Previously: Hermione Granger got put in a group with Kali Black and Blaise Zabini during Arithmancy and learnt that there was more to some than met the eye. This impression was reinforced in Potions, when Kali got into an argument with Professor Snape, and then again in Defence Against the Dark Arts when a Boggart revealed a dark fear.

Chapter Eight:

The Boy Who Lived

Kali's hand cramped, muscles spasming like knives lancing through her fingers.

She kept scrubbing, head dipped within the cauldron, shoulders scrunched to keep herself from bashing into the rim above her. The rasp of her brush echoed in the darkness, but she strained to catch the scratch of a quill somewhere to her left.

Nine detentions with Professor Snape since the start of term. She had already scoured the gargoyle faucet, reorganised the ingredients cupboard, and sanded the melted edge of a workbench caught in a potion mishap, but the constant use Snape subjected his cauldrons to meant a constant need for cleaning.

A dozen spells could do a better and faster job than Kali and her brush, but Snape's eyes gleamed with every new callous on her palm.

"Hurry up, Miss Black," he said, and she narrowly avoided banging her head. "I don't want to waste my entire weekend because you're incapable of holding your tongue."

She proved him wrong by clamping her jaw shut.

Daphne and Blaise would be halfway to Hogsmeade by now. Kali didn't need Snape to decide that the best way to earn her silence was to make sure that she never got to visit the only all-wizarding village in Great Britain.

Scooting out from the cauldron, she squinted into it and brought a candle closer to check for stubborn stains. Snape watched from his desk, his predictably dark robes draining any colour from his pale skin. He rose when she dropped her brush into the water bucket and stalked closer as she pushed the cauldron onto its feet.

"Satisfactory," he said, swiping a finger over the cauldron's walls and narrowing his eyes when it came back clean. "I have one more task for you, and then you may leave."

Kali bit her tongue. The hands of her watch ticked against her wrist, but she waited while Snape vanished the bucket and levitated the cauldron away. With a swirl of his robes, he led her into the private potion lab adjoining the classroom. Shelves covered the stone walls, and a single cauldron sat in the room's centre. Its contents bubbled despite the lack of a fire, and a cloud of blue smoke hung beneath the ceiling.

"Wolfsbane," said Kali.

Snape nodded and flicked his wand to light the kindling beneath the potion.

Words of thanks tumbled into Kali's mouth, but she swallowed them. Few people had the skill to brew Wolfsbane, a potion that relieved the symptoms of lycanthropy. Of those who could, fewer did. Of the dozens of apothecaries in New York State, only one sold the Wolfsbane Potion and only did so if the commission was pre-paid.

Like Mr Ogeor, Snape didn't brew the potion out of the goodness of his heart. He had orders, and he followed them resentfully.

"As you know of Professor Lupin's condition"—his lips twisted around the word—"I shall require your assistance."

Pan's warning bell rang. Scenarios flashed from his mind to Kali's, each worsening until she blocked him out. She followed Snape over the flagstones, taking each step with care on the off chance that Pan's boobytrap theory proved correct.

"The final step of the potion requires the simultaneous yet individual addition of four ingredients. I would rather avoid Levitation Charms for such a precarious endeavour unless you doubt your ability to do as you're told."

Fingernails digging into her palm, Kali forced a smile. "I'll manage."

Snape harrumphed. He handed her a dried leaf and a vial of purple dust and moved to the opposite side of the cauldron, ten centimetres of aconite root in one hand and a yellow petal in the other.

"On the count of three," he said. "One." He flexed his wrists. "Two." His left sleeve rolled to his elbow. "Three." A red tattoo curved over his forearm.

Kali dropped her ingredients in half a second too late.

Every bubble on the potion's surface popped, spurting brown jets of goo in all directions. One hit Kali's elbow. It stung, and then it burned. Pinpricks stabbed into her arm, and she stumbled backwards.

Snape cursed. He threw another root and half a petal into the potion, stirred clockwise, counter-clockwise, and clockwise again until the potion calmed.

