Note: As of January 2020 this chapter has been completely rewritten and plot points changed.

Chapter 5 ~ Fun with Smoke

"Life is foggy. Always try to see what lies behind."

~ Mehmet Murat Ildan


Acrid purple smoke curled beneath the door, stretching into the compartment like skeletal fingers. It hissed and sputtered as the air moved through the compartment, and with an oath Potter backpedaled away from it.

And then he had his wand drawn and aimed, snapping a spell that let loose a blast of concussive air that sent the smoke smashing backwards, pushing it back towards the door and away from them.

Kally's breath caught. She felt frozen, and a small, dim part of her mind shouted that this must be panic. "Wh-what is that?" she stammered.

"Nothing fucking good!" Potter cursed, snapping another spell in an attempt to shove the smoke back beneath the door.

He failed. Spectacularly. But to be fair trying to control literal air wasn't exactly easy.

Kally stood there, wand still aimed at Potter's head, her eyes glued to the smoke curling into the compartment near his feet. It was thick and murky, the purple color almost poisonous, and without thinking she made a small, upset sound.

Then she backpedaled all the way to the back of the compartment, her back striking the ebony wardrobe. The impact startled her almost as much as the loud THUMP from behind.

Hag Left began pounding viciously at the cupboard door.

Potter didn't notice. He was busy. His wand whipped around in a circular motion and did something to his head. A strange, opaque bubble popped around it, and all Kally could do was stare at him. He had a giant bubble around his skull, and all she could do was sodding stare. She leaned bonelessly against the wardrobe doors. She could feel the hag trapped inside pounding at them, pounding frantically at the other side with its fists, each smash reverberating up Kally's spine and sending her whole body jolting slightly as she simply stared at the unfolding scene.

Smoke poured in, stretching out into the room, reaching like tendrils of something noxious and deadly.

"God damn't," Potter muttered, casting a third and then a fourth spell at the smoke, ineffectively sending it swirling in a miniature cyclone as he attempted to herd it back towards the compartment door.

But it kept coming.

It just kept coming, pouring in from beneath the doorway like an unstoppable wave. It was rapidly filling the front half of the compartment, obscuring their view of the entry.

Potter chanced a glance back, caught sight of her just standing there, and about balked. "Are you kidding me? Kaylens move!"

Right.

Potter was right.

She had to move.

Lupin had asked her to stay back there, with the trapped hags, in case something happened.

Well, something was certainly happening now. With a fleeting glance towards the back, the exit to the compartment blocked by a pile of trunks, she realized they could probably escape that way if they just toppled the entire pile.

But that was the back of the train. After that, they'd have nowhere else to go.

It would also mean leaving the hags to the smoke.

Kally felt frozen, the wardrobe pressing firm to her back as she tried desperately to think. Potter was still casting spell after spell, bursts of air from his wand shoving the smoke back and back and back. She had to think.

If they were going to escape they couldn't just leave the hags. The hags were trapped, sealed into the wardrobes by magical wards and Kally hadn't the slightest idea on how to free them. But if they just left the smoke would crawl in and-

That made the decision easy.

It took a second for her legs to obey her brain's requests, but when they did Kally managed to move, darting towards the nearest window, grabbing at the latch and tugging for all she was worth. The English countryside rolled past outside, the moldy curtains flapping and getting in the way as she struggled with the latch.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She didn't bother to turn around. The sound of the gas hissed and sputtered as the air moved through the compartment, her fingers fumbling desperately for the locks.

"Kaylens, bubble head charm! Now!"

It wouldn't budge. It wouldn't budge! There'd be no way to get fresh air into the compartment if they didn't get the windows open. The hags in the wardrobes began to pound so fierce, so vicious that the wood actually splintered, Kally shouting, "I know! I know!" back at them.

She spun away from the window, glancing around. She caught sight of a smaller trunk, a metal one.

That would work.

She'd grabbed it, stumbling, but managed to heft it up.

A deep voice practically growled. "Oh for fucks sake…" Something Latin-sounding was snapped out, and a burst of air slammed into the back of her head, lifting her hair and sending it swirling around her face.

It took her a second of shocked blinking to realize that she was looking through a clear bubble, one now wrapped around her head. Still holding the trunk she blinked, then blinked again, and then she spun around to stare at Potter. He had conjured an opaque, flat wall in front of him, using it like a shield to push the smoke back and failing.

He didn't spare her a glance. "You're welcome!"

Heart racing in her chest she took a slow, testing breath. She could breathe. She could breathe inside this thing, this bubble on her head. "Thanks," she managed.

The dark haired wizard grunted.

Potter was busy, dropping the shield with a cuss, the wizard shrugging out of his cloak and tossing it in the general direction of the door, using magic in an attempt to blindly shove it beneath to damper the smoke pouring in.

The pace of it slowed, marginally. But by now the acrid purple smoke had completely filled a third of the compartment. Potter backed up, his expression contorted into something strained and serious as he held it at bay. Or tried.

Kally didn't wait. She turned back towards the window and with all the strength she had smashed the metal trunk against it. The sound was dull and hollow, the impact shooting up her arms. But it didn't break. Hissing a breath she tried again, and again.

Each time the impact was hollow, dull, the purple smoke now crawling across the ceiling like smoke from a fire.

"At risk," Potter snapped, breathless sounding, "of sounding like an ass," Kally smashed the window again, "what exactly are you doing?"

"Trying to get air in here!"

"You realize there's a perfectly good back exit, right?"

Her head whipped around to search for the back door. She didn't see it, not right away. What she did see was the outline of what might have been a door. It poked out just above a two meter high pile of very, very heavy looking trunks; trunks that were four deep and piled high in front of it, blocking it; trunks that could easily squash her.

As the train shook their contents rattled.

She whipped back around to send Potter an incredulous look. "Are you daft!? It's blocked by half a ton of trunks!"

Potter was so focused on driving back the smoke that he stumbled, stepping on and nearly slipping on a quill - an honest to goodness quill rolling across the floor. "Are you a witch or not? Move them!" he snapped, kicking it out of the way.

It bounced, flying up into the air-

A tendril of smoke shot out and clenched around it, yanking it back into the mist.

And then a loud snap was heard.

Followed by the sound of chomping.

Distinct, carnivorous chomping.

Both Potter and her stood there for a second, frozen.

And then Potter cussed, casting another spell that sent wind whipping through the compartment, slamming the smoke back. Kally charged the window again, only for the trunk to strike the glass and hold firm. It held so firm that she actually bounced back, stumbling and nearly tripping herself.

"How's that working out for you?" Potter quipped.

She made an angry sound. Her arms burned, her hair hung in her face, and she struggled to get a better hold on the small but heavy trunk as she glared at the window.

"Kaylens, move the damn trunks!" he snapped.

Her fingertips dug painfully around the trunk's edges and something in her chest twisted. He wanted her to move the other trunks, but she couldn't. She hesitated. Kally hesitated for far longer than she was proud to admit.

Potter jumped over a tentacle of smoke, the thing grazing the bottom of his shoe. He landed, hard.

She let out a shaky breath. "I-I can't."

"What do you mean you can't."

Again she hesitated. She struggled for a reason, grasping at nothing. She didn't have a reason, none that she could give. She tried to find one, to say anything other than I can't do magic, but came up empty.

And then the ebony wardrobe gave a loud shake.

The hags. Suddenly she had a reason. She might not know what Potter knew, but even if he didn't know about her, about the siren, about the mer-siblings on board, he at least knew about the flesh-hungry hags.

"We're not the only ones in here," she whispered. She glanced to him, fleetingly. His entire face was still scrunched in fierce concentration, but he grimaced noticeably.

But he didn't answer.

"Potter," she said, this time more urgently, "what are we supposed to do about them? We can't just let them out, they might..." she trailed off, not wanting to think about that possible outcome. "But if we leave them that smoke could get to them. Remus said-"

The wizard scoffed, darkly muttering, "Of course. Of course he fucking did."

The air continued trickling in, hissing and sputtering as it wormed its way around Potter's hastily fashioned barricade, his cloak doing little to deny the smoke entry, and Kally stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Wha-what's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me," he snapped bitterly. "You're the one that's suddenly best friends with him." A wisp of smoke lashed out like a tentacle, trying to snare at his ankle, and Potter jumped back with shocking speed. The smoke tentacle lashed out again, and again. It missed. Every. Single. Time.

Kally blinked in shock. "Oh my god…you're actually daft."

The glare he shot her was so scathing it was a wonder she didn't burst into flames on the spot. "Well the daft man's the only thing between us and friendly smoke, so will you get the damn widows open already?" He was firing spells so rapidly she could barely follow.

"Don't you have a spell that'll-"

"Are you kidding? It's the Hogwarts-fucking-Express."

"God damn't, Potte." Kally hefted the small trunk and charged the window yet again, striking it. The glass bowed out then sprang back, the rebound physically shoving the trunk back into her stomach, Kally grunting and stumbling three steps back.

She'd hit the window with a heavy metal trunk, and it'd done nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Her hair hung in her face and she hissed at it. She hissed at it like a sodding snake.

"Told ya," Potter muttered. "Hogwarts-fucking-Express."

Now she hissed at him. "What is that supposed to even mean?!"

