous robe before gesturing that she lead the way out of the store. Once out into the street and out of earshot of any passers-by, Severus rounded on his niece.

"Care to explain what you were doing back in Hogsmeade when I have it on good authority that Aurors escorted you and your friends back to the school at lunch time?"

Realising the ramifications of being caught alone in Hogsmeade, Estella began edging away slowly, shaking her head and holding her hands up in defeat.

"It's not what it looks like! I just came back to see Mrs Flume, to confirm my suspicions. I didn't even go outside-"

"What if someone who saw you leave Hogsmeade saw you reappear in the village with no apparent means of travel?" Severus asked. "Now is not the time to be drawing attention, Estella."

"Yes, Uncle," said Estella submissively, knowing it wasn't worth arguing about the fact that she hadn't even intended on leaving the store and it was unlikely that anyone would have noticed anything out of the ordinary. What her uncle was really saying, after all, was that he was concerned to see her alone in Hogsmeade during such a dangerous time.

Straightening to his full height, satisfied that he had gotten his point across, Severus nodded curtly and strode forward purposefully. Together, they trudged along in mutual silence, until a loud grumbling in Estella's stomach caused her uncle to cast her a curious look.

"You missed lunch." It was not a question, but rather a statement. Severus knew his niece far too well to assume differently. Frowning down at her in disapproval – for mealtimes were something he had always stressed adherence to since in perilous times you could never be fully assured of your next meal – Severus was further concerned to notice that the child was without a cloak. Without hesitation, he removed his own outer-layer and draped it over the girl's shoulders.

"Thanks," said Estella, wrapping herself up in the warmth of her uncle's cloak, happily losing herself in the lingering scent. She had felt the sharp edge of the cold the moment they had stepped out of the toasty warmth of the sweet shop, but Estella had never been one to complain, especially when it was her own fault that she was without protection from the elements. Answering her uncle's unasked question, she shrugged. "I must have left my cloak in McGonagall's office – I really wasn't planning on… oh no, I'm trailing your cloak through the mud! I'm sorry, why didn't you just cast a Warming Charm?"

"Because I'd rather invoke foolish wandplay casting a Cleaning Charm rather than trusting it for something I cannot see take effect."

"So in other words you wanted to be sure I would be warm, but you did not trust your Charms?" said Estella. "That's so sweet."

"Not as sweet as that fudge you insist on rotting your teeth with," said Severus in a rare candid moment, resting a hand on his niece's shoulder as they began to negotiate a particularly slippery part of the road.

Leaning into her uncle's side, Estella was warmed by her uncle's subtle display of care. Having spent the previous several years in the care of others, she realised that she still missed the little nuances of her uncle's character which he didn't exhibit in class.

"I came looking for you earlier," she said conversationally. "How did you suss out the Curse on the necklace?"

"The colour residue left on the gems when the light caught it," answered Severus.

"The Killing Curse." Estella stated, remembering all too well the green tinge she had seen when she had taken a close look at the piece of jewellery. Feeling her uncle's grip tighten on her shoulder compulsively – as though he were alarmed she had been in such close proximity to a potentially deadly object – Estella reached up and patted his hand in assurance. "I knew better than to touch it… but I don't understand what Draco had to gain by giving it to Katie like that – if not Katie, Filch would most certainly have intercepted it-"

Halting in his tracks, his grip on Estella's shoulder pulling his niece along with him, Severus pulled Estella around to look at him and led her aside to the edge of the path, slightly beyond the tree line, in the shadows. Manoeuvring her so that she was backed up against a tree and he had a bird's eye view of the path behind her, Severus rested a hand on each shoulder and leant in close.

"Are you suggesting that a student was responsible for this?" he asked in a low, urgent tone.

"No, I'm saying Draco had something to do with it," said Estella. "I know it could be a coincidence that he pointed out that necklace to me in Knockturn Alley; but given that he's been told to do something for-"

"-he pointed the necklace out to you?" interrupted Severus, genuine surprise in his voice. Quickly masking his emotions, he changed tact. "You never saw Draco with the necklace? You are basing your allegation on circumstantial supposition? Who else have you told?"

