The success of destroying the bracelet Horcrux was short-lived. By the time Sharlen had removed her soiled clothes, washed the ash from her skin and hair, and sank into the chilly covers of her bed, a small frown decorated her face again. She lay in bed with her shoulder aching to the bloodrush of her heartbeats, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts went from elated promise to wondering where the rest could be. She had all but lost hope that there could possibly be another in this house, and gave up her efforts to figure out if one could be in the remaining bedrooms. She'd helped her father hide and protect two of them, and she was certain he would never leave two in the same place even if Bellatrix could move around.

She'd been flirting with the idea of reconnecting with Wormtail; all day and all night he was kept in the basement and no one was permitted to go down to see or speak to him. Sharlen hadn't made a case for it; she'd lived with Wormtail before once he escaped from being Ron's rat, and didn't care for his company though he always insisted on doting on her.

But there was a possibility she could get him to let something slip about certain important objects and she would gain a new place to start looking for the rest of the Horcruxes.

Morning light came and she relished the return of her visions, mostly because, by some miracle, she'd seen Harry. In one of her visions, she saw Harry and Hermione walking close together down the lane of a small town, the window light of a quiet pub illuminating them as they made their way through the snow toward a graveyard. They hesitated at its gates.

More than anything, she wished she could collaborate with the trio to find the next step—surely, after all this time, there were things they'd uncovered that she wasn't privvy to?

Knowing she had to start somewhere, Sharlen slipped out of bed and moved through the dark manor to the basement door. She quietly opened it and stepped inside.

Hearing footsteps, Wormtail scurried halfway up the stairs to cut her off. It was completely dark down there and she couldn't see more than five feet in front of her. He did a flourishing little bow to see it was her, his face twitching in the same ratlike way it always did, his hands moving over and over each other tirelessly, one a bright silver. "Princess you do honor me by the sight of you," he declared breathlessly, huge teeth bared in a smile, "but I'm afraid you mustn't come down! This is not a place fit for you."

"Don't embarrass me, Wormtail," she said slyly, taking another step down. "It's been too long. We have catching up to do."

Wormtail looked simultaneously horrified at the idea of her coming downstairs and overwhelmed with joy that she would even consider wanting to be in his company. "It would be an honor, a true honor, as it always is to serve you! But perhaps—"

"I won't impose. Make your preparations and tomorrow we will have tea," she insisted with quiet resolve, turning to go back up the stairs. "I have a feeling you and I will have much to talk about." She retreated to go find Draco to occupy her.

It was a cold, rainy day with a quiet band crooning on the radio in Sharlen's bedroom hours after visiting Wormtail. She was reading on her bed, trying to redouble her efforts. Having already poured through most of the dark magic texts in the manor, it had occurred to her that a reference to a potential Horcrux, or an item her father may have been drawn to, may be detailed in a school book, since he was at Hogwarts when his immortality plans began to take shape.

She and Draco had taken to reading through the year's school books, which Narcissa had approved of in her extremely muted way, and would often interrupt each other following long periods of silence to ask questions or attempt practice.

Having been taught at home by Snape most of her life, Sharlen felt a familiar homeyness to this practice, though it ultimately just made her melancholy sing when contrasted to the previous year's bustle. Hogwarts, and the castle, and the classmates, and the dorms—finding her way through the hallways and avoiding staircases, flying to classes, watching Harry on the Quidditch pitch. Lingering in the locker rooms with him.

She sighed with a little shake of her head and turned the page back to reread what she'd gone over, knowing she'd daydreamed through it. Draco glanced up at her out of curiosity and then went back to reading; he was beside her on the bed, laying down on his stomach while she was propped up on her pillows. Earlier they'd both gotten up to try their hand at Disillusionment Charms. Draco was rather gifted at it and said over and over how much it would have benefitted him last year to have mastered this. Sharlen had held her tongue with great restraint.

She was used to silence, but Draco worked better with some amount of background sound, likely to echo working in the Slytherin Common Room. The band on the radio, The Merlin Wall, was playing smooth and slow, with a woman singing long notes that took her voice from bright to burdened by the end of her breath. Sharlen felt her eyes losing focus on the diagram of transfigured goat hearts before her.

and it's the storm of your spell that disaffects me

and it's witching hour but we feel it sinking
and the crystal ball showed that you're not on your own
but I'd wish my sight gone to not believe what I see
What is love but this?