Potter jumped over a trunk and dodged another smoky tendril, sparing a half second from his fight with literal air to shoot her an aghast look. "It means wand happy eleven year olds who don't know what they're doing fire off spells accidentally all the time. All glass is warded against spell damage and easy breakage." Ducking, he added, "How do you not know this?"

Now it was her turn to shoot him an aghast look. "Is right now seriously the time?!"

His wand flew in a diagonal slash. "Why? You taking appointments?"

She called him a name that would have had her in detention for weeks.

Potter just snorted. "Pleasant as always I see."

Right. She seriously contemplated tossing the trunk at him, preferably in the general direction of his head, but given how thick skulled he was she doubted it'd do much good. "Alright oh socialite, what's your bright idea?"

"Aim for the sides and corners."

The train continued to rumble along. "What?"

"The weakest point in windows is usually the corners," he bit impatiently. "Hit there and it should shatter." A purple billow puffed out with violent intent, a blast of air from Potter's wand smashing it back. "Your listening skills suck, by the way."

Kally decided not to respond. She just glanced at the window again and hefting the small trunk, ran at it. Again. Only this time she aimed.

And this time the corner of the trunk hit the far edge of the widow.

Hard.

It crunched, spider web veins shooting out across the glass in a thousand separate paths before shattering into a thousand sparkling pieces that littered the ground like glitter.

There wasn't even time to be triumphant that it worked, or pissed that Potter had had the right idea.

Instead the rush of the wind from outside struck her directly in the face, the sudden vacuum created by the new hole in the side of the compartment pulling the smoke away from Potter and out towards the window.

And she was still standing right in front of it.

It rushed at her like a freight train.

Kally dropped the trunk and tried to dart away-

She wasn't fast enough.

Potter, however, was.

Something struck her in the back, hard. An invisible rope wrapped around her waist like a vice and jerked her backwards, sending her flying until she crashed into something. They tumbled to the ground, crashing into no less than three trunks on the way.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Laying there in a tangled mass of limbs and clothing, one of the trunks having fallen open on top of them, Kally winced.

And then the thing she'd crashed into grunted.

That thing was Potter.

Kally was still getting her bearings when Potter moved, and moved fast. He shoved her unceremoniously off him, knocking her into another trunk, the wizard rolling over, his wand whipping up to angle threateningly at the smoke now being sucked out of the room.

Alarm bells went off in her head, but…

Nothing happened.

For a long, tense moment nothing happened. Potter kept his wand leveled at the smoke, gaze hard as iron, the wizard unyielding, but it made no move to attack again. The smoke was now being suctioned out the window, but that was temporary. It wouldn't last. That much was obvious. Soon there'd be too much filling the room for it to all escape out a single broken window.

And still, it was eerily quiet, only the rumbling sound of the train chugging along the tracks and the sound of the wind present.

The tension drained right out of her. "Ugh…." Kally winced, her shoulder throbbing and sending lancing pain shooting down her entire arm, all the way to the tips of her fingers.

Potter spared her a half glance, for a half second looking almost concerned, before he clambered to a knee, eyes sharp as knives as he surveyed the room at large.

Kicking a trunk out of the way and shoving a cloak with a blue crest off her, she used her good arm to shove herself into a sitting position.

And then her breath caught.

Unseen, on the other side of the pile of trunks they'd toppled over, was a coiling, twisting river of smoke. It tumbled over the floor like watery clouds or thick fog, flying out the gaping hole in the window. It was like sitting too close to a raging river's edge, dangerously near falling in, and with a startled sound she scrambled back, away from it, until her back knocked solidly into another wall of trunks.

Though Potter didn't look her way, he did snort. "Not terribly good in a crisis are you?"

Her eyes shot to his back, his shoulders firm and squared, and glared. "Now I'm really not saying thank you."

"Fuck, I'm surprised you know the words." Spotting the look she sent, he added, "What? I'm still waiting on a 'thank you for saving my ass from Borgins', but that's not coming anytime soon either, is it?"

"Funny that," she snapped. "Given you were eavesdropping on me reckoned I'd be getting an apology."

He flat out snorted. "Unlikely."

She could have hissed, but didn't. Instead she glanced towards the gaping hole in the window, glass littering the ground beneath. Shattered glass. "How'd you know that would work?"

"Cousin's a delinquent," he muttered tersely. "Him and his friends like to shatter glass on abandoned cars. Tempered glass breaks that way."

"Oh."

He planted a hand flat against the ground, shoving himself up and clambering the rest of the way to his feet, gaze still focused on the smoke. "We need to do something about this," he muttered. Dark green eyes shifted towards the wardrobes, then back down to her. He looked conflicted, for a second, grimacing hard, and then…

"They're both in there, yeah?"

It was as if he'd come to a silent decision to talk about the 'things' in the room neither of them had been willing to before.

With a breath she gave a slight nod.

He stood there, looking like he was thinking, and thinking hard. "Great," he muttered, "just great."

"Which part?" she asked. "The air with tentacles or the 'needing to protect' things that might sooner eat us than actually allow that?"

Both hags thumped loudly in their wardrobes, a high pitched growl coming from the left.

Potter shot both furnishings a glare. "We can't let them out. Even if they decide not to eat us, hags don't do well in sunlight. Denatures their proteins or some shit."

Strangely the idea of letting them out and leaving Potter to their hungry claws seemed appealing. "Well, you can. Close the curtains. I'll just sneak out the back first. Scream if they try to eat you."

Now it was his turn to shoot her a look.

Shoving her hair out of her eyes, she sighed. "Fine, what do you suggest?"

"I'm thinking."

The smoke coiled closer, Kally eyeing it worriedly. "Think faster."

Potter's jaw set, voice gruff and low. "We're going to have to break more windows."

"Lovely."

With a flick of his wand the trunk next to her flew up into the air, levitating. It hung above her head for a moment, suspended, and then-

Another slash of his wand sent it smashing into the corner of another far window, the glass in that one shattering out with a crinkling crash.

Half the smoke got pulled towards that new opening. It was instant. It divided the thick mist straight through the center, like a plane cutting through clouds.

And now they could see the compartment door, and the heavy smoke rolling in around the edges of Potter's crushed up cloak.

Kally hastily shoved herself up. "You could have done that the whole time?" Her head whipped towards him. "Why the hell didn't you just do that before?"

Potter froze, mid-levitation of a third trunk. "Did you or did you not miss that whole 'I was keeping the smoke from strangling us' thing?"

Her mouth opened in argument, only to realize she didn't have one.

The self-satisfied smirk on Potter's face had her rather wanting to slap him.

A flick of his wand sent trunk three careening into a corner of a third window, smashing the hell out of that one too.

It wasn't until the seventh window had been smashed out that noises in the outer corridor could be heard.

And it sounded like fighting.


ECOTS


The rear door of the train slammed closed behind them.

"Potter-"

Harry ignored her, lifting his wand and hoping he remembered that 'levitation stacking charm' Hermione had tried to teach he and Ron last year correctly. Back then they'd been practicing on books. Right now his targets were considerably heavier. And if he recalled correctly this had bee the spell he'd screwed up and accidentally knocked Dean out with.

"Potter, I don't think-"

"Will you shut up?" His teeth ground in hard concentration. "Because if I don't get these trunks re-stacked they're going to know exactly where we went and that kind of fucks the whole 'element of surprise' chance we might have."

Kaylens' mouth snapped shut, Harry not even noticing.

There had been fighting in the hallway.

A lot of fighting.

And then the smoke, that acrid purple smoke had turned all of its tentacles back in the direction of the compartment door, looking like a curious animal inspecting a new visitor.

Two seconds later those tentacles had darted back underneath that door, the smoke rapidly vanishing from the compartment.

That disappearance had been followed by the distinct sound of bubblehead charms being popped, one-by-one.

The subsequent thuds had told Harry all he'd needed to know: the smoke had just helped approaching Death Eaters get rid of the defenders, and the smoke could pop bubblehead charms.

Great.

Just. Fucking. Great.

Harry'd thrown obscuring and locking charms at the doorway in quick succession, snapping at Kaylens to start moving the trunks away from the rear door. And the witch had, by hand.

He was pretty positive he'd all but barked at her to stand the hell back, and it had taken another three seconds of spell work on his part to knock the trunks away, clearing their escape. Harry had wrenched the back door open and all but threw Kaylens and her useless ass out onto the rickety back, end-platform, all the while snarling something about her shoddy spell-work.

Strangely she'd been oddly silent about that.

But now she suddenly wanted to talk, and that was annoying as hell. She was opening her mouth to no doubt suggest something sweet and pleasant when he silenced her with a single look.

"Kaylens," he said, damn serious, "I have about thirty seconds before those Death Eaters break their way into that" he jabbed his wand at the closed door to indicate where they'd just been, "compartment, and if they see a bunch of toppled trunks they are going to know we're back here, and if that happens not only are the hags fucked but we are fucked. So either start helping or shut the hell up so I can concentrate."

Once more her mouth snapped shut, only this time an angry blaze had entered her eyes.

Harry didn't have time to apologize. Instead he concentrated on the stacking charm, snapping the spell out and hoping like hell it would work.

