Harry Potter and the Tearing of the Veil Chapter 4, a harry potter fanfic

This section written by Nalana

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Remus Lupin stood up shakily, afraid that his legs would betray him. His dreams had told him that something important had occurred, but he never imaged he would be getting an urgent owl from Dumbledore containing the message that it did. He had rushed over to the school as soon as he tied up his projects with the Order. Seeing Sirius again, even after the message had told him he would, had been a shock, but this…

"Lavinia…" He choked, almost unable to believe she was standing before him.

Nearly eighteen years ago he had assisted Lily and James sneak a pure-blooded witch and her seventeen-year-old daughter far away from the witch's husband. He, Lily and James had been newly accepted Aurors and members of the Order then, Lily and James engaged but not yet married. The refugees, connected to the soon-to-be-Potters through a friendship between Lavinia and Lily, told the trio nothing other then the wizard they were running from had a power that scared Asta immensely, and neither she nor Lavinia had been willing to let the more established members of the Order know about their predicament.

Lavinia had been pale and quiet, hardly speaking. Remus had taken her under his wing while the mother and daughter were in his presence, trying to calm her down. In the short few days they were under his protection, he and Lavinia had become quite close.

"I thought you, too, had died." His voice cracked as a smile pulled across his face when he wrapped his arms around the young woman who had come closer.

"Well, I suppose that's fair. I was dead in a sense." She smiled, her voice lowering slightly before her eyes flickered over the shoulder she was resting her chin on to her fellow returnee.

Sirius Black's face was taut. He appeared to be slightly confused at the scene in front of him. The wizard blinked a few times, as if this was the first time he had seen Lavinia.

"Uh… Nia?" Remus blinked, "… Can I let go now?"

Lavinia blushed and pulled back. Lost in her thoughts, she had forgotten that she still was clutching to her old friend. It had only been sixteen years for her in limbo, yet still everyone she had known was changed. Remus surely didn't have any grey in his hair when her mother and herself had left. She couldn't imagine how Michaela or Devian must feel.

"So." Sirius finally broke the silence. "I'm told you're one of the people I was with."

Lavinia nodded. To tell the truth, she'd be lying if she said she had known Sirius had been in there with her. She could only remember vague images and feelings from her time behind the Veil, but she knew she had been aware of the presence of two males and another female. If the other three had not been in beds like her when she woke, she never would have been able to distinguish them as being her fellow Returnees. But as the older man spoke, a familiarity washed over her. A familiarity that had nothing to do with the fact that she had known Sirius by sight long before she was ever pushed through the Veil.

It had been a similar thing with Devian and Michaela. People think to themselves with their own voice, logically. So it was only fair to assume that when they shared their own thoughts and memories that they would think with the same voice. The Malfoy stopped her thoughts, realizing she had recalled more.

Before now, all she had known was her memories of the past, and knowing she had been separated from the world she was born into. But it came to her now that she had truly been bonded to other people through various images and strings. She wasn't sure if remembering this was something to rejoice or recoil from. If they, too remembered and had shared her memories… it wouldn't be long after that happened that she'd have to leave.

"And you." Sirius motioned to the youngest of them all.

Devian just nodded in return, feeling slightly excluded, as he didn't have a past encounter or link with these people. Not that Sirius knew about the one between he and her.

Lavinia threw an arm around Devian, bringing him into a quick hug. She couldn't help but feel slightly protective of him. After all, he was the youngest and the most detached from this time. Still the witch couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this urge that she just couldn't recall.

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"Slytherin! You heard the hat! It was as far onto her head as First Year when Malfoy..."

It was just after lunch and the Trio had a free period. They were currently in one of the lesser used hallways, the portraits alternately ignoring them or watching the argument with rapt fascination.

"Draco." Hermione promptly reminded Ron who hadn't stopped talking. "It's inappropriate to call him by his last name. Can you imagine Lavinia over hearing and think we're speaking of her?"

While Hermione was still extremely cautious of all the newcomers, she wasn't about to be rude. And she certainty wasn't going to keep their plot of overseeing the group alive by letting vicious rumors run wild. She had already noticed Lavinia withdrawing from them after Ron's behavior during their trip to Diagon Alley.

