"Sugar Quill," Snape muttered to the gargoyle in front of the door leading to the Headmaster's study, and it swiftly jumped aside. Rather than quickly reassuming its upright posture and stone composition, the gargoyle stayed on all four paws, head slightly turned in suspicion and mistrust at Sharlen, who glared just as harshly back. Snape cleared his throat, annoyed, and the gargoyle grudgingly sat up on its haunches and faced front again as Sharlen made for the door.

Snape stayed where he was. "You're not coming?" Sharlen asked, not kindly but too softly to be snide. Snape shook his head.

"The Headmaster requested to speak with you alone." Sharlen merely looked at him, waiting for him to abandon her and walk away, to turn swiftly on his heel and return to the dungeons, but he didn't see fit to move until she did. Without another word, Sharlen stepped onto the threshold that began to move by itself, not unlike the Muggle escalator she'd read about in secret books, but she climbed it regardless.

Lunch with Harry the day before seemed so far away now. This second week at Hogwarts was proving as eventful as the first. They caught the end of lunch and took some food out to the grounds during a study period. Against the far east wall, she asked him about his friends and how he spent his summer. She tried to take his mind off the terrible weight of what he had ahead of him, the weight she saw bear heavy on his shoulders and aura when they spoke in the Hospital Wing. The way he spoke of his fellow Gryffindors and their families actually made her want to meet them, somewhat. She was strong in her directive to help Harry; she fully believed to get too entwined in the lives of others would only complicate what she had to do. But watching Harry, she knew the joy he'd found in his friends was a strong part of who he was now, and that she would need to try and be part of that if she wanted to be with him. If he wanted her with him.

Then today, Snape retrieved her after classes and brought her to Dumbledore's office.

She didn't want to give herself too much time to panic. What had he heard?

In truth, it was only natural for Sharlen to be afraid of Dumbledore. Even those who most revered him also feared him in some amount, because of his influence, because of his power and ability. Though he had never and would never say it out loud, Dumbledore was the only person her father feared, or had reason to fear—except death.

When she reached the top, Sharlen just stood there, almost afraid to knock as though expecting the door might burn her. Within seconds of her staring at the handle, Dumbledore's call of, "Come in," rang out, and she scrunched up her face anxiously as with her mind she opened the door of his office. She couldn't shake the strong aversion not to touch it.

As the door opened before her, Sharlen made sure to stare at the floor. She did not like looking Dumbledore in the eye, and her father had always advised her not to. The floor seemed too still, and so she looked instead to the various portraits in the room, lining the walls, almost on top of each other. But the previous headmasters and headmistresses were most unkind, glaring and shaking their heads at her, or muttering and questioning outright what Dumbledore had been thinking, letting her into the school. She looked instead to the window, and the brilliant grapefruit sunset outside. She had a strong urge to fly.

"I assure you, Miss Down, my door will do you no physical harm, lest you run into it." Sharlen didn't see it, but Dumbledore was smiling softly at her, peering over his spectacles.

Sharlen nodded curtly and closed her eyes a moment. The door clicked shut behind her. "You summoned me?"

She could feel Dumbledore surveying her from just over the tops of his thin fingertips. Her father's words echoed loudly in her head. 'Absolutely no eye contact with Albus Dumbledore… I daresay he's nowhere near my expertise, but he is an accomplished Legilimens…'

"Oh I should say not, but then again I hardly ever 'summon' my students to my office… I merely fancied a chat." The smile in his voice was too apparent.

"Yes?" she said obediently. She wanted to be here, in this castle. She had wanted to come to Hogwarts with Harry since he first got his letter, since she first got her letter. Was Dumbledore about to kick her out?

"It's your father and I who are enemies, Miss Down. There's no reason for us to be at odds. Though I must insist you call me Professor."

"Yes, Professor," she said nervously. In the left corner nearest to her sat the Sorting Hat, over a fireplace. It raised an eyebrow at her, the seam widening, and she mirrored the expression. Leaning closer, she muttered to it, "Stacey Davis, in Slytherin? Really?"

The Sorting Hat laughed loudly and slowly, the brim of its mouth curled into a smirk. "She knew what she wanted, and her secondary traits align quite well with Slytherin House. She demonstrates exceptional resourcefulness and cunning." Sharlen looked at the ground, considering this.

"Won't you sit down?" Dumbledore asked, and out the corner of her eye Sharlen saw his gesture to the chintz chair before his desk. As her eyes went to the chair something gleaming gold and black glittered at her from the edge of his desk…

"The… the ring…" she muttered, eyes wide and amazed. The big black stone in the middle was cracked seemingly in two, down the clean line of the Elder Wand in the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. "… the Stone…"

"Ah," said Dumbledore swiftly, obviously very pleased, "So you know of this heirloom of your father's?"