Judging from the quick burst of air from his wand's end, the spell shooting through the window and sending the dozens of knocked over trunks stacking neatly up, the pile of trunks now blocking the door they'd just come through, it had.

Right.

Good.

He was almost surprised. Hell, maybe he'd actually thank Hermione for the lessons later. But right now…

At least there wouldn't be direct evidence that anyone had been in the compartment and gone out the back way. This gave him a few more seconds to think.

Harry took a step back and assessed the situation.

The rickety metal grate of the end platform rattled beneath him in a deeply disturbing manner. Harry shot a suspicious glance down, the ground and railroad tracks rushing beneath his feet not a meter below where he stood. Glancing to his left and right, he surveyed their options.

Right now he and Kaylens were outside the train, standing on the end platform. It was the tiny, deck-like protrusion that stuck off the caboose of the train. It had stairs on either end of it that people could use to board and de-board when the caboose was being used like a regular compartment instead of storage. To their backs stretched the British countryside, above them was a ladder leading to the train's roof, and in front of them was the now blockaded door to that same caboose the hags were in.

The unfortunate problem was this platform gave Harry maybe four meters to move back and forth along, and it was only about a meter and a half feet wide.

No, not much room for fighting at all. And if either of them dropped their wands they'd fall straight through the metal grate and get crushed by the train tracks.

Fuck.

And now he could barely see into the back compartment. The back windows and door were now blocked by trunks piled high, and he could only see through tiny slits between the trunks. Harry shoved his face up against the glass and squinted. Kaylens came up alongside him, eyeing him strangely, before pressing her face to the glass as well to-

The compartment door was opening, a hooded figure emerging.

Harry all but shoved Kaylens back against the outer wall of the caboose, the wizard right behind her. "Fuck," he muttered. It was the word of the day. It was the grand fucking word of the day. Air whipped around them, rustling his shirt and sending Kaylens hair swirling around her head.

Naturally it smacked him right in the face.

Harry batted it down, spitting it out while he contemplated dark things. Dark fucking things involving her, her head of strangely nice tasting hair, and a pair of scissors.

Very sharp scissors.

The train rounded a turn and her hair smacked him straight across the face. Again.

"Will you do something with that?!" he hissed, keeping his voice low.

She winced. "Sorry."

He grunted in response, batting more down. "Sure you're not part hag?" The things were notoriously long-haired, and right now hers was waving around her head like a golden flag hell bent on attracting Death Eater attention.

She hissed at him.

Actually hissed.

Then Kaylens was squirming, tying her hair back, having conjured a scrunchie out of nowhere. "I really don't like you," she hissed quietly.

"Yeah well," he muttered, "get in line."

The platform's grate rattled beneath their feet, pebbles kicked up by the train's wheels clinking off it. "Do we even have a plan? Because this seems pretty ill-advis-"

"Yeah well, maybe if you'd helped get us out of there I wouldn't have had to rush."

She opened her mouth to invariably hiss something scathing back, but movement caught his eye. Harry moved quicker than he thought possible and slapped a hand over her mouth. She stiffened, her mouth under his palm, but what might have sent him into a dry-mouthed stammer a week ago didn't. Because she was right: they really didn't like each other.

Catching her eyes and holding them for a half second, he saw understanding flashing through her oddly bright irises. They were a strange hazel-gold in the direct sunlight, like a sodding cat's. He held them for a second too long, mouthing, Be quiet.

Under his hand she managed a small nod.

Dropping his hand, slowly, his gaze shifted, narrowing through the glass of the blocked back window. Through it and through the tiny space between the stacked trunks Harry could see five figures cloaked all in black walking straight for the wardrobes.

The wardrobes holding the hags.

Hags that Lupin had been crystal clear about needing to be kept away from Voldemort. Harry might not have understood all the nuances of why these particular hags were so special, but Hermione had, and that's all he needed to know.

And none of the figures looked particularly tall or large. Just the one, and that one mostly looked husky.

Goyle.

Which meant…

Rage sliced through him, something dark and twisted coiling through his blood. "Can you hex?" he demanded without looking at her.

Kaylens' mouth opened, as if wanting to say something, before thinking better of it. It snapped shut. Her eyes shot from him to the window, then back. "You can't seriously be thinkin-"

"You obviously talked to Lupin," he bit. "We can't let them take those hags."

Small wisps of hair that had escaped the witch's ponytail flew around her face, the girl just staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. "We're outnumbered, Potter. What exactly do you think we can do?"

His teeth about ground. "I've had worse."

"Then you're an idiot," she snapped quietly. "You don't attack unless you know you can win!"

He snorted. "How very Slytherin of you."

Kaylens brow creased as if confused, and the train rumbled around them. It was loud outside, with the sound of the rushing wind beating against their ears, the metal grate beneath them rattling, and the screeching rumbling sound of the turbines and wheels flying over the steel railroad tracks barely a meter below. Their lowered voices and hisses were more like whispered shouts.

Kaylens quietly spoke in another one of those whisper shouts. "There's four of them," she said slowly and carefully, as if trying to teach an invalid how to count, "and two of us. Those aren't good odds."

Now his brow creased, his eyebrows drawing heavily down over his eyes. "How do you know there's four of them?"

He hadn't seen her squint through the glass like he was. Hell, he hadn't even been certain she'd been paying attention.

Something cold slid over him. "Kaylens what the hel-"

She practically rolled her eyes. "You've been ticking them off on your fingers imbecile."

He froze.

Then his fingers snapped together, forming a fist as he realized she was right.

He hadn't even been aware he was doing that.

The witch gave a sarcastic little smile, then hunkered down below the windows. "I'm not good at hexing, alright? So I don't think going in blazing is a particularly good idea. Not unless you can take out all of them yourself."

He was still staring at her, and without thinking he lowered himself down, one knee digging against the metal grate. "Is there anything you're good at?" Because so far he'd see her do jack shit.

"You are such an-"

"Save it," he muttered, glancing towards the window. "We don't have time." He needed Ron and Hermione here. He needed them here because at least then he'd have help. He could count on them. He could always count on them.

Sometimes he wished he couldn't; they'd be safer that way.

It didn't matter. Without a word he got back up, keeping his body low to avoid attracting attention. He moved slowly along the platform, looking through cracks in the stacked up trunks, trying to assess the situation, racking his mind for what to do.

Light charms, levitation charms, and shit like that worked perfectly fine through doorways and glass, but he had no idea what a stunning of blasting hex would do. He imagined it'd shatter the glass and send the trunks blasting inwards, and there'd be no guarantee that'd take any of them out.

But he knew, he knew Malfoy was in there. There were student Death Eaters on board, Lupin had said so, and if they were there then Malfoy sure as fuck was one of them.

And one cloaked figure was tall and lanky, just like Malfoy.

"Malfoy…" he muttered, drawing his wand.

Kaylens eyed him strangely. "What?"

He could see a tiny bit of the room at this angle, and the Death Eaters were approaching the black wardrobe, trying spell after spell to get it to open. Shit…they'd get it open eventually. He didn't have a choice.

"Kaylens either get your wand out and use it," he muttered, "or get down and close your eyes." Because there was going to be shattering glass. Lots of it. He began to raise his wand-

A hand snared him by the wrist and shoved it down. "Potter, stop!"

He shot her a seriously annoyed look. "Get out of the way, Kaylens."

Tiny wisps of her hair battered about her face, her loose ponytail flying in the wind, but her expression did not waver. "No."

"I can't let them get the hags, Kaylens."

"You're going to get us killed."

Something strange was in her expression, something he couldn't quite identify. But right now he didn't care, because people like Malfoy, people like every single Death Eater in a damn cowl were responsible for Sirius being dead. Dead, not even buried, and still considered a criminal by each and every single lemming of the wizarding world. It was their fault, not his, and he was sick of being asked to stand down and wait while the Order kept fucking up and Voldemort kept winning.

With a hard shrug of his shoulder he shook her off. "Get the fuck down, Kaylens," he said, turning back to the window. They hadn't seen them yet. They had the element of surprise. They-

That was as far as he got.

He felt something hard and pointed jab into his back, and a single word hit his ears before a large shock shook him.

Then everything went black.


ECOTS


Tonks threw herself to the ground with all the subtlety of a charging rhino.

"Tonks!" Kingsley shouted. "You alr-"

"I'm clear!" she tossed back. "Remus, did you-"

"I'm good!"

He sounded rather calm, given the situation.

They'd been patrolling the corridors, looking for anything suspicious, when the entire train body had given a disturbing little shudder.

And then clouds and clouds of acrid purple smoke had begun to pour down the hallway, rolling towards them like a tsunami that hadn't been polite enough to stay in the ocean where it belonged. Mundungus had been with them as well, only the thieving man hadn't been quite as quick as the rest of them to get out of its way.

Nope.

Instead one of the tentacles had shot out from the purple mist, wrapped itself around the unscrupulous wizard's ankle, and jerked him straight down to the ground.

Then it had ruthlessly curled its end up in an uncanny impersonation of a scorpion's stinger and stabbed straight down, striking the bubblehead charm around Fletcher's head.

It had popped with a loud crack.

Then it had given Mundungus' body a decisive yank, dragging him over the floor and into the mist, where his bald head had promptly disappeared.

And then Tonks had heard a snore.

A very loud, distinctive snore.