"Draa-kho!" Ron over pronounced, mocking her, then continued as if she hadn't spoken. "… sat down on the stool. Harry, come on! You've got to see how dangerous she could be."

"Oh, Ronald!" Hermione crossed her arms and stopped walking, causing the two boys to stop walking as well and stand facing her.

Harry blinked, realizing how aggravated his female best friend really was. She only rarely used his other friend's full name.

"You're so fixated on Lavinia, have you even considered Michaela?"

Ron shut his open jaw. Harry's brows furled. He had to admit, even he had forgotten about the other woman. That could be hazardous.

"I didn't think so!" The muggle-born witch nodded triumphantly at his reaction. "Not only is she the eldest, but she is also away from the school. We can't keep an eye on her, and Dumbledore can't very well help lead her in any way. She might be extremely distraught or shaken by this! Traumatizing events can drive people mad. Besides, to be fair, Lavinia is a Malfoy. Their line is long and powerful. There hasn't been one in history who hasn't been sorted into Slytherin. It's extremely hard for the hat to break a bloodline tradition that's been so true to form; it probably excludes other possibilities nearly by default!"

"Are you defending her?" Ron shot up, furious.

He had dealt with the arrogance and smug superiority of one too many Malfoys, both in school and domestically, to give any of them a chance quite so quickly.

"What she's saying is right, Ron." Harry stepped in between the two who were nearly face-to-face. " We can't just hone in on Lavinia, we have to look at Michaela, and even Devian. It was a female in my dream, but unless you're a lot more talented at Divination than Trelawney, dreams are really foggy and aren't always correct. But, 'Mione," He turned around to face his friend who was looking a little too smug for even his tastes, "Ron also has a point. You do seem awfully defensive of Lavinia. You have to keep her in the equation as well."

Hermione looked utterly offended. She pushed away both the boys before stomping down the hall towards a staircase there. When she reached it, she spun around.

"I, unlike some, don't forget about possible players. Maybe I just believe in giving people chances regardless of their lineage!" Her words struck through the both of them. Her defense of Lavinia was suddenly much more clear.

Slytherins had relentlessly taunted Hermione for five years already. Even now when she did the best, as usual, 'mudblood' was whispered under many breaths. Though she had built up a shield against it, both of her closest friends knew that it was hard on Hermione not to have earned respect with all of her hard work.

"Women." Ron muttered, stretching. "I'm gonna head out to the field, 'kay Harry?" He said nonchalantly.

"Uh...yea." The lightning bolt-scarred boy muttered before waving his friend off. "I'll be there in a bit..."

After Ron was out of sight he collapsed down to sit against the wall for a moment, placing his head into his hands. As if his godfather coming back under such circumstances wasn't enough weight, now Hermione and Ron were at it again. He couldn't remember a time when their battling had been as frequent or as intense. Was there something he was just missing?

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In one of the rooms above the Three Broomsticks, several candles burned brightly. Placed under incantation, they floated at eye level, following the witch who had enchanted them. The soft light they produced drifted over the well-worn floorboards, and cast over an ancient bookcase. There was a small window in the room, but the occupant had quickly realized it wasn't strategically placed to catch any significant amount of sunshine.

The gold caught worn leather of all colors, metal decor, and tattered cloth binding. Michaela Archer browsed the text that the innkeeper provided her as well as selections from the nearest shop and Dumbledore's suggested reading list.

She ran her index finger across the volumes, muttering the titles as she went. She had missed much in her years of "death." She planned to take in everything she could. And what better resource was there than historical recordings and literature?

After painstaking effort, she finally slipped her finger past the spine of one more modern publication of a glorified history text and brought it to the desk that she'd had brought up to her room. Flipping through the pages, she let her eyes scroll along the words. She took them in like a dehydrated man would water. Her mind buzzed with information of all the things she had missed.

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Lavinia made her way down the drafty hallways of Hogwarts cautiously. The lower she descended into the dungeons, the colder it became. It wasn't just the temperature that was affecting her. The entire atmosphere felt wrong. It felt oily against her skin; dusty to her mouth and nose.