"The question is how you knew it, not I!" she said loudly as she finally looked into Dumbledore's bright, clear blue eyes. It frightened her to see that he had no detectable aura, like her father.

"Please sit, Sharlen," Dumbledore said easily, gesturing his blackened hand he had been hiding at the chintz chair behind her, "There is much I'd like to tell you."

"You tried to wear it," she whispered, staring at his shriveled hand openly. "Why would you do such a thing? It was so obviously cursed."

"So like him, you've become," Dumbledore said very quietly, behind an easy smile. "In mannerisms, at least. That's almost exactly what Severus said when he patched me up."

"All of the Hallows, anything procured by Death… they are dangerous! Any item of that exceptional amount of magic is cursed, even before what my father—" she stopped, not knowing how far she should go. Snape didn't even know of her father's Horcruxes. Even thinking the word in the presence of another created a fierce tug in her mind to stop.

"Look, I don't know how you came to know of its whereabouts and I know even less of how or why you destroyed the damn thing, old man, but if you brought me here to ask me of it then you shouldn't waste your breath."

"'Professor,' please, Miss Down," said Dumbledore, trying not to seem too amused. "Though, I understand the difficulty of getting used to a new name, one only knows what you're used to calling me…"

Sharlen stayed quiet and waited for him to say something, to explain. The Headmaster continued, "I can see that you're having physical difficulty discussing this object, so let's just say I know what it was and leave it at that for now."

He looked tired all of the sudden. "Now, as I see it the two of us have quite a lot to talk about together, though I'm now realizing you wish to do so standing. That is, of course, your choice, but just let me impress upon you that we have quite a lot to discuss."

Sharlen stayed where she was, her eyes not leaving the Headmaster's.

"Right to it then?" he asked.

She was becoming rather annoyed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, for this is extremely important that I get this fact unbundled, but you do not wish for your father to vanquish Harry Potter." Sharlen just looked at him, unaware of how much her Master would want her to say, how much her father would want her to say. She then shook her head rapidly, so confused by what she'd always been told to repeat and her own agenda of saving Harry. "You have not been keeping it all too quiet that you wish to help Harry. I would humbly ask for you to further explain this to me."

Sharlen took a breath and let it out, muttering, "I don't like that Lupin's back."

"Professor Lupin, Sharlen. And he's only been to see me about you once, to mention your methods of getting to class. But we'll come to that a bit later.

"Now, I do feel it's important for you to tell me yourself that you don't want your father to kill Harry so that I can then freely speak to you because until I can, you can't." His blue eyes seemed to twinkle. "If I may be so bold, I'll go ahead and say that you've never had your father's thirst for the Dark Arts. In fact, you've never had a thirst for anything except a normal life, from what Professor Snape tells me. Yes, I know he's been your guardian since creation," Dumbledore added, sizing up Sharlen's suspicious stare. He did not say 'birth,' but Sharlen had long known that Dumbledore knew this about her. "And I do not know how you originally tie to Harry but I also do not think my knowing is entirely necessary to our discussion."

"No…" Sharlen agreed quietly. She had a distinct feeling he was lying. "What do you know? About… about Harry's fate? I… I can never really see… too far into his future…"

"What's the farthest into someone's future you've seen, Sharlen?" Dumbledore asked. It unnerved Sharlen to not have any aura to reveal to her if he was genuinely curious or testing knowledge he'd already acquired about her. Auras were her safe house—they couldn't be hoodwinked or tampered with in any way. They were true, trustworthy.

"I… I've seen Draco Malfoy's wife, and his child…" Sharlen said slowly, tasting her words as they left her lips. She remembered her vision of Snape confronting Dumbledore when Draco had touched her the first night at Hogwarts and swallowed hard.

"Aha. Confirms my suspicions, then. And how far have you seen into Harry's?"

Sharlen hesitated. "Well I… I don't really know how it works, I don't exactly have someone I can mirror this stuff off of, but I only really ever see Harry's past. The furthest I've seen into his future was last week when I foresaw that he would be the first student Slughorn saw on the grounds." She shook her dark hair out of her eyes. "That was only a few hours, though."

"Do you have any idea, Sharlen, why I've invited Horace Slughorn to come back into this castle?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward almost eagerly.

She had some idea. "He used to be Potions Master."

"Yes, but your guardian is my Potions Master. Hence, they will be sharing classes, not unlike Professor Trelawney and Firenze. Sharing between the years. I daresay Professor Snape is too distracted with you here to deal with the younger students this year, so he has conceded to take the top four years of Potions. It took some persuading to get him to take upper-level students with 'Exceeds Expectations' into his class... He assured me he could handle the workload without the aid of another teacher, but I insisted Slughorn be near me this year. You see, there's a piece of this puzzle that I need filled in…"

Dumbledore gestured to a stone basin filled with what Sharlen realized were swirling thoughts. "I need you to listen very carefully, Sharlen, because after this I'm afraid I must forbid you to mention it to anyone again until I die. Even Harry."