His glare travelled to Kali's elbow, to the goo spreading like a parasite. The rumble in his throat sounded like one of Pan's growls. He pulled a bottle from a shelf, sending two jars crashing to the floor, and marched over the broken glass, stomping on the shards as though he imagined Kali under his feet instead.

The pinpricks worsened when he wrenched her arm to the side, but ice eased the fire when the salve touched her skin. He rubbed it in hard enough to bruise and said, "Did I not say on the count of three, Miss Black?"

He had, but the tattooed snake protruding from a skull's mouth had stalled her hands.

Shoving her arm away, he whirled toward the steaming potion. "Get out. Your incompetence disgusts me."

With a glance at his covered forearm, she left.

"That's a development," said Pan, trotting down the Grand Staircase as a fat yellow cat that passing first and second-years cooed at.

Snape wasn't the only teacher with a tattoo he'd rather his students not know about, but how many of his colleagues could say that they hid Lord Voldemort's Dark Mark beneath their sleeve? Kali broke into a jog to meet Pan halfway. "Do you think Dumbledore knows?"

"This castle is his kingdom. Of course he does."

Questions danced through her mind while concerns swirled in Pan's. She used one of the secret passageways to get to the third floor, darting into the Defence Against the Dark Arts corridor from behind an empty display case and skidding to a stop at the sight of Harry Potter closing the door to Remus's office on the other side of the hallway.

Pan's thoughts slowed and brought up images of old photographs in which Kali and Harry played together. Barely old enough to walk, yet they'd been the closest each other had to a sibling. "You could go talk to him."

"I could." But she didn't move.

Only when Harry took a step to turn a corner did Kali's doubt lift long enough to throw her into action. She hailed him, and he turned, brows scrunching and then lifting. He was kind of cute in a disorderly way. The green of his eyes glowed against his copper skin, and even though his dark hair was an utter mess, there was a certain charm to it.

Kali glanced up and down the corridor as she ran to him, but neither Ron nor Hermione waited around the corner. Kali had lost count of the number of times she had seen the three of them sitting in one of the courtyards or walking down a hallway, talking and laughing. They whispered a lot as well, huddled together, throwing glances over their shoulders in a way that screamed 'trouble'. She couldn't remember ever seeing Harry alone before now.

"You aren't at Hogsmeade," he said when she stopped in front of him.

"Detention with Snape. You?"

A look wrinkled his face, but it vanished before she could commit it to memory. He shrugged. "I got into an argument with my aunt and uncle before leaving. They wouldn't sign my permission slip."

Kali's brows shot up. "That sucks."

Harry nodded and jumped when Pan brushed against his leg. "He's kind of scrawny, isn't he?" said Pan.

"He's a teenage boy; that's how some of them look."

She had only spoken to Harry once since starting at Hogwarts, but she had heard the stories about him. Her gaze flicked to the scar on his forehead, partially hidden beneath his hair—the Boy Who Lived, a legend even abroad.

He didn't look like much of a legend.

His Muggle clothes hung from his shoulders like from a coat hanger, and a crook bent the bridge of his glasses from one too many breaks and magical repairs. He was just a kid, yet the way some people talked about him you would have thought that he was the wizarding world's greatest and only hope. It was a crappy weight to put on anyone's shoulders, let alone someone who was barely into their teens.

"What were you doing with Professor Lupin?" she asked.

"He invited me to tea." His gaze wandered to Remus's office door, and he smiled. "We talked about the Boggart lesson."

Kali recoiled. It had been over a month since that incident, yet the memory still made her insides squirm and left a bad taste in her mouth. Remus had suggested finding another Boggart for her to practise on, comparing it to getting back on a horse after a fall, but she'd changed the subject.

"Not that part," Harry added, his eyes wide behind the wireframe of his glasses. "I wanted to know why he wouldn't let me face it."

"Because he was worried about Lord Voldemort materialising in the staff room?"

Harry's eyes snapped up to meet hers, and Kali scraped her nails over her palms.