Dread filled the pit of her stomach. Directly after lunch, Devian had been directed by a classmate to the Hufflepuff basement, Dumbledore nearly ordering Lavinia to visit her own House dorm. Must she really come back down here? She recalled the first day she came to this school full of determination and excitement as a slender eleven year old. It hadn't mattered then that she was branded a snake. After all, Slytherins were often successful and both of her parents had been in Slytherin as well. But that dreary descent into the maze of torch-lit stone had soon dampened her visions of receiving the approval and love that had been withheld all her life.

Luckily she wouldn't have to remain here in the dungeon this time. Dumbledore had promised Lavinia her own area for residing while she was here due to her "unique situation." But he had asked that she visit her housemates. It would be easier for her to become adjusted to taking classes with them, especially as she was already acquainted with a few of the Gryffindors.

Sensing her discomfort, the grey tiger-tabby kitten she had purchased earlier and deemed 'Claws' nuzzled her ankles. The feline hadn't left Lavinia's side, except when they had been at lunch. Even then it took two students and an unfamiliar witch, who had to be a teacher by age alone, to separate the kitten from the soon-to-be Slytherin. Lavinia had to laugh when the fuzzball had finally consented to the separation, on the terms that it remain permanently curled around the other witch's legs until Lavinia came out of the Great Hall.

"It's alright." She sent a smile down to her companion who meowed in protest. " Don't worry so much. I'll be fine."

The kitten seemed to wrinkle her nose at the answer, but let her owner be. She made a small growling nose of pride, and threw her tail up a little higher, jumping over Lavinia's feet as they both pressed on. The action brought a small smile to Lavinia's face.

She entered the Slytherin common room with a whisper of the words 'Potter Is A Rotter' in one string, flinching as she did. She hadn't the slightest idea why the Slytherins seemed to detest him so much. Voldemort hadn't spared members of that House unless they pledged loyalty, and sometimes not even then; so she didn't think it was just the fact that Harry had defeated him. Though, like her cousin was for Slytherin, he did seem to be the pedestal for the opposing house, Gryffindor. She didn't even want to think of what that meant for her house.

The wave of silver and forest green combined with the glow of a roaring fire hit Lavinia's eyes harshly. She shielded them as an instinct until she could adjust comfortably to the change. When she lowered her pale hand, she saw dozens of eyes stuck on her. That was yet another thing she didn't wish for.

"So, dearest cousin, we meet at last."

A boy with similar silver-blond hair to her uncle and departed mother slipped out of the chair and from under the hands of several girls to stride over to her. Though Lavinia had inherited the silver eyes of a Malfoy, her hair she'd gotten from her father.

"Draco." She said simply.

His eyes told it all. It was a family trait, that cold stare. Even when her heart was warm, she couldn't shake the feeling that look gave her. Even Asta had it; only in the last couple years of her life had she looked on Lavinia with any sort of warmth. Lavinia herself knew her own eyes could cut with a glance when she was particularly offended or when she didn't like someone.

Draco circled her, a vulture eying its prey. A curling scoff of distaste rolled out of his nostrils and throat. Soon he was standing in front of her once more. His arms crossed, the sleeves of top brand robes sliding down to reveal his pointed elbows.

"You're the one that Mother spoke of. Asta's girl. You don't carry yourself like a Malfoy... Then again, those who stick around Brats, Weasels, Mudbloods, and Blood Traitors wouldn't have much pride, now would they?" He spat at her, encouraging snickers from around the room.

Anger rolled in Lavinia's stomach. Though she wasn't sure who the "Brat" was, she assumed Weasel was a reference to Ron's last name. No wonder he had immediately hated her. The other two names were worse, and she'd heard them before, one applied to someone who had been one of the few true friends she'd ever had.

"It's funny how you define a traitor. Tell me, Draco," she paused, placing a quizzical look upon her face. "How is your father doing in Azkaban? I wouldn't think too well. I suppose that's what you get for thinking you're invincible. I imagine you're growing nicely into his ego. Maybe they'll save his cell for you."

Gasps filled the room. Lavinia didn't have to look around to know that several eyes had widened and cross looks were being shot at her. She imagined they looked quite like her cousin's face. That was enough.