What is love but this?

Sharlen shut the book and set it heavily to the side, boring her palms into her eyes as she slunk down half a foot deeper into the pillows. Touching her hip, Draco's stationary elbow lifted her shirt from her side as she slid down but she didn't seem to notice. Draco glanced back over at her and waited. "I just can't think right now."

Draco shut his book as well and turned his head side to side to stretch his neck, keeping his eyes on hers. Sharlen turned to look out the window and watch the rain hit the glass and trickle downward. "Are your visions bothering you?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so."

Draco pulled himself up a foot closer to her, one arm bent to rest over her ribcage so he was settled half on top of her torso. She glanced down at him calmly, eyes half-lidded, and waited. His chin resting on his wrist on her stomach, he asked, "Well, what's on your mind?"

Sharlen watched him watching her for a minute before turning back to the window. She didn't attempt to move him yet; if she was honest with herself, the weight of him was extremely comforting. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine he was Harry. So she did. "I had nightmares for the first time last week," she said loftily. "I've never had them before."

"So your visions are bothering you," he contested. She shook her head.

"My visions used to feel like nightmares but at least they were real. What bothered me was what my mind created," Sharlen told him. "My mind isn't meant to create, it's meant to see."

Draco laughed. "I don't think you really get much say in it when you're sleeping."

"I suppose," she yawned, stretching her arms high above her. Draco adjusted slightly, one arm squeezing her briefly. "But when you go from knowing everything you see is real to seeing things you know can't be real, you start to question everything you perceive. What you've always known to be real."

"So now what do you know?"

Sharlen covered her closed eyes with one hand and fought a sigh. This wasn't like talking to Harry, who would do anything he could to reassure her what was real and what was fiction. Draco had nothing to contribute—he was just desperate to keep the words coming. There was no substituting one for the other. She sat up, lightly shoving Draco to the side with a small smile. She couldn't be selfish. "I'm afraid I know you're out of bounds."

"When are you going to stop fighting me?" he asked playfully, sitting up on his knees. Sharlen cocked her head to the side, admiring how childlike he seemed in this state. But she had a part to play. She couldn't be too nice.

"I shouldn't need to fight."

Draco leaned up closer to her, a slight sneer back in his voice. "So you're telling me that all last year you were able to force yourself to cozy up to Potter, someone you want dead, but you and I are out of bounds here? After spending every day stuck in this house together?"

"Watch what you say to me," she told him warningly.

"You know I care for you," he threw at her, eyes narrowed angrily. She couldn't tell if she'd actually touched a nerve or if he was just filled with pent-up negativity and no one to bully now that he wasn't at Hogwarts.

"I don't know that, and I can't forgive you," she muttered quietly, remaining calm. "I can't forgive how you treated me last year. It can't be reconciled. But you've been better, and I think you can get better. When you stop being so selfish and cowardly. When you stop wanting me just because I'm here."

She climbed over him and off the bed, opening the window across the room. "Is that what you think?" Draco called out to her, standing from the bed. Anger and pain warred in his voice. Sharlen transformed into an owl and took off into the moody weather to find Piotr.

Early afternoon the next day, Sharlen used the Disillusionment Charm on herself and a tray of tea and biscuits and snuck unseen down the stairs to the basement. While she didn't think the Malfoys would fight her that hard about going to the basement, she didn't want suspicion following her around anywhere. Initially when this plot was still forming in her mind she'd cursed her lack of Veritaserum, but inside she knew Wormtail would tell her anything truthfully.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs this time, where she impatiently insisted that he turn on at least one light and brought herself back into view. Skittishly he agreed, leading her through a long, dark hallway toward a small kitchen table that couldn't be more than two feet wide. Sharlen set the tray down in the center and put her hands on her hips, looking around.

"Wormtail, why in the world are you letting them keep you down here?" she grumbled, putting on her best disgusted face at what she could make out in the dim light, which was next to nothing. What did he do down here all day and all night?