The purple fog was sleeping mist. Very thick, very potent, and very angry sleeping mist.

It was also weaponized and hell bent on popping the bubbles of anyone wearing a bubblehead charm. Soon all of the Hogwarts Express would be sleeping while the Death Eaters 'did their thing'.

It really was quite brilliant.

Which explained why she had just thrown herself to the ground to avoid one of those tentacles.

"It's sleeping mist!" Kingsley shouted.

"No shit!" she said, already scrambling back to her feet. "Thank you for that stellar, life-changing update, oh Auror Overlord."

She couldn't be certain, but she was pretty positive that Kingsley had growled in her direction.

Actually growled.

She paused, eyeing him with naked confusion. "I thought growling was the wolf's thing?"

Remus uttered a cuss that sounded oddly like her name, casting a spell that sent the mist recoiling away like a wounded pup. "Any chance we could discuss what our plan is?" he suggested, glancing back down the train aisle. "Because we're running out of hallway."

He was right, they were.

Tonks levelled her wand in that direction, letting Kingsley and Remus deal with the approaching fog. "They're obviously trying to knock the whole train out so they can-"

"We know what they're doing, Nymphadora," Kingsley interrupted, albeit a bit tersely. "No need to broadcast confirmation to anyone still awake."

She practically rolled her eyes. "I was going to say 'get away with what they were doing' and be non-specific oh King-o-Mine. Honestly I'm not a trainee anymore."

"Barely."

She ignored him, sauntering down the hall she cleared each and every single compartment. They were all, oddly, empty. "Isn't the train usually packed?" She glanced back to them. "All these compartments are empty."

Remus grimaced, his wand flying back and forth and generating an interesting wall of air that pushed back the smoke with pinpoint precision. "The Death Eaters initiating this attack are supposed to be students. Undoubtedly older students if they were able to brew the potion that makes this fog," he gestured at the attacking smoke. "It's quite a complex bit of brewing." He flicked his wand and sent a swirl of smoke into an empty compartment. "I think it's safe to assume they used their seniority to stake claim to these compartments at the start of the trip. They most likely grouped the younger years near where the smoke was released, or found…other measures to encourage the ones that did not listen to relocate."

Tonks snorted. "Other methods. Bullying at its finest."

"It would get them out of the way quicker," Kingsley said.

"Like it matters," she said. "We weren't expecting this so we weren't prepared." And that was an understatement; one hell of an understatement. It was such an understatement that neither Remus or Kingsley had a sarcastic word to add.

They just jumped right to damage control.

"Alright, so priorities four, five and six are in smoke-infected areas," Remus said, referring to the Mermish twins and the part siren. "We can't get to them without being knocked out ourselves."

"Then they're already gone," Kingsley said with a note of finality. "We get to priorities one and two."

Priorities. They were calling living, breathing beings priorities. They'd agreed earlier to refer to them this way, to avoid any identifying factors in case they were overheard, but now it just seemed cold and sterile. Tonks felt a chill crawl up her spine, wondering what number she'd be assigned if it came down to it.

After all, she was considered not fully human given her morphing ability. It was unnatural, rare, and Snape had already warned the Order that Voldemort would want people like her.

Remus sent another burst of hot air at the smoke, before glancing back at her. "You should apparate out, Tonks."

Great, not only was Remus Lupin hot as hell, but he was also a mind reader. Tonks cursed the universe for creating a specimen that perfect and glared. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Tonks, given the circumstances," Kingsley said, "I believe he's right. If we're all unconscious we can't defend you as well and if they take you too-"

Tonks shook her head and scowled. "I told you we should have just found a compartment to snog in, Remus. Really, I could have made you positively howl." Spotting a tendril of smoke sneaking up on Kingsley she shot a spell of her own out, adding, "It'd have been a lot more fun than this."

"Nymphadora Tonks, you are on duty. Now is hardly the time-"

"Yeah, yeah Kingsley," she muttered. "You keep telling me these things-"

"Not to stalk people?"

Tonks smacked against the end of the aisle, officially out of room to move. "Is it really stalking if they enjoy it?"

That little vein in Kingsley's forehead bulged. "Remus doesn't enjoy it."

"So you say."

Through the bubblehead charm Kingsley's left eye appeared to be twitching.

"You do realize," Remus said, still sounding strangely calm, "I am standing right here and can hear you?"

"See Kingsley? How could I not stalk that? He's a man that actually listens to a gal. Do you have any idea how hard that is to find?"

Kingsley began saying a prayer to past Auror heads. It sounded rather like he was requesting the strength to not throttle her.

Tonks simply huffed a breath, cursed all men to the fifth of Dante's hellish circles, congratulated herself on her future celibacy while she waited for Remus to pull his head out of his arse, and forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. "So, who's guarding priorities one through three?" she demanded with all the grace of someone who clearly wasn't getting any.

Both Remus and Kingsley jumped. They were such smart, observant men.

"Well?" she snapped.

Now Remus just grimaced. "Harry." He paused, seeming to hesitate. "But he doesn't know he's guarding priority three."

Kingsley's dark head spun to stare at the werewolf with large eyes. "You didn't tell him?"

"That's not my call to make."

"Remus that girl could-"

"She isn't going to hurt anyone," he said, and his calm voice dropped about thirty degrees. "Now if you wouldn't mind, I'm trying to transfigure something to help our situation: like an impenetrable wall. So if you wouldn't mind?"

Tonks knew a conversation ender when she heard it. Remus was pissed. Kingsley might be open-minded, but he still had some wizarding fears left in him, ones that Remus obviously didn't hold.

To be honest, Tonks couldn't blame either of them. That girl was dangerous, to herself and others, and Remus, well…

He'd dealt with people hating him for who he was, for something he couldn't help, nearly his entire life. She completely grasped why he identified with 'priority three'.

But just because she grasped his empathizing, it didn't negate that Kingsley had a very, very good reason to be concerned. 'Priority three' was a species that couldn't do traditional magic, at all, and this particular one was older, had no training, and could wind up cornered.

It was like handing a fully grown witch or wizard, one who had never had any magical training, a wand and throwing them into a pit with a dark creature that was trying to kill them.

They were just asking for an obscurus-type situation, she swore to Merlin.

And she really, really didn't like that Harry had been left alone with that girl.

Tonks spun around and opened the door leading to the next car, only to see that it too had been filled completely with smoke. "Shit," she muttered. "Shit, shit, steaming piles of gross shite."

"That can't be good," Remus muttered.

"It's not," Kingsley said, having already seen the problem. "We're trapped between two walls of smoke."

Tonks slammed the door shut and cast an imperturbable charm on it, quickly transfiguring the door so that it lengthened, fusing with the floor and ceiling with all the effectiveness of a master craftsman.

It created a barrier that would prevent the other car's smoke from infiltrating this car.

Problem was it also trapped them.

They had about four meters of room between their new dead-end and the wall of smoke ruthlessly hunting them. She spun around. "Any ideas?"

"Yes," Kingsley said. "Change into another appearance. If you're insisting on staying we need to make sure no one can recognize you once you're knocked unconscious."

"If Kingsley. If I'm knocked unconscious." Her hair was already lengthening and changing to a dirty blonde. "Merlin you're fatalistic."

"You can hold a morph when unconscious?" Remus sounded mildly impressed.

"That's not all I can do, Wolfy." She waggled her eyebrows, looking around for options. Auror rule number eight: you were never out of options.

Right now they had a wall of very angry purple smoke headed their way, smoke that would force them to sleep for a few hours. The windows in the car aisle didn't open and couldn't exactly be broken easily, and backpedaling into the other car was no longer an option. Crowding into one of these vacant compartments wouldn't be a good idea either; it'd just trap them.

They could try apparating to another part of the train, but the problem was if they apparated blindly to another section, only to find that the section was already filled with smoke, they were guaranteed to get knocked out.

The end of each car had a door on it, leading out of the train and to three small stairs that allowed students to load the train and disembark it, but unless they fancied going outside and going splat on the ground – and the ground was rushing past them rather fast – that wasn't a good idea either.

Double shit.

"Tonks," Kingsley started.

"I'm thinking!" she countered. "Mostly about Remus' fine ass but-"

"Tonks," Remus practically groaned, "we don't have time for your childish come on's-"

"Childish!?" She sounded scandalized. "This is our sex life we're talking about!"

Remus made a choking sound. "We don't have a sex life."

"Exactly," she said, spotting that other option she'd missed and rushing to it. "That's what I'm trying to fix! As soon as I get this bloody thing…" She gave the door another hard yank, it finally opening and letting in a powerful rush of air.

"Tonks! GET THE HELL BACK IN HE-"

That was all she heard of Kingsley's rising blood pressure, because the moment she opened the door it created a suction-like tube, pulling all the smoke straight past Remus' wind-barrier and out the open doorway.

It flew past her, puncturing her bubblehead charm and smashing over her mouth like an assassin well-trained in the use of chloroform-soaked rags.

As Tonks fell forward she felt strong hands grabbing at her, the entire world increasing in pressure, like she was being squeezed through a very small, very fast-moving tube.


ECOTS


"You've got to be kidding me."

Those were the first words that infiltrated his skull, his head throbbing and the entire world seeming to spin. Curious. He seemed to remember it not being something that typically spun.