"Why you..." Draco snarled, his glare matching the flame behind him in intensity.

He drew his wand and, gripping it like a gun, he shouted out at her in anger.

The older, female Malfoy simply raised her own, projecting a light blue dome momentarily from her wand. The room washed into color as the zap of energy from Draco's instrument pinged off the light Lavinia created, and bounced off several surfaces. After hitting the fireplace mantle, a girl's mirror, and a statue, the beam finally knocked over an unsuspecting first year by the name of Faust Malveyost.

Students around the boy shuddered, watching as he rolled around on the floor. Suddenly, his eyes went buggy. His tongue lolled from his mouth, and he scooted up on all fours. He whimpered and whined, trying desperately to scratch the back of his head with his left foot. The group burst into laughter...until the fleas started jumping everywhere.

Claws arched her back up. A great hiss spilled out from her tiny throat. The cursed boy became rigid, glaring at the feline before releasing a loud almost canine growl. The cat retorted and charged at the dog-boy. Faust promptly yelped and started running, knocking over stands and kicking up the rug as he tried to avoid the raging kitty.

"Oh, darn. It didn't hit the right person." Lavinia's words were half hearted, but Draco just scowled.

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Sirius Black stared into space. The other Returnees had been released and were finding their way to their designated new homes. Due to his belated consciousness, though, Madame Pomfrey had insisted he stay a bit longer.

He had never liked this place. It meant shots, unruly tasting potions, and pain. Now he could add loneliness to that equation. Not that he really had anywhere else he wanted to be. His family's house, still being used by the Order, wasn't home. He supposed now that his name had been cleared he could go back to the home he had bought with Uncle Alphard's money, but it wouldn't solve the problem of his solitude.

Remus had left nearly a half hour ago. The supervising witch on duty nearly had to yell at him to get him to leave. Sirius smirked at the thought of his best friend's protectiveness. He couldn't really blame Remus, though. If Sirius were in his shoes and he thought he had lost Remus, there would have been a rainbow of curses floating about the room.

Remus. His last friend. True, he had his godson and his friends. He also had Dumbledore and the Order, but it wasn't the same. They didn't reign at Hogwarts as the great Marauders, sneak into Hogsmeade at all hours of the night, or fancy torturing 'poor' Snape. No, Peter had betrayed them. James was dead. Remus was all Sirius had left of the best times of his life.

And then there were the other three. A new door of his life had been opened the moment he fell through the Veil. Sirius had begun remembering sensations and feelings from that time almost immediately after waking, but he was sure there was more, something important he had yet to recover. He did know that he had come to know those three entities as well as his partners in crime. Devian, Lavinia, and Michaela had become a second, or rather third, family. They were a quartet of protection in the abyss.

Until the day he had woken in the hospital ward of Hogwarts, he hadn't even known what their faces were like. Sirius recalled Devian's doe eyes and curiosity. Lavinia's silver-bluish eyes pierced him. Michaela's long blond hair swept around her face, making her look nearly like a Veela. The faces of his new family. Did they feel the same way about him? His own blood family had never done so, and he had lost most of the ones he had replaced them with the first time around.

"Sirius?" A meek voice disrupted his anguish.

He blinked only to find Devian peeping in from the other side of the separation curtain. Sirius had heard Madame Pomfrey giving Devian and Lavinia their check ups only minutes before, but he had thought they had both gone. Evidently he'd been wrong, though there was no sign of Lavinia, so he now rightly assumed it had been Madame Pomfrey and Lavinia to leave and not Lavinia and Devian.

"Hey..." He cleared his throat, groggy from lack of use. "What brings you to my little cell of solitude?" Sirius joked.

"I don't know." Devian shrugged and passed the barrier, plopping down into a chair beside the patient. "I just never really got to talk to you, and well, I guess... I wanted to ask you something... man to man."

A small smirk spread across Sirius' face. There was no mistaking who Devian was in limbo. His thoughts were always lively, but shy. He was intelligent but got ahead of himself. And he was always trying to please the others. Sirius had often felt protective of him, but not as much so as Lavinia had seemed to take to him.