Seeing the wild look in her uncle's eyes, Estella's stomach fell. All at once she remembered how much the Slytherin House had endured since the Dark Lord's return. With six students already expelled, Estella was loath to think how the dishonourable discharge of one of Slytherin's highest-profile students would impact on her uncle. As head of the proud, habitually misunderstood house, Estella knew that Severus took the reputation of his Slytherins to heart. Unsubstantiated rumours and perceptions he could tolerate, but when a select minority chose to validate the Dark leaning so readily prescribed to his House, Severus Snape seemed to take personal offence; and Estella knew that it would not be wise to start such rumours about Draco without more sufficient evidence.

"Just you," she promised. "I was thinking of speaking to Draco before I let my-"

"You will stay away from that boy!" said Severus with all manner of seriousness. "I will handle things from here. Do not disclose your information to anyone, do you understand?"

Trusting her uncle to deal with Draco internally, she nodded in understanding and agreement. Though she could not quite see why her uncle would insist on doing things himself when there were Order resources at his disposal that would risk his cover far less than such a direct approach, she could appreciate the Slytherin's desire for discretion and independence. "What if Draco approaches me?"

"Then I trust you will deal with him as you have been taught," said Severus, straightening himself up and steering his niece back towards the path. "Come, we will miss dinner."


"Where have you been?" said John at breakfast the next day. "Hermione came around to see us at dinner, but no-one had seen you since you and Harry left for Dumbledore's office."

"I was with my uncle. Lost track of time and ended up staying in my room in his quarters," said Estella truthfully, tucking into a plateful of scrambled eggs.

"But you live with your dad now, right?" said John, confused. "I mean despite what Umbridge and those Ministry officials say; your uncle's letting you go to him for Christmas, yeah?" – Estella nodded, gesturing for him to keep his voice down with her fork on account of her mouth being full. John complied – "then how come he has a room for you in his quarters?"

"Huh?" Estella was confused. "That's always been my room, silly. I grew up… what, did you really expect my uncle to turn it into a room for his potions or something?" – John stared at her blankly – "You did? What kind of man do you take my uncle for?"

"Well he let you go live with your dad rather blindly, Estella, admit it;" said John. "Now you say that he's going to let you go back to him despite the Ministry's advice?"

"Let me rephrase that question," said Estella darkly. "What kind of man do you take my father for, hmmm? Where is all this coming from, John? You know the Ministry has a different agenda! For your information – though I'm beginning to think it's none of your business – my uncle let me live with my father because he is man enough to acknowledge that my father is a good person. That I belong with my father and am just as safe with him as I ever was."

"I do understand that, I do." said John. "But your uncle raised you, Estella. How could he just let you go? He doesn't strike me as the sort to back down without a fight."

"No, he just prefers to choose his battles," Estella conceded; her mind suddenly entertaining all manner of questions about how her change of address had affected her uncle. "My uncle didn't 'let' me do anything. Perhaps he had no choice."

"He has choice now, doesn't he?" said John. "The Ministry has reinstated his guardianship, right? So he can choose to keep you away from you Dad at Christmas-"

"-but he won't, because he knows that's not what I want." Estella finished for him, adding only to herself that her displeasure was not exactly in Dumbledore's best interests, either. "Is the idea of a man like Severus Snape having heart enough to bend to the whims of a child" –'or a overbearing Headmaster', she added to herself – "completely foreign to you?"

"I'm sorry, Estella, but you have to admit that it appears pretty unlikely-"

"Stop, John. Just stop it. I'm not about to go around in circles with you," said Estella tiredly. "Whatever you may think, you are sadly mistaken. You cannot possibly hope to know my uncle as well as I do purely from his behaviour in class. There's a lot more to him than that, and I should know!" – she wiped a hand over her face wearily, lest she go into a complete rant, and turned her attention towards a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet, noting absently that she had left her own copy behind in her uncle's quarters, unread. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Okay," said John, reaching for the paper in Estella's hands. He had not been placed into Ravenclaw for just his book smarts. "Wanna work on the crossword together?"

No sooner had the pair made themselves comfortable, beginning to work their way through the crossword side-by-side, were they interrupted.

"Hey, have you seen it?" Reg lumbered up to them hurriedly. "The notice in the common rooms? I've just come from the Hufflepuff table, and they have one too. All the first years are tied up in knots about the possibility of the Gobstones Club being closed-"

"Reg, I didn't look at the board this morning," said John slowly, cutting his friend off. Gesturing towards Estella, he continued. "Estella hasn't even been to the tower this morning, either…"

Estella nodded. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning?"