On the rare occasions when You-Know-Who came up in conversation, Remus and Gran had never shied away from speaking his title, so Kali hadn't been taught to fear it, but if one person had earned the right to that fear, it was Harry.

"Yeah," he said. "He figured people would panic."

"That's assuming any of us would have recognised him. It's not like he has his own Chocolate Frog Card, and none of the history books shows his photograph."

A few had described him, but their depiction was unreliable. A man with a pale face, scarlet eyes, and a snake-like nose sounded more like a villain out of a Muggle cartoon than a real person. The lack of accuracy wasn't a surprise. Few people had encountered Lord Voldemort and lived to tell the tale. Those who had were either his allies or their memories had been warped by such a close encounter with death. Even Remus, who had fought in the war, didn't know what You-Know-Who looked like.

"It wouldn't have mattered anyway," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders that sent a ripple down his baggy clothes. "I didn't think of Voldemort."

Kali blinked. Perhaps Harry had nothing left to fear from Voldemort after all.

"He shifted his weight, his gaze going over her shoulder to Remus's office, and scratched the back of his neck. "Snape brought Professor Lupin a potion," he said, and Kali re-evaluated her need to get into the teachers' private corridors. Maybe they had magically replicated those Muggle steps that moved upwards and downwards on their own. "He's always wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. Some people reckon he'd do anything to get it."

The implication tilted the edges of her lips. "You think Snape would poison someone for a job?"

"Well, he's not the best person around, is he?"

"True, but to poison a colleague …" Her smile broke out. "That would be pretty extreme."

He followed her lead with a tentative smile that grew as he nodded his concession. "I guess."

Kali rocked back on her heels. The silence stretched, and his smile faded into a polite curve. She bounced onto her toes. "We've got to be the only third-years not at Hogsmeade," she said. "Got anything planned?"

He shook his head, sending his shaggy fringe sweeping his brow. "I was just going to wander around. Maybe visit the Owlery."

"Mind if I join?"

She bit her cheek and forced her expression away from desperate or over-eager and waited. Harry's smile reached his eyes again. "Sure"

They spent the rest of the morning exploring the castle. Harry showed her shortcuts and secret passages he knew about, and they discovered some new ones together. They talked about school stuff, mostly: classes, teachers, homework … And then Harry asked her about her Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and they moved on to music. From there, the conversation flowed from one thing to another.

"Do you want to see something cool?" he asked as they left the Great Hall after lunch.

She grinned. "Always."

Harry led her to the second-floor girls' lavatory, but Kali stopped outside the old, wooden door. "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?"

"You know about Myrtle?"

"I went in there and talked to her once." Kali shrugged and scuffed the toe of her shoe. "She doesn't like me very much."

His glasses slid half a centimetre down his nose when he frowned. "Why not?"

"Apparently I remind her of a girl who bullied her at school." She pulled Harry closer to the wall as a group of first-years ran past. The younger students slowed, gawping at Harry and, to a lesser extent, at Kali.

It had taken a few weeks, but the novelty of Kali's arrival had worn off. People still stared and whispered; there was still animosity in certain gazes, but for the most part, people had lost interest in the daughter of the infamous Sirius Black, for which Kali felt only relief. As much as she didn't want it to bother her, that blind hatred had a way of clawing at her skin, seeping under it and festering there.

Kali shook off the thought as the first-years turned a corner and ran out of sight. "Myrtle isn't what you wanted to show me, right?"

"No, it's something else," Harry assured her.

He pushed open the door, and they stepped in.

Candle stubs gave off a dull light, glowing off the damp floor and reflecting in the large mirror on the far wall. Cracks and spots marred its surface, distorting its echo of the unused lavatory. A row of chipped sinks hung beneath it, the once white porcelain now a greyish-brown. One sink had been torn from the wall. Large shards of it lay scattered in a corner, and water dripped from its exposed pipes. Flakes and scratches covered the stall doors, one of which dangled off its hinges.

Myrtle floated above it all, wailing as usual, but she stopped when she saw her visitors.

"Oh, Harry!" Her face lit up like a five-year-old being handed an ice cream. "You're back! It's been so long since you've come to visit me!"