"Alright. Go ahead." Sirius propped himself up against the pillows and head bars of the bed.

"Well..." Devian wrung the hem of his robes between his fingers. "It's about Lavinia...and Michaela... and you I guess. We were so close back there in that... place. And, well, you were always kind of like a big brother I never had. And 'Vinia and 'Kayla are awesome... pretty and smart and... " Devian's face flushed slightly. He really was young in mind despite the amount of time he had "lived" in Limbo. "But... I don't... I don't trust them."

Sirius blinked several times. That certainly wasn't what he had expected to hear! On the contrary, he had thought he'd be hearing some confession of a secret crush. He wouldn't have been surprised. Lavinia was a beautiful girl, and Michaela a striking woman. Anyone would have to be blind if they thought different.

"Why not?" Sirius inquired.

"...Michaela's cold. She's nice, but she's cold to us. I don't know. Maybe she just doesn't feel as close to us... or she's just scared. And Lavinia... she's hiding something from me, Sirius, and I don't like it! I'm scared for her! What if she's holding back something that could really hurt her and she was Sorted into Slytherin so I won't be around her as much and…" Devian stopped.

His words had become rushed and chaotic.

The older man reached out his hand and placed it on the newly Sorted Hufflepuff's shoulder. The boy's face was squiggled with worry. Sirius tried to give him a reassuring smile.

"Hey, listen. It's been difficult for all of us. I'm sure that Michaela will warm up. And I'm sure that if Lavinia were truly in danger she'd let us know. Hogwarts is the safest place to be, and I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of things."

Sirius' words seemed to comfort Devian. But, the one who spoke them wasn't sure that he meant them. The panic in Devian's voice made him squirm uncomfortably. What if Devian was on to something that Sirius hadn't paid enough attention to? The news that Lavinia was a Slytherin had surprised him. He wasn't sure why, but his heart ached at the thought.

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This section written by LadyV

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Lavinia moved stiffly beside Dumbledore as the pair headed through the dungeons to the Potions Master's office. When she had heard who the Potion Master was… he hadn't been present at the teacher's table at lunch… Lavinia had told Dumbledore that she had changed her mind about staying on at Hogwarts. She'd take her chances alone in the outside world. Dumbledore had talked her down, assuring Lavinia that Severus Snape was no longer a Death Eater but had reformed and was now working against his former master.

She had tried to argue, telling Dumbledore that no one reformed from the things she knew Snape had done, but Dumbledore refused to let her tell him what those things were. He was adamant that Lavinia put her feelings aside and face her teacher with respect. When Lavinia had made a face telling Dumbledore exactly what she thought of the idea, he changed respect to courtesy. She had agreed on the condition that she never have to be alone with the man.

And thus Dumbledore was taking her to this meeting, one of many scheduled in the next hour with the teachers of the classes she would be taking. She had to be introduced and given the work she needed to catch up on. She knew Devian was having similar meetings. Though they didn't have shared classes thanks to their different Years, they had many of the same teachers since there was only one per subject. She would have volunteered to go with him to the different meetings, but he would wonder why she had to do the Potions meeting without him but with Dumbledore. Lavinia didn't think Dumbledore would be happy if she told Devian what she knew of Snape's past, and she couldn't think of any excuse to give Devian that wouldn't just make him more curious. So she hadn't offered at all.

Dumbledore and Lavinia reached their destination, the much younger woman steeling herself. Dumbledore knocked, receiving a brisk 'Come in!' in return.

"Headmaster, I do hope this won't take too long," Snape said. "I don't trust my Third Year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class to stay out of trouble for long. And was it really necessary for you to come here, couldn't…" Snape had finally looked up and locked eyes on Lavinia, his slightly irritated speech stopping short. "I'm sorry, you look like someone…"

"Hello, Severus," Lavinia nearly hissed, her hand fisted around her wand tightly within the confines of her robe pocket. Snape's dark eyes widened in shock, and Dumbledore nudged Lavinia. "Or, I guess I should say, 'Professor Snape'."