As soon as Reg had recited an abridged version of the High Inquisitor's notice, Estella's eyes flew to the Gryffindor table. There, she could see Harry and Hermione ushering some approaching Hufflepuffs away. Following her gaze, John frowned.

"What does this mean for the you-know-what?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Nothing, if I have any say in it," said Estella lightly, an unidentifiable glint in her eye. "Leave it with me, I'll get back to you."

"You mean we're still going ahead?" Reg was surprised. He, along with John and Elsie had signed the parchment at dinner the night before. "Even after it's so blatantly obvious that someone snitched-"

"Especially since someone betrayed us," said Estella in undertones, before tucking back into her breakfast. Adopting a cheerful tone, she talked between mouthfuls. "But don't worry about that; I've a feeling we'll know who ratted us out by day's end."

"The parchment was Spelled, wasn't it?" said John, smirking at Estella's mischievous nod. "Brilliant."

"Ow!" said Estella, a hand flying up to rub the back of her head in alarm. Before she could do so, however, she found herself with a handful of balled up parchment. Nonchalantly pulling it in front of her, she brought the covert message between two pages of the newspaper and smoothed it out inconspicuously. Ironing out the wrinkles, she was surprised to find a torn out page from the Daily Prophet. Exchanging questioning looks with her friends, who shrugged, she pulled out her wand; then, on a whim, whispered a familiar password.

"Hey, how'd you do that?" Reg sat up straighter and ogled at his friend in surprise as the letters on the page began to rearrange themselves.

Colonel Mustard in the Living Room with the Candlestick

Peacock

"Someone's been reading ye ol' Zonko magazines," she said absently, ignoring her friends confused looks as they stared at her expecting more of an explanation. Giving the piece of parchment a decisive nod, she balled the paper up again and placed it into her empty cereal bowl; pulling out her wand and incinerating it with a small flash.

Still ignoring her friend's confusion, Estella decoded the message. If memory served her correctly, 'Colonel Mustard' and 'Living Room' in the same sentence referred to the Gryffindor common room; while the weapon of choice – the candlestick – referred to the fireplace, and the signatory, Peacock, prescribed who the message was about. So, it appeared to Estella that her father would be appearing in the Gryffindor fire at midnight that night… midnight, because it was an established given that all 'murders' took place then.

"What's that all about, then?" John nudged her subtly, gesturing towards the small pile of ash that was pooled in the bowl.

"Don't ask," said Estella. It was vital to the code's success that only those who'd played the game over summer would understand the relevance. Picking her wand up once more, Estella flicked it towards the bowl, casually casting a Scourigify, before reaching for a cereal dispenser and heaping some into the bowl. Once she had measured her fill, she set about adding milk and sugar before pulling the bowl closer to her and picking up a spoon. The utensil was halfway to her mouth when she noticed her friends staring at her. Putting the spoon down heavily, she sighed. "I'll give you details tomorrow, 'kay? I'll know more then."


Yawning, Estella scowled at the fire. "All right, so what's with the clandestine cloak and daggers routine?"

"We suspect that someone is monitoring the Owls coming in and out of the school;" her father explained.

"So, how does that affect us?" We have other means of communication-"

"Yes, but we don't want Umbridge to suspect that, do we?" said Harry. "It's starting to look suspicious that we never get any Owls."

"Which is why I sent one to Harry this morning to set up this meeting," said Sirius.

"What, so Umbridge can crash the party at any moment?" Estella paled. "Are you nuts?"

"Apparently." Sirius smirked, alluding to the Ministry's engineered opinion of him. "I don't know what you're so worried about – you can still use the teacher's entrances, right? And you remember that one-way passage I used… it leads to a tapestry by the stairwell to the library."

"All right, so we're conducting this sham conversation in the middle of the night to illustrate to Umbridge that we are in contact with you?" Estella frowned, inwardly casting aside the memory of the first time she'd laid eyes on her father. Far though they'd come in their relationship since that night, the encounter was not a happy memory. Her thoughts then flying to Umbridge – someone who she wished would relegate themselves to being just another unhappy memory – she shook her head. "Great way to get her off our backs… so, what, we sit here and wait?"

"First of all, the purpose of this little exercise is to try and confirm whether or not the post is being intercepted;" said Sirius in a businesslike tone "In the meantime, why don't you tell me about this secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group I've been hearing about?"