"You are kind to worry for me, but, after living as a rat for so many years, this is actually quite familiar to me," he said with grateful stutters, back to turning his hands over and over. Sharlen kept her eyes on the silver one. His aura revealed the bright yellow of fear tinged with pink gratitude, but around the silver hand was solid gray like what surrounded Harry's scar when she came close.

"Are you enjoying your gift from my father?"

"So very much, Princess, yes," he gushed, that breathlessness never wavering. His delight was plain. "Our Lord is beyond generous to us."

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. Being underground in the dark with him made her want to flee. "Very good," she said. "Eat, drink. Let's sit together a while."

Nearly falling over himself to get her chair for her, Wormtail took care to avoid touching her in even the smallest of ways, as he'd been taught. Still, as she sat and watched his movements pouring the tea, her eyes did not look away from the silver hand. She could only imagine the power it held.

"You are as generous and merciful as our Lord," Wormtail stuttered, handing her a teacup and sitting down across from her. He shivered and twitched and this cup chattered incessantly on the saucer he held, the clinking magnified against the silver hand.

"Wormtail, what are you so upset about?" Sharlen demanded lightly, putting her own cup down. "Does my presence displease you?"

"My Princess, no!" Wormtail agonized loudly. Sharlen glanced up the stairs, wishing he would be quieter. "But to see you in this environment, our Lord would—"

"He isn't here, and he doesn't need to know," she told him quietly, her voice like ice. Wormtail gulped. "But if it makes you so nervous, I can leave. I only wished your council."

"Mine?"

"Yours," she agreed with a nod. She stared wide-eyed at the table before her, running her hands through her hair anxiously. "Of course my father is the most powerful wizard alive, and I could never doubt him or his influence," she muttered, hoping she looked truly worried, "but he is always travelling, always out of sight, and I can't help but worry about him. He is my father, after all, and this is war."

Wormtail nodded a dozen times in quick succession, exhaling through his nose and setting down the clamoring cup. "Naturally you would worry my Princess, but our Lord has no match in the known world."

"Even Harry Potter?" she sneered, as if the words sickened her. "Even The Chosen One?"

"I know Potter," Wormtail whispered. "And he will die at your father's mighty hand."

Rage burned her throat like acid as she fought to swallow it down, her eyes narrowed. "But what is father doing? Why is he always gone? He has others to recruit for him, he has others to seek for him. What must he be after?"

Wormtail's stuttering reached peak. "My Princess, we really must never question—"

"Wormtail, do you know if he is making something?" Sharlen growled, standing and leaning over the table. He looked up at her with wide, frightened eyes as hers narrowed. "Do you know if he's hiding something?"

"I don't know what you could be referring to," he whimpered. "I have been down here nearly a year!"

"So you're telling me that my father hasn't told you what he's off doing or if he is working to keep anything hidden? You know nothing?" Sharlen threw at him quickly, hoping to startle something relevant out of him. But she could see it was a waste of time—his aura was almost entirely yellow now, not a hint of dark blue anywhere. She'd been counting on that color to signify that there was something to know, something he was afraid to face or speak about.

As he shook his head, watching her with those frightened eyes and twitching in his rat-like way, Sharlen stood and looked around the tiny living area. "Well you wouldn't mind," she muttered, holding up a hand over her shoulder to Confund and restrain him, "if I had a look around myself, then?"

She left him there to head back down the hall toward the entrance to explore the other half of the basement. She held her right hand before her and thought Lumos to better illuminate her path. She wasn't sure what there would be to find, but she didn't want to risk regretting a missed opportunity several weeks or months down the line. She was frustrated to see the basement where Wormtail had called home was largely abandoned. Rifling through what chests and boxes did wait for her brought nothing but rich old clothing and parchment.

Standing with the intention of setting Wormtail right and erasing his memory altogether, Sharlen glanced further right and furrowed her brow to see jail bars in the far right corner of the basement. Head tilted, she raised her arm high to shed more light, but it didn't reach. Lumos Maxima.

The light increased to show as far as the outer walls, and standing at the bars was none other than the mystifying Ravenclaw with long blonde hair she had grown to revere and fear.

"Luna," Sharlen breathed, running forward and clutching the bars to the cellar door. Luna peered up at her warily—and somehow her aura was still white.

"Sharlen, how'd you get here?" Luna asked mystically. "Are you in trouble too?"