Harry raised his hand in an unenthusiastic wave. "Hi, Myrtle."

His less than lively greeting didn't bother Myrtle. She bit her lip and batted her eyelashes and swung her clasped hands from side to side with an energy she could not contain.

"Hello, Myrtle," Kali said.

Myrtle's gaze snapped her way. She glared before turning back to Harry. "Why did you bring her here?"

Harry edged into the room, avoiding the worst of the puddles. "I came to show her something."

Myrtle's face fell. "Oh, so you didn't come to visit me after all."

"Uh—no," Harry said.

Kali elbowed him in the ribs, and he winced. When he shot her a look, she pressed her lips together and tilted her head in Myrtle's direction. He frowned but added, "Maybe I could come back later."

Face lighting back up, Myrtle giggled. "Oh, yes, that would be lovely! Just don't bring her next time." She twirled once in the air and dove into one of the toilets and down the drain.

Harry rubbed his side. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome." She grinned and nodded toward the puddle around Myrtle's toilet. "You made her so happy that she gained physical influence. Ghosts don't tend to get much of that unless they're seeking vengeance."

"That's great, but now I have to come to visit her again, and you may have noticed that she isn't the most fun person to be around."

"She's certainly earned her nickname." Kali looked around the shabby bathroom. "Where is this thing you want to show me?"

"Over here." He walked to the sinks in front of the toilets and pointed out a tiny snake scratched onto the side of one of the copper taps. It coiled around the pipe, its edges smoothed by time, its forked tongue tasting the faucet.

Kali ran a finger over it. "An engraving?"

One of her rings clinked against the metal—a snake, like the etching. Silver instead of reddish brown, it wrapped several times around her finger, its eyes dark and judgemental.

According to the man who had given it to Gran—one of her shadiest clients to date—it had once belonged to Salazar Slytherin who had commissioned it for his youngest daughter and enchanted it with a powerful protection spell. The spell, if it had ever existed, had long since faded, but it was a pretty tale for a pretty piece of jewellery.

"It's a secret door," said Harry, and then he did something so unexpected that Kali gaped. He spoke in Parseltongue.

The low hissing rang through the bathroom and stole any hint of warmth from the tiled walls. The candles flickered, Pan's fur stood on end, and Kali bit her lip to stop herself from flinching.

Rarer than Seers and Empaths, a Parselmouth's ability bore unequivocally dark connotations. Every famed Parselmouth had had an unhealthy interest in the darkest of magic: Herpo the Foul, Salazar Slytherin, Lord Voldemort, and most of the Gaunt family. According to many, Parseltongue and moral depravity went hand in hand.

Then again, Kali supposed that most people would say the same thing about all Blacks being rotten to the core.

She ignored the chill that had washed over her and took a step back as the tap flared white. It span on itself with a heavy clunk, and the sink sank out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed.

"It's the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said, watching her expression. "Salazar Slytherin built it before he left Hogwarts."

Any trace of dread vanished, and she peered down the dark pipe. "I thought this place was a myth."

"It's real, and so was Slytherin's monster."

She looked away from the darkness below and over at Harry. "Why the past tense?"

"It's dead." Kali raised an eyebrow, and Harry blushed. "I killed it."

Her brows shot up further, but she smiled at the sight of his reddened cheeks. "What was it?"

"A Basilisk."

Of course it had been something serpentine. Kali had never known anyone more obsessed with something than Salazar Slytherin had been with snakes. She resisted the urge to glance down at Harry's thin body. "You fought a Basilisk and won?"

Harry nodded.

"You're more impressive than you look, Harry Potter."

He blushed harder than ever. Maybe people weren't crazy for thinking that this boy could save the wizarding world. Kali wasn't sure how one went about killing a Basilisk, but she couldn't imagine it being easy. "Can we go down?"

"Yeah, it's a bit dirty, though."

Kali grinned. "That's half the fun of an adventure."