"Ron, give her a chance to explain. We don't know the circumstan-"

"She bloody well attacked Harry, 'Mione! What else do we need to know?!"

"Well I still think you should have at least let her explain before stunning her."

"Explain? Do you not see Lupin and Tonks? She got them too!"

"We don't know that's what happene-"

"The hell we don't!"

There was a huff, followed by the sound of enervate being cast three times in a row. "Well lucky us, because we can just ask her."

From off to the side came a quiet, feminine sounding groan, and Harry swiftly and immediately tried to ignore how nice it sounded. Mainly because he knew who it was, and he rather wanted to kick them.

Not to mention every inch of him hurt. He'd taken Quidditch beatings lighter than this. With a quiet groan he muttered, "Alright…which one of you got me with the bludger?"

Before he'd even managed to open his eyes there was a relieved exclamation of, "HARRY!" followed by a crushing weight on his chest and a knotted, bushy mess of hair in his face.

He coughed, trying to spit it out, and found himself awkwardly patting Hermione on the back. "Er…hi."

Ron just snorted, sounding smug. "See? You were worried she'd done something to him."

"I can hear you…" Kaylens muttered.

"Oh good," Harry groaned, "you're here."

She made a small dying sound. "I hate you so much…"

Giving Hermione's back one last pat he shoved her away, Hermione leaning back to sit on her calves, his best friend eyeing him worriedly.

Harry took a second to get his bearings: the purple smoke was gone and he was somehow back inside the rear train compartment – it looked like Somalian pirates had sacked it; Hermione was there, sitting on the ground with him; Ron seemed to be standing guard; Kaylens lay on the ground not a few meters off, her hair a damn mess; and Remus was propped up against one of the trunks, his head lolled to the side, clearly unconscious.

And there was a blonde with her head in his lap, the unrecognizable witch wearing a drugged, sleepy grin that promised nothing but trouble.

She also appeared to be purring in her sleep.

Harry shook his head, dispelling that image, and felt the floor rumble gently beneath his back. The train was clearly still moving. They hadn't stopped. And-

His gaze shot to the rear of the compartment, and his blood went cold.

Both wardrobes stood with their doors wide opened, the part-hags clearly gone.

They were gone.

And he could have stopped it.

A surge of white hot anger flooded him.

"Harry, mate, you alright?" Ron asked. His friend didn't so much as glance back, keeping his wand trained at the doors, but hell, his best mate did at least sound mildly concerned.

Harry shoved himself up off the ground gingerly. "Friggin' stellar."

Kaylens rolled onto her back and coughed.

He ignored her, looking around the decimated compartment. "Well," he muttered, "that went smashingly. Now if Voldemort stops by the day will be complete."

Hermione glanced between him and Ron, shooting a slightly wary glance towards Kaylens. "Harry, what exactly happened?"

"Fuck if I know." Which was fairly true, given the state of the compartment. The last time he'd seen it, it'd just been dusty with some toppled trunks. Now half of those trunks had been blown in half.

"I meant," Hermione said carefully, "what happened to you, Harry."

Ah, that.

He couldn't help it, he flat out snorted. "What? It's not obvious?" Harry sat there for a second and waited for the room to stop spinning. "Kaylens there took it upon herself to stun me. You know, because stopping masked assholes who are trying to abduct other people isn't important to her. Curious, isn't it? Really, makes me wonder if she isn't working for them."

From by the door Ron let out a deeply disturbing snarl.

Hermione just bit down on her lower lip, as if thinking very, very hard about something. Then she glanced towards Kaylens, asking, "Is that true?"

The witch lay flat on the ground and made zero effort to move, instead blowing a strand of hair irritatedly out of her face. "Which part?" she muttered. "The 'I stunned him' or the 'I don't care about abduction' or the 'I'm in cahoots'?" She heaved a sigh. "Because really, there's so many accusations to choose from."

Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, only Harry beat her to it.

"How about all of it?" he demanded savagely.

Kaylens closed her eyes and muttered something beneath her breath.

"Sorry," he bit, "couldn't catch that."

"Just fantasizing about stunning you again." She paused, cracking her hazel eyes to look at Hermione. "Really, you should try it. It's downright cathartic."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.

Ron spun his wand in hand. "See? She just admitted it. Now can we tie her up? When Tonks wakes up she can dump her on the Ministry's doorstep for us and the Wizengamut'll take care of the rest."

At Ron's words Kaylens eyes flew wide open, and because he was looking he didn't miss it.

There was a fleeting look of panic on her face.

It disappeared as soon as it'd come, but the witch had scrambled to a sitting position, no longer content to lay there and look serene. Instead her eyes had fixed onto Ron like hard pieces of stone, her tone tight. "If I hadn't stunned him," she said flatly, "he'd have gotten himself killed."

He bristled. "The hell I would-"

Her face whipped around to glare at him. "We were outnumbered, Potter! And you didn't have a clear shot of anyof them."

"Yes," he bit through clenched teeth, "I did."

"Through the window? Through the glass window?" she asked, incredulous. "Hadn't you just finished telling me that attack spells don't go through glass? That the windows are all spelled against that on the Hogwarts Express, or did I hallucinate that part of the conversation?"

Hermione's lips parted into an understanding 'o'.

Harry's fists had already clenched and his mouth opened to argue, before he realized he didn't have an actual answerfor that.

Because she was right.

Well, shit.

At the time he hadn't thought of that.

Not that he was going to admit that to her.

"Well at least I was doing something," he countered, abandoning the dusty floor and getting to his feet. "What were you doing? Standing around and just letting the hags get taken?" He gestured angrily at the now empty wardrobes. "Now he has them. Do you have any idea what he'll do with them?!"

Kaylens had collapsed against the nearest trunk, looking rather exhausted. That fire in her eyes, that blazing annoyance had disappeared, the witch suddenly looking anywhere but at him. And that…

That wouldn't do. Not at all.

"Well?" he demanded. "Do you!?"

Hermione let out a quiet sigh. "Harry, I think maybe she was just trying to-"

"Not to be rude," he bit, "but maybe she could answer for herself, Hermione."

Kaylens closed her eyes and let out a tired, frustrated-sounding breath. "My apologies, Potter. Next time we're grossly outnumbered I'll just let you attract their attention so you can get killed." She cracked her eyes, sending him a glare. "I'll just jump off the back to get out of the way first. Tuck and roll, and all that. Leave you to it."

Now Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "Could one of you just please explain what exactly happe-"

"We were both back here and we heard fighting in the hall," Harry interrupted. "We went out back so we could get the drop on them. Element of surprise. Then the masks showed up and when I went to stop them she-"

"She hexed him in the back," Kaylens said, running a hand through her long hair in frustration. Catching his sharp look, she met it unblinkingly. "And I'm not apologizing. You'd have drawn their attention and gotten all four of us killed."

Ron grunted. "Harry could have handled it."

Harry had to agree; he could have. "You didn't do a damn thing, Kaylens. Not one thing to help. Instead you stopped me and just let them get away wit-"

"I think what he's attempting to communicate here," Hermione interceded, holding up a hand to get him to stop talking, "is he thinks it might have been…polite if you'd tried to help a bit more. Isn't that right, Harry?"

He shot her a withering look.

Hermione glared right back. "Harry James Pot-"

"Yeah sure," he said, tone dry as ice. "Exactly what I was saying."

An unlit lantern rattled from its hinges, the four conscious parties all silent for a long moment. Kaylens appeared to be eyeing Remus and Tonks with a bit of concern, but it was Harry who broke the silence.

He broke it because as much as he wanted to throttle Kaylens right then, he still couldn't shake that fearful look he'd caught in her eyes.

Rubbing the back of his neck, frustrated, he reached his free hand down to Hermione to help her up. "So, care to explain what happened? And how you and Ron aren't knocked out with the rest of the train?"

Ron answered for her. "Scooby, Harry."

"He means SCUBA." Hermione grasped his hand and let him tug her up, rolling her eyes. Harry just sent her a confused look, mouthing, SCUBA?

The brunette smiled self-consciously. "Yes well, the fog was popping all the bubblehead charms."

"But SCUBA?"

"What is that anyway?" Ron asked. "There were all kinds of…" He waved his hands at his head, miming a tube connecting to his mouth. "Tubes and stuff."

Hermione sighed, now standing. "Self-contained underwater breathing apparatus, Ron. You don't need any air from the outside environment in order to breathe, and unlike a bubblehead charm that fog couldn't puncture the helmets so we," she put emphasis on the word, "didn't fall asleep like the rest of the train."

Harry just stared at her. Just stared.

Sometimes, just sometimes he forgot how bloody brilliant she was. "Hermione that's…that's ingenious."

His best friend shifted on her feet, awkward. "The transfiguration really wasn't that difficult…"

Ron snorted. "Not that difficult? You were babbling about converting air to the right oxygen-nitrogen mix and putting it into a compressed canister. You said it'd explode if you got it-"

"So maybe it was a little difficult," Hermione admitted.

"Yeah, and Harry fighting that Hungarian Horntail was easy."

Harry looked from her to Ron, temporarily forgetting about everything else as his eyes landed on the closed compartment door. A ton of trunks had been piled in front of it, Ron and Hermione having clearly barricaded it. "And the others? The rest of the train?"