"Oh Luna, what are you doing here?" she asked desperately.

"They're mad at dad," the wispy girl sang easily. "So they took me here."

"You're not alone…" Sharlen said quietly, peering around her into the darkness. She saw three faces; one she did not know, the other was Ollivander and Dean Thomas. "Dean?!" Sharlen exclaimed. He came forward with that sheepish grin he usually held for her. Sharlen clutched the bars disbelievingly. "How are you even here right now?"

"Went into hiding," he muttered, glancing back up the stairs. "I didn't want my mom and sisters targeted, so I left. We don't know if my dad was a Muggle or not."

"So you were afraid of getting picked up by the Ministry…" Sharlen finished sadly. "I'm so sorry. Did Snatchers get you?"

Dean nodded.

"Who knows you're here?" she hissed in a rush.

"Only you, I suppose."

Sharlen's mind raced, but she couldn't get them out by herself. "Luna, Dean, I can't get you out. They'll know it was me. It's important that they think I'm a Death Eater."

"It's okay," Luna said with a little smile, "I know you're not." Dean nodded again dutifully.

Sharen searched Luna's eyes rapidly, mind racing. "I'll find a way to get you out... Maybe I can give them all a Sleeping Draught and sneak you out…"

"They'd know it was you, wouldn't they?" she asked brightly. "What excuse could you find for how we all escaped while they were sleeping?"

"Ollivander," Sharlen said in a loud whisper, beckoning him over. The old man struggled to stand, so Luna and Dean went to help him. He leaned heavily on their arms and approached her uneasily, eyes milky from the darkness he'd been living in. "How long have you been down here?"

"It's hard to say, miss," he rasped sadly. Sharlen reached through the bars and took his withered hand; he attempted to flinch away as her eyes grew white with the vision, but she held fast, Luna assuring him it was okay. Sharlen watched Wormtail bringing them rations in the darkness, his wand on them, silver hand glittering. She pulled away.

"Wormtail is the only one who comes to see you, yes?"

Ollivander nodded. "Yes. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not come for a long time."

"I'll be right back," Sharlen told them, resetting her Disillusionment Charm and running back up the stairs to the kitchen. She gathered whatever food she could carry, forgetting herself momentarily before she remembered to levitate two baskets of fruit behind her, sneaking quickly around the corner and back down to the dungeon. Sharlen directed the food through the bars, swiveling her hand through the air to remove pomegranate seeds from their skins without all the mess and warm up the two loaves of sourdough bread. "Keep it hidden in case they come down," Sharlen warned as the prisoners' eyes lit up to see and smell the food. "That should hold you over until I can return."

"Where will you go?" Dean asked, holding loosely to the bars that separated them.

"It will have to look like outside help," Sharlen muttered to herself, glancing around the stone walls of the cellar. "Maybe if I can get Lupin and Kingsley… tell them where you are…?"

"Harry," Luna said, "Harry will know what to do."

Mild shock jolted through her at the suggestion. "I can't risk him coming here, Luna, I can't," Sharlen said, pleading with her to understand. "That's much too dangerous. He has a job to do. He has to stay in hiding."

"I know Harry will know what to do," Luna said meaningfully. "He doesn't have to come, he will know what to do. You need to find him."

"He doesn't want to see me, Luna," Sharlen muttered sadly, avoiding Dean's eyes. She was ashamed to say it out loud. "He wants nothing to do with me. I'm more help to him here, gathering information."

"He does. Of course he does." She nodded reassuringly. "You're stronger together."

Luna's white aura still shone in the dim light that surrounded them and Sharlen considered her warily. "I'm going to get you help," Sharlen promised them, turning to each in turn. "They can't know I'm helping you. Sit tight and do what they say, I'm going to get help."

Sharlen ran back to Wormtail and held her fingertips just above his temples, concentrating hard on Obliviate. As his expression grew more dazed she hurried up the stairs, undoing his restraints over her shoulder as she rushed away.