She lowered herself into the pipe and let go. As she rushed down the dark slide, cold air whipped her face, sending her hair flying, and slime buried itself beneath her nails. Her shoulders bumped against the sticky walls every time the pipe twisted. Pan turned into a canary and flew down after her, and they fell deeper beneath the school than even the dungeons.

The pipe levelled out, and she shot from it with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel. She rolled to her feet, brushing off some of the muck, and helped Harry to his feet when he landed at hers.

"Lumos!" said Harry with a wave of his wand.

Pan flew down the passageway. "This place is filthy," he said. "Try not to touch anything. You might catch something."

Kali and Harry started after Pan. The tunnel widened. Small animal bones dotted the floor, and then littered it, and then blanketed it. The little skeletons snapped beneath their feet, and Kali winced at every resounding crack. She tried to avoid stepping on them, but there were so many that she couldn't see the ground beneath them. With a huff and a wrinkled nose, she lifted her gaze in time to notice the outline of something huge and curved lying ahead. Her heart slammed against her chest, and her grip on her wand tightened.

"Calm down," said Pan, fluttering above her. "It's nothing scary."

The wand light slid over a snakeskin, at least twenty feet long. A dull and murky green, it lay curled and empty across the tunnel floor, falling in on itself in places.

"Wow," Kali whispered.

"You should have seen it when it had teeth," said Harry.

Stepping closer to the skin, she ran a hand over it, her touch light, almost reverent so that she didn't damage it. Wrinkled and cracked, the keeled scales scratched her fingertips. Without sun or heat to dry it out, the damp tunnel had preserved most of its form.

"There's more," said Harry, gesturing toward the other side of the tunnel.

They climbed a pile of rubble and crept around bends until finally a wall rose in front of them. The carvings of two entwined serpents adorned it, their eyes set with fist-sized emeralds that blinked in the light.

Harry cleared his throat, and the emerald eyes flickered. This time when the faint hiss escaped his throat, Kali only shuddered. The serpents parted, and the wall cracked open, the halves sliding out of sight, revealing an abyss.

The wand-light did little to disperse the darkness.

On either side of the path, towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness. They cast long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place. The hairs on the back of Kali's neck stood on end as the shadows crept around her, coming alive only to escape the dim light. Her git of a brain conjured dark creatures lurking beyond the wand-light, and she edged closer to Pan.

The cavern stretched in all directions beyond the reach of the light. Water trickled, and the light reflected off a slow stream—a subterranean river, perhaps a continuation of the one that had led Kali and the first-years into that underground harbour at the start of term. She focused on that instead of the darkness and tried to figure out which part of Hogwarts sat above her head.

The path drew level with the last pair of pillars, and a statue as tall as the chamber loomed into view, standing against the back wall. Kali craned her neck to look into the giant, water-worn face and followed the trail of its thin beard down to its grey feet, between which lay what remained of the Basilisk.

"Well, this place is morbidly fascinating," said Kali. A tremor snuck into her voice, but she convinced herself that it wasn't noticeable.

She stepped up to the skeleton and ran a hand over the Basilisk's skull. Harry hadn't lied—it was indeed far more impressive with teeth.

A crevice shattered the smooth surface beneath her hand. Narrow and about the length of her finger, it looked as though someone had stabbed the snake through the head with a sword. That wouldn't have been Kali's weapon of choice if going up against a creature whose fangs were longer than her forearm, but it had worked, so who was she to judge?

Going around the Basilisk, she walked up to the statue's huge left foot. Cracks and dints covered its surface.

"Have you ever been rock climbing?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Harry, who shook his head. "It's easy. Come on."

It wasn't that high—less than ten feet—but it wasn't designed to be climbed. Although there were plenty of crevices, they were not conveniently placed. Kali made do with what little upper body strength she had to pull herself up, making a mental note to work a little harder on improving the muscles in her arms and shoulders as she huffed and panted around her wand. She held it between her teeth, unwilling to lose one of the only light sources in the room.

When she finally reached the top of the foot, her shoulders ached and her fingers were numb from the cold. Harry collapsed next to her, gasping.