Ron's face went hard. "We cracked every window we passed and enervated the conductor and every Order member we came across. Kingsley, Mad Eye and McGonagall are with the conductor now. Most of the train's still knocked out cold."

"And the Death Eaters?"

Hermione shook her head. "We never saw any, Harry."

He closed his eyes and cursed. "What about Malfoy? Did anyone see him?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "No."

"Grand. Just friggin' grand," he muttered. "So he's probably one of the Death Eaters and skulking about somewhere."

"Why do you think the door's barricaded, mate?" Ron asked, gesturing at it.

Kaylens opened her mouth and started to ask, "What's a Dea-" but the witch never got to finish.

She never finished because right then the blonde in Lupin's lap stretched out like a languid cat, making a sleepy sound. "Mmm, wotcher, Harry, Hermione, Ron." The unrecognizable witch blinked at Kaylens oddly, before hooking a thumb in her general direction. "Isn't that your witch from Knockturn, Harry?"

Harry suppressed the deep and abiding temptation to bash his head against something.


ECOTS


The next hour passed quickly.

Lupin woke up. Tonks hit on him. Lupin rubbed his head as if developing a migraine. Kaylens sat quietly in her corner and had a short, inaudible exchange with Moony before his father's last remaining friend slipped her something.

Harry didn't see what it was, but it had him seriously gnashing his teeth together.

He didn't even get to ask what it was, because Mooney cleared away the barricade of trunks and left the compartment to check on the rest of the train before he could ask.

To make matters worse he left them there with Kaylens; Kaylens and a rather giddy Tonks were not his idea of fun.

Tonks had been so giddy that Hermione had been worried enough to ask if the Auror had been hit with a cheering charm.

Harry really wished she hadn't asked, given Tonks response had been traumatizing as hell. It'd had to do with a near death experience involving passing out and train tracks rushing towards her face, before being rescued by a 'hunk-o-man', then waking up in Remus' lap rather near her new favorite appendage, and that was all that Harry had heard before his ears had mercifully blacked the rest out.

Ron and Hermione had tried to engage him, but after one too many mono-syllabic grunts they'd stopped trying.

Harry had just stood there for the better part of an hour, his back to the wall and wand tensely clenched in his grip, the Seeker ready to hex either Kaylens or anyone unexpected who came through that compartment door. He wasn't particular about who.

Kaylens, to her credit, had shown signs of intelligence, picked up on the mood and remained extraordinarily silent.

At least she had, right up until Lupin had come back, looking rather somber, informing Tonks that the 'others' had all been taken.

He hadn't missed Kaylens' reaction. It was a bit hard to miss when someone went that shade of ghostly white.

She'd shoved her way out of the compartment in two seconds flat, disappearing and leaving Lupin rubbing his forehead wearily.

The weird part was that Tonks had eyed Lupin with concern, asking if he wanted to go after her.

To this day Harry still didn't know why he did it.

He went after her.

He wanted to punch things, but he went after her.

He hadn't even waited for Moony's answer. He just ignored the shocked look from Ron and the pensive one from Hermione. He just stood up, brushed his hands off on his jeans, waved off Tonks, and went after her.

Again.

Just like in Diagon.

This was becoming a habit.

A really bad fucking habit.

Stalking past several compartments, each filled with slumped over students – clearly still knocked out from the effects of the sleeping smoke – he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

But hey, at least the sleeping students seemed to be having a decent time of it. They all looked somewhat comfortable, like someone had taken the time to prop them up, positioning them so they wouldn't wind up with stiff necks when they awoke.

Harry had a strong suspicion that Lupin had something to do with that.

He picked up the pace, catching up to Kaylens in the next train car. She was still in the hall, peering into a compartment, apparently looking for an unoccupied one.

That was probably for the best, given how insanely pleasant the witch was. She wasn't exactly personable. He could only imagine how well she'd get along with someone who'd recently been knocked the hell out by violent mist.

Hell, even he still wanted to throttle her.

Steeling himself he let out a deep, annoyed breath. "Kaylens?"

The witch froze. He'd tried to keep his voice level. He had. He had just failed on account of how utterly pissed he was.

Naturally it sounded like he'd barked at her.

The witch didn't turn to face him. Her back remained to him, her shoulders tensing, her fingers wrapped around a compartment door. Harry waited for a good thirty seconds, expecting…hell, he didn't know what. But he didn't expect nothing.

Yet that was exactly what she did: nothing.

Suspicion and annoyance and something he couldn't identify slid through his veins.

And she still said absolutely nothing.

It was mind-boggling.

He fought down the desire to hex her in the back – really, it'd be returning the favor – and managed a grimace. "I wouldn't think now's the time to wander off, Kaylens. All things considered." He glanced up and down the corridor, making damn sure to never take his eyes fully off her. "You know, unless you're particularly eager to run into a mask and get yourself hexed."

Well, that did it.

She came to life, and Kaylens hissed in remarkable impersonation of a stray cat. "What? So you're done accusing me of wearing one now?"

"Verdict's still out, actually. But on the off chance I'm wrong..."

Was he imagining it, or was her left hand trembling?

As if sensing his thoughts the witch let go of the compartment door, her left hand disappearing hastily from view. She still hadn't turned to face him, but she did glance over her shoulder, her expression downright unreadable.

She stood there in that train's aisle, the witch's incredibly golden hair gleaming in the slivers of sunlight infiltrating the windows, a set of hazel eyes fixed on him over the slope of her nose.

Harry planted his feet, arched an eyebrow, and waited. "Well? You planning to come back or not? Because really, looking a bit pale there. And no offense but I'm not imagining any scenarios where you pass out, hit your head, and wake up more pleasant than you already are."

Right. As soon as he'd said it he realized it was a bit much.

Kaylens mouth fell open, something angry flashing in those eyes; something angry and upset and scared.

And then her lips snapped shut, her words biting. "Go to hell, Potter."

"Oh good," he deadpanned, "this again."

"You were expecting something else?"

"Maybe a better explanation for why the hell you hexed me in the back?" he suggested.

She eyed him uneasily. "I already told you, Potter. You were outnumbered. You were going to get yourself killed." She said it slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

He flat out snorted, because he didn't believe her rationale; not for a second. There was more to it. Instinct told him there was, and after five years of shit trying to kill him he trusted his instincts.

"Right," he said, drawing out the word. "I'd think if you were that worried about them being dangerous, deadly killers you wouldn't be wandering around the train alone. You know, given they weren't actually caught."

She closed her eyes and let out a breath. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I told you, the real explanation," he said, giving a sarcastic, complacent shrug. "But you know, if you're feeling really risqué I'd settle for that 'thanks for saving my ass back in Knockturn' apology I've been waiting for."

Kaylens let out an exasperated breath. "You'll be waiting awhile."

He met her gaze and didn't blink. "Yeah," he said, "figured. But hey, while we're on the subject of shit you should be apologizing for, what's up with you telling Hagrid I lied? Because really, given I bailed your ass out of that one, dragging my ass down with yours was real classy."

False casualness bled from his tone, it thick as syrup.

Kaylens, to her credit, could feign confusion with the best of them. "What are you-"

"Hagrid," he cut across. "You know that large wizard you hang out with? Part-giant? Takes a liking towards dangerous pets? About that high?" He nodded towards the ceiling, indicating that Hagrid would have to physically duck.

The witch stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Harry thudded his shoulder against the wall, folded his arms across his chest, and pointedly waited.

Of all the shit going on, the student-fucking-Death Eaters on the train; the fact that the Order had used them all as literal bait yet again, and then failed yet again to save anyone, prolonging the Phoenixes non-winning streak to nearly two decades running; the fact that there were partial creatures that had now been taken by Voldemort's cronies, ones that would surely die as a result; amidst the fact that he'd been hexed in the back, that Lupin had ignored him all summer, that Sirius was dead and that he was pretty positive this girl was part of the group that had caused all of it and prone to wearing masks in her spare time, Harry managed to focus on this one single, irritating thing. He brought it to the forefront of his mind, and met the witch's gaze with a humorless grimace.

She'd told Hagrid about Knockturn.

Lupin had known, and the only way Lupin could have known is if Hagrid knew, which meant that Kaylens had told him.

That feeling he'd had, the one he couldn't quite put a name to ever since he'd met her, returned full force.

He'd lied for this girl, back in Diagon. He'd lied through his teeth to Hagrid and covered for her. He'd told Hagrid they'd just gone to the bookshop, in Diagon, so she wouldn't get in trouble.

No one would have known she'd been in Knockturn Alley if she'd just kept her mouth shut.

But she hadn't.

No.

Instead she'd hexed him in the back.

She was a student recruit, a Death Eater, she had to be.

Yet that other suspicion still niggled at the back of his mind, the one asking himself if she were part hag herself, even if she didn't look it. But right now…

Right now his teeth gritted together, his enamel grinding as he tried to reconcile his conflicting thoughts, and fuck were they ever conflicting. "Cat got your tongue on that one too then?" he asked, tone caustic as hell.

Kaylens actually turned around at that, staring at him, aghast. He didn't have to elaborate. She knew exactly what he was talking about: Hagrid and the book. Harry had lied for her, to keep her from getting in trouble. He'd gone out on a limb for her, yet she'd gone and obviously told Hagrid the second he'd been out of eyesight.