Sharlen didn't question this out loud; he seemed so sure of it, and besides that his cursed hand sat ominously, a reminder that he was marked regardless. "Surely you don't mean Malfoy?" she asked wearily.

"No part of me believes that Draco Malfoy will kill me," Dumbledore said in a final way, signaling that he either did not wish to talk about it or that it paled in comparison to what they had still yet discussed. "I do not wish for his soul to be ripped apart over me."

Sharlen gawked openly at Dumbledore. He did know of Horcruxes, and he knew of her father's. She waited with bated breath to find out how much else he knew.

"I want Slughorn near me this year so I can try and get from him his complete, untampered-with memory of him telling your father about Horcruxes while he was still at school," Dumbledore explained calmly. "At least, I believe that's what it contains. My plan is to have Harry get it from him. My hope is that more hints and clues exist in that memory that will help Harry to fulfill the prophecy." Dumbledore told Sharlen of Professor Trelawney's prophecy [which she openly could not believe the old bat had predicted], of the lessons he'd be having with Harry this year, and his suspicions of her father's Horcruxes.

"I'm going to be arrogant enough to assume you knew of your father's very dismembered soul, now that I've gone on about it," Dumbledore said simply. Sharlen nodded.

"He… wanted to make me one," she muttered, looking again at the floor. She remembered how Harry's scar had hurt him to be near her, though he hadn't admitted to it, and frowned.

Dumbledore nodded. "I had a feeling his snake was more than just a prized pet."

Sharlen just nodded, absently. "I don't know about the others, though. I knew of the ring because he had me help him with the protections on it, and the Gaunt house… and I know of the locket…"

She stopped abruptly, feeling another harsh tug in her mind. She was discussing things out loud she knew to be taboo, things she had long since been forbidden to talk about.

"… well he recovered at our house for days, afterward…"

"That's quite alright," Dumbledore assured her, his good hand up to stop her from explaining more. "I don't expect you to go spilling all your father's secrets to me, you have no reason to trust me and I have a good suspicion about these objects to be getting on with myself."

"I have no reason to trust you but no reason to protect him, either," Sharlen hissed. "Why would you not want to know everything I do if it will help Harry? Why have you told me all this, then? What was the point of spilling your little plan to me? If I told him you knew of his precious pieces of soul he would make more, you know. He would redouble their protection, make more, move them, you'd never have half the chance of destroying them."

"Ah, but then Harry would surely be doomed," Dumbledore quipped, a cheery grin on his face. He knew Sharlen had been bluffing. She was well-aware now, having heard the prophecy, of what Harry had to do to survive.

"I feel that's enough of this heavy, burdening subject for now," Dumbledore yielded when met with Sharlen's silence. "You're a very perceptive, intelligent girl, surely you've gathered all you need from what's been told to you. You look uncomfortable. Have I upset you?"

"I… am not used to getting compliments," Sharlen admitted honestly, shrugging. There was no way for her to know if he was being sincere or not but either way there was less of a way for her to lie to him; Dumbledore didn't need auras as she did to see intentions.

"On to the simpler subjects, then," he declared, lightly clapping his hands together, the blackened one barely touching the other. "Professor Snape has brought what I believe are most of your unique talents to my attention and I have held a staff meeting with all of your teachers discussing your movement between classes and your absence from the Great Hall. Another question for you, is have you been eating?"

Sharlen was taken aback and decided, once more, to avoid the old man's gaze. "I… hunt, mostly."

"Not the first unregistered Animagus I've ever had in my school," Dumbledore chuckled. "However I cannot allow you while in my care to succumb to malnutrition. You are more than welcome to not use the halls to move from class to class but I'm afraid you must start attending meals in the Great Hall."

She wasn't about to openly argue.

"Now, for my last question," Dumbledore said, looking at her from above the tops of his thin fingers again, "Why did he not name you Riddle?"

"What?" Sharlen laughed derisively, sarcastically before reciting, "His 'filthy Muggle father's name?'" Dumbledore chuckled a little while Sharlen ran a hand through her hair. "He wants me hidden from the world," she answered seriously. "This name has no ties to anyone or anywhere. He says it's a beginning. Riddle is his burden to bear."

"I would also like to correct you," he said quietly but firmly, before she swept from the office, "Not all the Hallows are dangerous."

"Anything procured by Death is dangerous," Sharlen repeated, through her teeth.

"The Cloak, on the contrary, has never given Harry Potter or any of his relatives any danger."