Snape stood suddenly, agitatedly addressing Dumbledore, "Headmaster, whatever she's told you…"

"Relax, Professor," Lavinia interrupted, putting all her hatred into his title. "He wouldn't listen. I don't know what you could have possibly done to earn it while I was gone, but Dumbledore trusts you."

The relief that flashed in Severus' eyes was gone a moment after it appeared, and he moved on quickly to giving Lavinia the materials she needed and the assignments she had missed from the first week of school. As soon as she was able, Lavinia left the dungeon office, leaving the two wizards staring after her.

"Headmaster," Snape began when he was sure Lavinia was out of earshot. "I know you must have your reasons, but why is she posing as a student?"

"It's the safest thing for her until we can find a way to get her into hiding again," Dumbledore answered simply. "And Severus, just because Lavinia has already take Potions does not mean you should call on her for every answer. We don't want to raise suspicions about her."

"Of course not, Headmaster," Snape agreed as Dumbledore left.

The older wizard took no notice of the speculative gleam in the younger one's eyes.

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"Aw, Miss Malfoy, please do come in," Professor McGonagall called when Lavinia knocked on her classroom's open door. "Won't you join me at the front?"

Lavinia glanced at the class, First Years by their size and wide eyed gazes, and a combination of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw from their House badges and scarves, before doing as her former and soon-to-be current Professor had asked. Lavinia's own robes had not been altered to fit her House yet; she had wanted to put it off as long as possible.

"Class, this is Lavinia Malfoy," McGonagall told the youngsters. "She's in Sixth Year and is very good at Transfiguration. Why don't some of you ask her to show you some of the things she can do while I gather the supplies she came for?"

Shaking her head internally at McGonagall's use of her as a distraction, Lavinia moved to stand in the center of the classroom's front, taking Claws out of her pocket and setting the feline on the desktop closest to her. The tiny Hufflepuff girl sitting there smiled shyly at Lavinia before reaching a small hand to pet the cat. Claws began purring immediately, and the little boy seated next to the girl leaned forward to also give the kitten some attention.

Lavinia pulled out her wand and glanced around the room again to see if any of them were going to be forward enough to ask first. No one had raised their hand, but a boy in the third row was watching her speculatively.

She trained her gaze on him and asked, "Is there something you'd like to see?"

The boy hesitated only a moment before asking, "Can you turn your cat into something bigger?"

With a confirming smile and a swish of Lavinia's wand, Claws' body stretched and grew until a tiger cub was sitting on the desk where the ordinary kitten had been. The little girl whose desk it was stared wide-eyed at the new creature, making Lavinia glad she had kept Claws young in the new form. There were sounds of awe and appreciation from other of the students, and they became a lot less shy about asking for demonstrations.

For nearly ten minutes Lavinia transfigured Claws from one inanimate object to the next, occasionally getting a request for a different type of animal or magical creature. When Claws gave her a disgruntled look after having been transformed into a toaster oven and back again, Lavinia scooped the kitten back into her pocket. Fearing the children would revolt at the fact that she had stopped, Lavinia looked quickly around to find something else to show them, walking between the desks a bit. A little boy chewing nervously on a pencil (he must have been Muggle-born) sitting next to another one who was folding a piece of parchment into a paper airplane gave her an idea.

"While you're learning Transfiguration from Professor McGonagall," she told the students, "some of you will probably have trouble with partial transfigurations, something I did a lot the first few weeks of my First Year. But, once you have mastered not doing it accidentally, you may find it fun to do it on purpose."

"What do you mean?" A Ravenclaw girl asked.

"Let me show you," Lavinia answered, tapping the tip of her wand on the pencil in the boy's mouth.

The top half of the pencil transformed into a licorice stick, and the boy grinned at her from ear to ear. Lavinia leaned closer to the boy who shared the pencil-biter's desk, giving his just-finished paper airplane it's own tiny motor and propeller. It made a single circuit of the room before Professor McGonagall called a halt to the proceedings.

"Alright, class, that's enough," she announced, earning a few low groans of disappointment. "And Miss Malfoy, there are no sweets allowed in class, please change Mr. Sanders' pencil back."