And then she'd hexed him in the back the first chance she'd had.

She'd also been incompetent as hell in helping him in that back compartment. She hadn't done a solitary thing to actually help.

Without apology he thudded his wand against his forearm, waiting.

Hazel eyes stared back, flickering in the car's shadows. "Why are you here, Potter?" she finally asked. "All you seem to do is accuse me of things. So why don't you-" She paused, closing her eyes and releasing a heavy breath, before finishing, "Why don't you just not bother?"

Funny, but he'd been asking himself the same question, continually, and still didn't have a response. Not a single one.

Fuck, maybe Hermione was right about him needing therapy after all.

"Maybe I'm curious," he said, banishing any and all thoughts of Hermione possibly being right from his mind. "Or maybe I'm just protective of my friends, whom you seem to be spending a lot of time around, so I want to know who exactly they're consorting with. So, throw me a bone Kaylens, humor me."

"Consorting with?"

"Did I stutter?"

He hadn't, but she did. And for half a second he thought she wouldn't answer, that she wouldn't humor him.

Only then she did.

He could have fallen over in shock.

The witch released a heavy breath, shoving her hair behind both ears as if it were a nervous habit. "I didn't exactly tell Hagrid you'd lied."

"Not exactly?" He sounded skeptical. "So what? Hagrid suddenly became psychic?"

She shot him a glare. "I didn't tell him anything, Potter. He just figured it out. He's not dumb you know."

"I never said he was."

"Well you certainly implied it. What did you think was going to happen when you had to go and point out that I'd acquired a book anyway? It's Hagrid. Of course he was going to want to see it."

Right. He had done that, hadn't he? He'd told Hagrid they'd gone to the bookstore. Hell, he'd even nodded at the damn thing in her satchel.

Harry balked anyway. "Well excuse me for trying to cover for you. What kind of book is obviously from Knockturn?"

"The kind they don't want people to read!" she hissed heatedly, her eyes immediately widening as if realizing she'd said too much. For a brief second Harry swore her eyes practically flashed.

Abruptly she'd whirled away, staring determinedly down the train aisle as it bounced and bumped noisily along the tracks.

Had he not been so frustrated he might have been seriously amused that he'd managed to render her temporarily speechless, but he wasn't. He was too busy leveling an annoyed look at the back of her head.

"What kind of person," he questioned, "buys a book people aren't supposed to read?" The challenge in his tone warranted response.

Somehow the infuriating witch refused to provide one, standing there in silence.

And then suddenly, as if a light had been flicked on, Kaylens jerked around, a flicker of annoyance in her gaze. "You are," she snapped, "a complete prat."

"I'm a what?"

"A prat," she repeated.

Right. The witch was insane, clearly. He looked at her, just looked. "How exactly am I a prat for trying to help you?" His heart pounded hard. He didn't know why it was, he just knew he was beyondannoyed.

Kaylens let out an upset groan, turning around from where she'd been determinedly gazing out the window. She met his gaze levelly. "Eavesdropping," she stated simply, "isn't exactly an endearing quality."

He practically growled, knowing full well what she was referring to.

"You're having a really hard time letting that go, aren't you?"

"I'll let it go when I get an apology."

He visibly bristled. "For what? Keeping you from getting your head hexed off?"

She inclined an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Are you serious," she responded, not bothering to mask her sarcasm. "Is your memory that short or did you forget that I literally just said eavesdropping?"

He suppressed the sudden urge to shove her out one of the many, many broken windows. In fact, the only thing stopping him was the fact that he'd have to explain to McGonagall why he'd felt the need to crush someone under the train rails before the welcome back feast had even occurred.

"My mistake," he said flatly, "the next time I see you wandering down an alley full of dark wizards I'll just leave you to them. I didn't realize how well acquainted you already were with them."

They both stood there, staring at one another, the tension between them vibrating like a real, palpable object. His jaw set, anger flooding him, and Kaylens looked no less fiery herself.

The moment lasted all of a second, and then something in the air tensed and snapped like a tautly wound wire.

"Where do you get off?" she practically shouted. "Seriously Potter? Why are you like this?"

"Me?" he demanded. "How about you? You're the one skulking about keeping secrets-"

"That are none of your business!"

"It sure as hell is when it nearly gets my head taken off in a seedy back-alley shop, Kaylens! Or did you forget that?"

"How could I forget when you're reminding me of your sodding heroics every two seconds?"

"Heroics? I was just trying to bloody well help!"

She shook her head almost violently. "Well you did a bang up job of it, Potter."

"Oh? Like you're doing any better? Kaylens, you let them get away. Those-" he stopped himself before he said hags. "They're going to die!"

And to his shock she flinched, something upset in her eyes. "Don't you think I don't know that?" she choked, and there was something broken and hollow and lost. "Trust me Potter, I know that better than you! You have no sodding clue!"

His mouth opened, ready to shout, but nothing came out.

Nothing came out because Kaylens looked scared.

Well and truly scared.

And then the door behind Kaylens moved, a taxing drawl infiltrating the hall. "Recruiting more loyal followers for your fan club, Scarhead?"


ECOTS


Kally hated this. She hated it.

And she hated it because Potter was right.

Those people were dead. Those hags were dead and if not soon would be, and it was her fault.

Kalliandra stood there in that aisle, her breath short with fear and dread. It was hard to breathe as she looked at Potter, his dark, accusing gaze boring holes straight through her, stripping her down to what she was: terrified.

She simply stood there, feeling like her feet were frozen to the floor, her leaden body unable to move.

She hadn't fought like he did; she'd hid.

As soon as she'd stunned Potter, her pre-magicked wand acting like a glorified stun gun, he'd slumped groggily back, his full weight colliding into her and nearly sending them both over the back rail.

Somehow she'd managed to not fall off, collapsing onto the grate with him instead.

She'd found out about the wizarding world three months ago in the worst possible way. They'd come for her then. Dark wizards in dark masks had come for her. By the time they were done the house had been a charred out husk, burnt to the ground despite the heavy rain storm, while she and her family had been cursed and drowned in muddy puddles in the front yard.

And there had been people wearing those same masks not two meters away, in the compartment her and Potter had just been in.

And he'd wanted to fight.

That night had come flooding back with full force, and it was suddenly like she couldn't breathe.

She'd stunned him before she'd realized what she was even doing.

She'd collapsed onto that end platform, Potter half on top of her, that night – the blood and skull and brains and bone - firing through her mind like a horrible movie strip on endless repeat. The train had shaken, rattling around them for Merlin knew how long. In truth, it'd taken her thirty seconds of sitting there, exposed and utterly frozen with him half on top of her, before she'd been able to so much as move.

But she had.

She'd managed to roll him over onto the grate, hooking his arm into a spot that would keep him from rolling off it. Her hands had trembled violently, so violently. It was like she'd been thrown into a freezing lake and then drug out, and then been asked to do something simple, like tie a shoe, only to find herself completely and entirely unable.

She'd been scared.

She hadn't wanted them to find her.

She hadn't wanted them to hurt Potter. He was awful. He was horrid. It was almost irrational, but she hadn't wanted him hurt.

And now he was calling her on it.

At least until another voice spoke, the drawl practically scathing.

Kally spun around with her wand, her pathetic pre-magicked wand, levelled into the newcomer's face.

A wizard with silver-blonde hair and gunmetal eyes stood there, hovering in the train's door like a wraith, his gaze fixed straight past her and resting on Potter, a mild sneer on his mouth. At her reaction those grey eyes flicked to her, for a brief second, a flash of amusement on his lips.

It was gone as soon as it came, and Kally's breath caught as she realized she wasn't about to be murdered. This one wasn't wearing a mask. He wasn't pointing his wand at her. He wasn't one of them.

Slowly she lowered her arm, surprised to find that it was shaking.

Neither wizard noticed.

"Malfoy." Potter sounded like he was chewing raw glass.

"Potter," the newcomer practically spat. "I see your popularity persists."

He flat out snorted. "I wouldn't know. I've never had to buy it."

Kally unconsciously stepped back, bumping against the narrow train aisle's wall. Her nerves were frayed, her hand was shaking, and without thinking about it she clutched at her wrist in an attempt to get it to stop.

It didn't work.

She tried anyway.

Besides, judging from the looks that Potter and this new wizard were throwing at ut one another, whatever was transpiring had absolutely nothing to do with her.

The two men stared at one another, fire burning in their eyes. A steady pressure was building in her ears, in the air, the magic bleeding off them in angry waves. Potter's ire had shifted from her to him, and she had the distinct impression that anyone caught in the cross fire wouldn't fare well.

She sucked in a shuddering breath and they both heard it. Those gray eyes shifted back to her for a sparse second, before dismissively flicking back to the dark haired wizard that had her wanting to scream.

Potter didn't so much as look at her. Not once. He just glared hatefully at the newcomer, his wand out, at his side. Something burned in his voice when he spoke. "Got your mask off awfully quick there, Malfoy. Take it Riddle's switched to Velcro straps?""

The word mask caught in her chest and she wanted nothing more than to shrink away.