There was a slight pause.

"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded.

"It was 'Dung, wasn't it?" said Estella, scowling slightly.

"No, Tonks actually… she followed you into the Hog's Head out of concern;" said Sirius. "I imagine I'd have other things to discuss with Fletcher if I were to bump into that sewer rat anytime soon. Dumbledore told me you caught him in the act."- he paused slightly, and as though by an afterthought, he added – "you know you really shouldn't go into that bar-"

"Well it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" said Hermione defensively, both she and Ron were present. "That's always packed with people."

"Which means you'd have been harder to overhear," said Sirius. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."

"Oy, lighten up!" said Estella. Though she agreed with her father's assessment of Hermione's choice of venue, she didn't like seeing the girl singled out. "The venue had some merit! Asides from those set out to follow us specifically, everyone in that bar pretty much keeps to themselves, admit it!"

"Hey, I was just making an observation!" said Sirius. "I'm not condemning what you all did. Not in the slightest… but I'm a Dad, I'm allowed to worry about the mischief my kids are getting themselves into."

There was no mistaking the distinct pride in Sirius' voice, and beside her, Harry swelled at his godfather's use of plural. Having fully expected a lecture, Hermione looked to Harry and Estella with a mix of surprise and disappointment. Beside her, Ron was frowning.

"What was 'Dung doing in woman's robes?" he asked.

"What, besides pulling off shady deals with stolen goods?" Estella drawled.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron, maybe he just got his dress robes from the same place as you!" Harry smirked, deftly ducking to avoid the cushion Ron hurled in his direction.

Sirius, watching the teenagers, was chuckling quietly, his mind, no doubt, assaulted with memories of similar scenes from his own school years. "I can't speak for his fashion sense, Ron, but I suspect he was trying to sneak into the Hog's Head without being seen. He was banned twenty years ago, apparently-"

"-well that makes no sense," Estella cut in. "I saw him talking with the Hog's Head barman outside the Three Broomsticks. If anything, it was the barman who was trying to not be seen."

"Really?" Sirius frowned. "Can't say I have an answer to that… but oh, before I forget, Ron – I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh yeah?" said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also-" (Sirius' eyes turned to the others) "-advises you lot not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of you and begs you to remember that she has your best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because using the Floo is against school rules… so it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to."

There was another pause as the teenagers mulled over the message. Without warning, Estella began to laugh.

"Merlin, Ron, is your mum related to Umbridge or something?" she said, envisioning the argument her father must have had with the woman that had resulted in such a compromise. "I didn't actually think people thought that way about - "

"Hey!" said Ron, turning red. "She's just overprotective."

"To a fault," father and daughter snorted simultaneously, bringing a smile to even Hermione's thinly pursed lips. Seeing the redheaded boy grimace and growl softly, Estella sobered, sending her father a warning look. "All parents are overprotective, to an extent. You don't see my Dad here backing your mum up! Speaking of which, Dad, could you be any more enthusiastic with that delivery?"

"Wait," interrupted Harry before Sirius to answer. "You're not telling me to not take part?"

"Me? Certainly not!" said Sirius, looking surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea."

"You do?" several voices, bar Estella, chorused.

"Of course I do!" said Sirius. "D'you think James and I would've laid down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge? You're in a perfect position to take matters into your own hands and I can't fault that kind of initiative."

Harry and Estella exchanged a knowing look and smiled at the unsuspecting Animagus.

"Should you tell him, or should I?" asked Estella cryptically.

"Oh, I don't know, I don't think it would be good if he passed out with his head in the fireplace," said Harry. "Floo Powder wears off, doesn't it?"

"Harry… Estella…" Sirius growled playfully. "Tell me what?" he turned his head to the side in alarm and swore. "Blast that woman's timing!" he said quickly, disappearing from the fire with a pop. In his wake, a hand appeared in the fireplace, grasping and groping around blindly.

"Oh, I hate it when we're right," said Harry with a sickened look on his face.

"The mail's being intercepted!" Hermione was indignant in her disapproval.

Seeing the flames flicker green, warning them of a imminent arrival in the fireplace, the four teenagers jumped up and scattered… Hermione and the boys to their respective dorms, and Estella to the closest exist with the assistance of Harry's Invisibility Cloak.


End Chapter.

Next Chapter: Halloween Tricks and Birthday Treats

Due: By the 9th May.