Lavinia tapped the boy's pencil again when he reluctantly held it up for her. She gave him a wink, hidden from McGonagall, which he returned with a sly grin when he found that though it looked like a whole pencil again, the top half still tasted like a licorice stick.

Gestured back to the front of the room by McGonagall, Lavinia smiled at the older witch. She might have a couple more wrinkles, but Minerva McGonagall had not changed much in the eighteen years since Lavinia had last seen her.

"Miss Malfoy," the Professor began softly, "I know from the Headmaster that you are in the classes necessary to become an Auror so that you will have more protection, but have you ever considered teaching?"

Lavinia shook her head, keeping her voice low, "Not really, last time I took the N.E.W.T.S. necessary to work at Gringotts for… family reasons. Teaching would not have been, forgive me, 'good enough' for my mother, and well, back then I couldn't become an Auror."

"Forgive me for saying so, dear, but your mother is gone. It's your life now." When Lavinia just looked troubled at her words, McGonagall laid a comforting hand on the younger witch's arm. "No need to decide right now. I'm sure you'll have no trouble with the assignments," she added as she gave Lavinia the materials she had prepared. "Now I must get back to my class."

Nodding distractedly, Lavinia left the classroom to head for room to gather everything she needed to work on before going to the library.

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This section written by Nalana

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Harry poked his nose over the book he was reading. Hermione was on his left. Her legs were curled up to her chest in her chair to provide her with the perfect height book table. Ron was on his right flipping through Quidditch Weekly, a brand new pamphlet that was delivered by Owl for a fairly low subscription rate.

His two friends hadn't spoken since their fight hours ago. He was getting used to these speechless battles, especially after the whole Viktor Krum fiasco from Fourth Year. At least they were still willing to work together!

Harry glanced across the library. The Hufflepuff Returnee, Devian, was sitting with a slightly older girl from his house who was apparently tutoring him in Potions. A few tables over Lavinia was enveloped in her own literary choice. Harry leaned over to Hermione, pointing to a sentence in his book just as he usually did when something confused him.

"Psst, 'Mione... how did you know they'd be here?" He asked in a low voice.

"It was obvious, Harry," she said, leaning over to glance at his problem. "You can't get anything done when you're in your own rooms. The Library is the ideal place for studying. And they were assigned a lot of back work to hand in before their classes."

Harry nodded and went back to "reading." Thankfully they shared a handful of classes with the Slytherins and as long as Lavinia was planning to take the same or similar N.E.W.T.S. they would at the end of Seventh Year, it would allow them to see how Lavinia acted in class. Ginny… who was apparently very approving of her brother and his friend's actions when she heard about the Returnees from the Trio… would drop them a note about Devian's progress in the few mixed-house classes she would be sharing with him. It also helped that one of her newest friends, a Ravenclaw, had an eye on the new arrival.

Ron wasn't too happy about his 'baby sister' playing spy with them. But Ginny had grown up a lot in the past few years. He had accepted that she was becoming more and more of a young lady, not just his sister.

Ron whispered to his two companions that he'd be right back. Harry nodded and watched him walk away towards the bathrooms. When his redheaded friend was gone, he turned back to Hermione.

"'Mione, please. Ron didn't mean what he said. You know how much his family has been harped on by the Malfoys. He's just scared...he won't admit that, but he is." He pleaded with his friend.

Hermione closed her eyes and her book. Setting it onto the table in front of them she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her shoulders relaxed. Her breath released.

"I know, Harry... I just... Ugh. I can't stand it when he gets like that!" She rolled her head to look at him. "I know I can be pig-headed too, but... I just don't feel like I can ever win with him!"

"Oh, don't mind Ron. He's just fallen off his broom a few too many times." Harry smiled as Hermione chuckled.

"That wasn't very nice! Especially seeing how many times you've--"

"We don't need to relive those times, 'Mione!" Harry cringed at some very painful memories.

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From the entranceway of the library, a very smug looking Ron stood with his arms crossed. He had been watching Harry and Hermione since Harry had begun speaking to her, thinking he was long gone.

He watched curiously as Harry reached over to squeeze their friend's hand. She replied with a small smile and a similar gesture. What's more, Ron was sure they didn't even realize it.