Racing back up the stairs two at a time, Sharlen flew to her room and began digging through her small pile of items. She found the little black book and feverishly flipped the pages, but Harry hadn't written anything new. She took a deep breath, mind racing. She couldn't leave them down there much longer—she knew Ollivander's usefulness to her father had likely come and gone, and if Luna's father did anything to further upset the Death Eaters, they would kill her. She thought strongly that Lupin and the other members of the Order would likely be able to help her plan an escape for the prisoners, but Luna's mention of Harry had unnerved her. She should tell Lupin first…

Sharlen grabbed the coin they shared and sent the call, Apparating to their spot in Knockturn Alley. She paced up and down the shadowy space between two largely abandoned taverns until a faint pop alerted her to another's presence. Turning on the spot, Sharlen breathed a sigh of relief to see Kingsley was indeed with Lupin.

"You got my message," she said, pleased but unable to calm down. She barely cared that both men had their wands on her.

"Who did I say was the biggest disappointment in pureblood history?" Kingsley asked her, dark eyes narrowed while his head was held back away from her, considering her. His aura was a pale gray, which told her Lupin had his work cut out for him convincing the Auror that she was trustworthy, and had been during her time with the Ministry.

Sharlen said calmly, "Percy Weasley."

Lupin lowered his wand and looked skeptically at Kingsley. "A little harsh, wouldn't you say?" Kingsley pursed his lips.

"We don't have time for this," Sharlen muttered, grabbing the fronts of their cloaks and pulling them deeper into seclusion away from the main street. Her hood was up, as were theirs. "The Malfoys have prisoners, beneath the manor. I'd been forbidden to go down there but an opportunity presented itself today."

The men listened with rapt attention. "Are they hurt?" Lupin asked. "How many are there?"

"Four," she whispered. "A goblin, Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood, and Ollivander the wandmaker. I brought them some food and only Wormtail interacts with them, at least now that it seems my father has no use for them. Magic transport won't work down there."

"And you can't release them without blowing your cover," Kingsley muttered. Sharlen nodded.

"I need some time," she urged them. "I have something I still need to do for Harry, but I can help you gather more—"

"Have you seen him?" Lupin interrupted urgently. Sharlen deflated and looked at the ground quietly. "You haven't heard from him still, yes?"

"I might know a way to…" she began, but she cleared her throat and shook her head. "I need a couple days to gather intel for you, a rescue can't be done while I'm away from the manor. It's too risky. I will have to be home and present, and you would have to face me alongside them if there's an altercation, so subdue me first if that happens. I just wanted you to be on your guard."

Lupin and Kingsley nodded. "We'll enlist Arthur Weasley, he's handled raids at the manor before. He is familiar with its intricacies," Kingsley said. "If you can find out about any meetings or comings and goings in the next week or so, we'll need to know about it. There's a chance we can enter from below…"

Sharlen nodded dutifully, her chest aching badly. Lupin stepped forward and kneeled before her, taking a gloved hand in both of his. "Sharlen, do you feel something's wrong with those three? Have you seen anything?"

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. "Luna told me to find Harry. She said he'd know what to do," she rifled off. "But I came to find you instead because it's too dangerous for him to get involved with this and even if he would want to help his friends he probably still doesn't want to see me—"

"Breathe, Sharlen, breathe," Kingsley instructed her, taking her shoulder. Sharlen got a powerful dose of deja vu, reminding herself of Stacey.

She nodded and took a breath. "Luna is clairvoyant as well," she told the men. "I feel like she means for me to find him now."

"Then you should try to go to him," Lupin said gently. He stood up next to Kingsley and gave her a confident little smile. "We will work on this and await further information from you. We can't risk blowing your ranks among the Death Eaters. Do what you have to do."

Nodding again as her eyes moved between Lupin and Kingsley, she unearthed the black book from its hiding place. Heart pounding, Sharlen closed the book and lay both her hands over the front cover to perform the locator spell.

A location came to her mind and she hesitated for several long moments. She glanced up at the men watching her before Apparating back to Malfoy Manor.

After a brief war with herself, she went back down to the kitchen, trying to act normal around the sparse inhabitants of the manor she encountered. Figuring she could use food as leverage if needed, Sharlen stole a roast chicken, another two loaves of bread, and as much fresh produce as she dared. Living in absolute abundance and preparing no food themselves, she was sure the Malfoys wouldn't even bat an eye. She hurriedly put all the food into her black bag, resealed it, and walked calmly back to her room. Then, she Apparated.