Remembering the story of the three Peverell brothers, Sharlen had to give the old man that one. She was partially stunned that Harry had the real cloak in his possession and fantasized briefly of him escaping with her under its protection and living far from her father forever. "To answer your question," she said in a quiet voice, glancing back over her shoulder, "It's extremely difficult for me to disobey my father. He always has access to me and I was created to be a weapon of his and nothing more. But I will do everything in my power to save Harry from him. That is all I expect from my life, and I fully expect to lose it trying to succeed." She paused, listening hard for any reactions from Dumbledore. He said nothing. Swallowing with difficulty, she said, "I hope you and Harry will use me appropriately, having this in mind."

"Noted, Miss Down," Dumbledore said easily. "You and I will speak again soon."

Returning her gaze to the door, she asked, "Is this made of yew?"

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "It is indeed."

"Yeah." That's what her father's wand was made of. She gestured toward it roughly and it opened before her. "I won't be touching that."

Sharlen went straight from Dumbledore's office to the Great Hall, where everyone was having dinner. Her head ached as she entered the hall and instead of going to an expectant-looking Draco at the Slytherin table, Sharlen headed toward Harry at the Gryffindor one. She sat down next to him on the bench without a word, burying her forehead against his shoulder, and he quickly looked down at her, worried. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

Ron and Hermione, on the other side of the table, looked at each other and waited.

"Dumbledore's having me attend meals now," Sharlen whispered, eyes shut tight. She felt Harry turn toward her and envelope her in his arms, pressing his forehead gently against hers. He felt hot against her icy skin, especially his scar. "There's too much… energy…" she whispered, eyes shut tight against the visions brought on by Harry's touch. She saw him turning pages alone in a room above The Leaky Cauldron.

"I bet it'd be really bad for you, then, if we were near a Quidditch match," Ron chimed in, trying to be conversational. Hermione glared at him, highly disagreeing of his getting involved with Sharlen; it was apparent she felt Harry shouldn't have anything to do with her, either. Sharlen politely smiled at Ron and nodded quickly. She then stared at Hermione and her brilliant red aura; she was angered, and alarmed, by her even being there.

"Are you prejudiced against Slytherins, Hermione?" Sharlen asked lightly, her face quite blank. There was no hint of a challenge in her question. As Harry and Ron stared between Sharlen and Hermione, it seemed to them that the girl truly had no concept of how blunt and awkward the question had been.

Hermione's face had fallen in pure shock and she bristled, drawing herself up on her bench, unsure of what to do. "Me? Prejudiced! Surely not! I'm always saying the rivalry between houses goes too far and perpetuates all sorts of harmful stereotypes! But why would you ask me such a thing?"

"Sorry, was that a weird thing to say?" Sharlen asked genuinely, looking between the two boys whose eyebrows were raised identically. "Sorry about that, I didn't realize… well it's just your aura is deep red and I wanted to find out why you were angry with me, so I assumed that might be it."

Hermione asked, "Aura?" while Harry and Ron chorused, "Angry?"

Sharlen blinked, unsure of who to answer. She went to Ron's original question instead, starting with a nod. "I'm sure being in an enthusiastic crowd would be rough, yes."

Desperate to follow Sharlen's lead as if the unceremonious segue had not occurred, Hermione feigned interest. "Uhm, so, what exactly… does it do to you to be around people?" she asked quickly, not sure how to word it politely. "I mean, we've just all noticed you've kept mostly to yourself…" She and Ron seemed to be avoiding discussing Harry's close embrace with her, or the other Gryffindors' confusion. Farther down the table, Romilda Vane looked like she had been punched in the face. Slowly Sharlen began to notice that her close proximity to Harry had something of an impact on everyone around them.

"It's their energy," Sharlen repeated, feeling dizzy. "It's just exhausting because I can't decipher the emotions fast enough. It's kind of like… when you're making a Felix Felicis solution but you add the infusion of wormwood before the twelfth or too soon after the new moon and it emits Disillusioning Fumes…"

Hermione nodded as though that had made her understand perfectly. Sharlen tried a smile; she knew this girl meant the world to Harry, and had to try to play nicely.

Truthfully, after being kept from people for most of her life, being social was a skill that completely eluded her. Simply speaking to other people—about what, even?—felt bizarre and not entirely desired.

"What can I do to help?" Harry asked. She looked up into his eyes and felt a sudden chill. She turned around and locked eyes with Snape up at the teacher's table. She had been on the end of punishments from him her entire life, and she had never quite seen the face he was making at her now. Still in Harry's arms, this look made her blood run cold; Ron followed her gaze to Snape and openly shuddered. As Harry and Hermione followed suit, Sharlen brought out her flask and took several long sips, feeling a little incorporeal.

Opting to not acknowledge Snape glaring daggers at her, she answered Harry, saying, "I'll be okay after some food. Tell me about Quidditch."

Ron and Harry's auras beamed.