"I'm sure I haven't the slightest what you're referring to, Scarhead," the newcomer said calmly, almost too calmly. "But do enlighten me with more of your delusions. I hear the Prophets growing bored with your old material."

Every line of Potter's body had grown taut, his expression tight. "Where's your cronies, Malfoy? Or did they not understand the Riddle-half-blood-instruction manual to dressing like it's Halloween and get tangled in theirs?"

"Careful Scarehead. Would hate to see you take one to the chest and wind up like that Mudblood friend of-"

Potter's wand shot up and was in the newcomer's face so fast Kally hadn't even seen him move. 'Malfoy' didn't react. He just smirked coldly.

"What's your plan, Potter? Hex me down in front of a witness?"

"The thought did occur to me."

Gray eyes sneered, leaning towards the wand, voice dropping several octaves. "Good. Because I need just one reason, Potter. Just one to get you expelled."

Potter flat out snorted. "Like anyone would listen to you. Remind me again what's the sentence for murdering and torturing Muggles? Reckon your dad's got what…eight or nine life sentences coming to him when he's caught? Assuming they're extra nice and don't just give him the kiss outright."

Something in Potter's voice had changed. It had never exactly been particularly friendly towards her, but hearing him now, seeing the way his eyes flashed fiercely and how his knuckles gripped his wand tight…

It was like being bathed in ice water,

"You're going to pay for that, Potter." His eyes once more flashed to her, the sneer on his lips flickering just a bit broader. "Your friends too. Might want to be careful, whoever you are, about the company you keep. I hear this one's tend to get caught in the crossfire."

If eyes could spit venom, Potter's were. "That supposed to be a threat?"

"Course not," he said with maddening self-assuredness. "That would be illegal. Didn't anyone ever teach you the law, Potter?"

The window's latch pressed hard against her lower back. Her heart raced, her breathing shaky. She wanted to do nothing more than run. Run, run, run and never look back. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and these two as humanly possible, only she couldn't, because they were both very real and visceral and very much physically there blocking her two escape routes.

"Can't help but notice that you're not sleeping, Malfoy," Potter muttered. "Convenient, that."

"Funny Potter, but neither are the two of you."

Kally stood very, very still.

And then a third voice broke through the corridor, shattering the tension like a glass being broke. "Thirty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor." The crisp, clean voice of a stern woman in a bun broke through the hall, the older woman having appeared out of thin air. "I would suggest you three disperse."

There was a pause where both Potter and the newcomer continued to stare at one another, Kally still keeping flat to the wall, afraid to move.

"Now!"

Potter was the one to back down first, his chest rising as he heaved a hard, heavy breath. "Yes Professor," he said, though his voice vibrated tensely.

Grey eyes' gaze simply snapped to the woman, then back to Potter, before shifting to her, something…curious and predatory within it.

Kally shoved past them both, casting a grateful look in the woman's direction. A Professor, obviously. She'd made it to the next car and shoved her way into a mercifully vacant compartment before she realized how much she'd been shaking.

Sinking down onto the bench she drug her hands through her hair and tried to sodding stop.

Once again it didn't work.

Being here…it was unnerving. She hated this. She hated it. She hated everything about the sodding wizarding world and she was stuck in it.

Something creaked.

Her head shot up as if she'd been shot, finding the grey eyed wizard standing in the door to her compartment. Spotting her startlement, he actually smirked. "Jumpy are we?"

She sucked in a shuddering breath. "After that display of testosterone-posturing can you blame me?"

To her surprise his lips twitched. "So," he said, "got a name, or shall I just call you Potter's Greatest Fan?"

Reacting on frayed nerves wasn't her strong suit. Her lips parted, as if uncertain of what to say. She didn't move; she didn't speak. She was trapped in a compartment with nowhere to go, and the walls of it came crushing around her, near suffocating.

The wizard simply stood there, patiently waiting.

The heated exchange, the thrown words between Potter and this wizard fire through her head. Potter had implied that he had been one of the one's wearing a mask. If that was true, if he was…

She needed to run, to stay far, far away from him.

But she couldn't, so here she was.

Part of her suddenly and deeply regretted ever leaving that back compartment. She didn't like Potter. Merlin, she didn't know what to sodding think of him, but she at least knew that he wasn't trying to kill her.

The same couldn't be said about this man.

And he'd just called her Potter's Greatest Fan, as if feeling her out.

Her hands dropped to her lap, Kally eyeing him cautiously. "I could say the same thing about you."

"Yes well," the wizard smirked, "no one has ever accused Scarhead and I of enjoying one another's company."

The train rumbled quietly around them, giving a little shake before smoothing out. It was preternaturally silent, the train devoid of the typical sounds of children and teens. They were all still unconscious, still sleeping from the dispersed mist, and the only sounds came from the few that had been enervated.

But she didn't know how this wizard standing in front of her was awake. She didn't have the first clue. All she knew was what Potter had said about him, and his reaction.

It had been far from good.

"I believe I asked," the wizard said, still hovering in the door, "for a name." Everything about his tone was polite, his expression an unreadable mask.

She found herself studying him, her brow artfully furrowed. "Yours first."

His eyebrows shot straight up and a strange shadow swept his expression, as if he'd expected her to already know. "You angered Potter," he said instead. "For that alone I'd almost consider letting you make one up."

She offered a wane smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I think you'll find I'm not in the mood to be particularly creative. Unless you're keen towards being called 'grey eyes'?"

He smirked. "Draco Malfoy. And you are…?"

She hesitated for a second. "Kalliandra," she finally offered.

He inclined an eyebrow. "Got a surname to go with that? Or is it my turn to get creative?"

"Kaylens," she said flatly. "Kalliandra Kaylens."

"Mmm," he made a non-committal sound. "So Kaylens, something vexing you or do you always wear that expression?"

Her eyes narrowed marginally. "What expression?"

"The one that looks like you'd like to run."

It was like being slapped. His observation was so spot on that she had to physically bite down on the inside of her cheek to avoid reacting.

The smug look on his face only grew. "Ah, hit a nerve have I?"

She shot him a glare. "I'm beginning to see why Potter dislikes you."

"Potter wouldn't recognize what he should or shouldn't like if it hit him right in the face," he said with a bored shrug. "Mind if I join you?"

"Seems you are already."

The wizard smirked, drawling, "Well if you're this welcoming, don't mind if I do." He shifted out of the doorway, entering the compartment, his eyes on her as if she were a particularly interesting specimen at the zoo.

Every sodding distrustful cell in her body screamed, but she didn't move. She didn't let him see any more discomfort in her than he already had. Not even when he sat down directly across from her, making himself rather comfortable on the bench.

And he did make himself comfortable. He sprawled out across it, folding an arm behind his head and closing his eyes, as if entirely at ease with himself.

It didn't seem like something a person who had been running around a train wearing a mask would do.

But that didn't mean he hadn't been.

An unconscious shiver wracked her, the feeling of collapsing back onto that end platform, Potter half on top of her, Kally trying to be sodding quiet so those inside the rear compartment wouldn't hear…

They'd taken the part-species with them. They'd taken them, and she hadn't done a thing to stop them, and they'd have taken her too if they knew.

And now one might be sitting barely a meter from her.

Her eyes flickered over him, noting that he was bigger than her, more powerful. There wasn't much she could do if he tried to grab her. She wasn't stupid. Once she'd had brothers, and she knew sodding well that a will to survive wasn't exactly a substitute for raw, physical strength.

"How aren't you unconscious?" she asked after an indeterminable silence. Hesitance filled her, but she needed to know. She needed to know how this wizard wasn't sleeping like the rest of the train. She needed to know if she should be afraid, without him knowing that's why she was asking.

If he noticed he didn't let on. He didn't so much as crack an eye. "Not all of us are incompetent with our spell work."

And that was it. He offered nothing more. The train rumbled along, a moment of loaded, awkward politeness filling the space.

"Salazar even your silence is judgmental," he drawled. "But if you must know…"

"I didn't ask."

He ignored this. "If you must know," he repeated, a trace of disdain infiltrating his lilt, "I made my compartment airtight." He lolled his head to regard her, both his pale eyes narrowing critically. "Like I said, not all of us are incompetent with spell work. There are more than just inbred wastes of magic taking up space on this train."

Steely eyes held hers, and she considered leaving, only…

That would be almost worse, wouldn't it? Because people with nothing to hide didn't run every time someone so much as spoke to them.

Kally sucked in a short breath and nodded, forcing herself to relax and pulling her legs up, onto the bench. She curled them beneath her, leaning to rest between the window and seat, her eyes carefully avoiding Draco Malfoy's.

She could practically feel his blazing a searing path across her, disdain in his gaze and disapproval in expression. "Hrm…" he finally deigned to utter, "talkative aren't you? You always like this with inquisitioning strangers?"

The sarcasm practically bled from his lips.

"Depends on the company," she said slowly.

"And your present company?" he asked, that gaze of his still chilling, emotionless.

She looked out the window, avoiding those eyes without actually avoiding them. "Haven't decided yet."

For a moment she thought he'd do something, say something more, but he didn't. He simply closed his eyes and lolled his head back to rest on the cushion, a smirk tainting his lips. "Mmm, well let me know when you do."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so instead….she said nothing.

The rest of the trip was spent in relative silence.