Others might think he was blind, but he was anything but. He had seen the two responding more and more affectionately towards one another since the end of the summer. At first, he had wanted to smack Harry. Harry knew that he, Ron, had liked the bushy haired bookworm. But, after time, he realized that the jealous melted away.

But that didn't mean he wasn't worried. They were blinding each other and not even noticing it! With increasing concern for each other's state of being, they had lightened up on their watching duties as well as schoolwork. In fact, Ron thought Hermione was going to cry when she saw a less than perfect corrected scroll passed back to her just yesterday, the score most likely the result of the lack of sleep she had been getting.

Ron sighed heavily. His mind couldn't take all this. First Peter's arrest, then Harry's withdrawn behavior, the return of people who were supposed to be dead, the budding of his kid sister into a young woman, and now two very confused friends. Not to mention the fact that he seemed to keep stepping on Hermione's toes. Groaning, he rolled his neck and headed back towards the table.

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Lavinia walked up the winding stairs that lead to the tower room Dumbledore had permitted her to have. At the entrance was a tall marble carving of a slumbering dragonette. She traced it's scales and torn wings with her eyes for a moment. The craftsmanship of it made her breathless. It was so intricate! She hadn't taken the time to appreciate it earlier, too distracted by all she had to catch up on as well as McGonagall's unexpected suggestion.

"Lotica." She whispered, chuckling to herself at the irony of this moment.

To her amazement she watched as the wings of the mythical reptile spread. Her head moved, and it's eyes blinked. With a roar of illusionary fire, the dragon lifted itself in the air to reveal a doorway.

Stepping into the room, she was pleasantly surprised as she purposefully took in all the details surrounding her. The entire area had been furnished in purple and silver. From the comfortable-looking, inviting bed to the embroidered curtains, everything was nearly regal. The non-plush furniture… a dresser, bookcase, and working desk… was mahogany.

Claws, who had been brought here by one of the house elves when she was interrupting the quiet of the library with her mischievous chasing of dust motes, was sprawled out happily on her own little crimson pillow near the bed. She woke up with a start, calling a greeting to her owner before promptly laying her head back down. The feline was fast asleep again in a matter of minutes.

Lavinia sat down in the chair by her desk and let it all sink in. Tears suddenly began rolling down from her eyes. Part of her was glad to be alive, but it was a small part. She was now once more in danger, as well as presenting a danger to those around her. Her mother was dead, a brutal memory that seemed only days ago but had happened years before. And to find out from their son that Lily and James had been killed had struck a fresh blow.

She glanced around the room again, and fresh tears spilled for an entirely different reason. Lavinia couldn't remember the last time someone had put so much care into something for her. For the first time in a long time, she felt welcomed, at peace.

She only prayed that it would last. So many times before she had cried tears of agony and anguish. But not tonight. Tonight she would rest peacefully. Tomorrow was a different day. She hoped that tomorrow would not bring the reckoning that so often dogged her footsteps.

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Michaela's search lasted well into the night. She poured over book after book until her desk was stacked half way to the ceiling. The more she took in, the more her eyes shone. Finally, on the latest available text, she smirked. Things were better then she thought.

But there had been so much pain, so much sorrow! Just when the Wizarding world had thought it was regaining its stability it seemed to be crumbling again. This new Dark Lord fascinated and frightened her. He had destroyed hundreds, corrupted fistfuls of powerful wizards, and shattered lives.

Michaela's own family had tattered between allegiance with an over lord themselves. She had seen that wizard do some horrible things to those same people despite their allegiance. No longer did night feel comforting to her. The shadows from the waning candlelight sent shivers all along her spine.

"No." She whispered, closing the book in front of her loudly.

The witch was not going to let this bother her. From her time in limbo she had sensed that a couple of her fellow Returnees had been involved with this dark entity in one way or another. And if her acquaintance with them would mean being dragged into his world, then she would just have to take precautions.

Ms. Archer glanced out the window by her bed. A light rain was beating. She sighed deeply and with a flick of her wrist extinguished the rest of the candles that surrounded her. She sat in the dark, wondering, pondering.

Something was coming. Something that would raise her above others, or strike everything down. She could feel it in her blood...