Pan came to rest on Kali's shoulder. "Are you trying to kill the boy?"

"He's fine," she said, stroking Pan's head as she sat beside Harry. "He got up here, didn't he?"

"He looks like he's about to pass out. He's hyperventilating." Pan flapped his wings. "Do you know how far away we are from help if we need it? We could all die down here, and no one would ever find us."

"What's with the gloom and doom soundtrack?"

He squawked. "It's a reasonable concern!"

"How long have you and Pan been together?" Harry asked, catching his breath and pushing himself into a seated position.

"About eight years," she said. "We'll be together for the rest of our lives. Pan will age as I do, grow as I grow. We're two halves of one whole."

"Poetic," Pan mocked.

"Shut up." She dropped her shoulders, and his wings fluttered to keep him in place, talons digging into her t-shirt.

"What happens if one half …" Harry let the sentence hang there as uncertainty marred his forehead.

"Dies?" Harry nodded, and Kali shifted, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Theoretically, it's survivable, but in practice … it would be like tearing your soul in half. Physically, you'd be fine, but inside, you'd be damaged beyond repair." She fiddled with one of her rings. "My step-mother used to say that it would be twice as painful as losing your soulmate. Given how she felt when my mum died, I really don't want to test her theory."

"I'm sorry about your mum."

Kali shrugged and tightened her hold on her knees. "You've got your sad backstory; I've got mine. We're not the only ones."

He shifted beside her and crossed his legs, keeping a firm hold on his wand so that it didn't roll over the edge of the giant foot. His voice wavered as he asked, "How did it happen?"

"It was an accident. A Muggle driver lost control of their car, and …" She threw in another shrug, this one jerkier than the last. "Just one of those things that happens."

"But you blame yourself," he said, no doubt remembering that bloody Boggart.

Had Kali imagined this reunion with her childhood friend whom she had been too young to remember, it would not have gone like this. Emotions grappled and formed a tight ball that tried to wedge itself in her throat, but she straightened and ignored it.

"It's stupid," she said, keeping her gaze dead ahead and twisting her lips into a self-deprecating smile that pulled on the muscles of her cheeks. "I was nine-years-old and bed-bound because I'd eaten something I shouldn't have. I was miserable, but there was this book that had just come out. I begged for it, and my mum went to buy it."

The dripping water echoed through the cavern and struggled to fill the silence, splashing into puddles and grating Kali's nerves. She squeezed her wand, and its light wavered. A list of spells ran through her mind, ones that might obliterate the dripping, each noisier than the last, but she forced herself to loosen her hold and breathe.

"It was nothing more than one stupid stroke of bad luck after another," she said, the words rough and hard.

"You couldn't have known," Harry said. Not loud enough to echo through the chamber, the words faded the moment they left his mouth. "It isn't your fault."

Her eyes stung, and she rubbed at them with harsh strokes. "Sure."

His mouth opened, but no words came out, and Kali regretted her tone. He was the first person she had met who could understand, at least partly, what she had gone through. His parents had died when he was young—too young to have got to know them. Kali couldn't decide if that was better or worse, but she didn't envy his situation.

A draught blew past, and she rubbed the goosebumps covering her bare arms.

"You're cold," said Harry as he pulled off his hoodie and handed it to her. A t-shirt poked from beneath his hand-knitted jumper, bringing him up to a previous three layers of clothing as opposed to her one and a bit—the training bra didn't really count.

"One of us obviously knows what to expect of Scottish weather more than the other," she said, pulling the hoodie over her head.

Harry smiled, but he kept watching her with a hint of worry in his eyes. "So you've been with Professor Lupin ever since your mum died?"

She nodded and pulled her hair from beneath the sweater's fabric. "He's my godfather. I've known him my whole life. For a while, he and my step-mother raised me, but Leilani passed away last year after a Quidditch accident."

His face drained of colour. Kali could have laughed at the morbid turns this conversation kept taking if not for the pit in her stomach.

The horror and dread darkening Harry's features suggested that he played Quidditch. "What kind of accident?"

"A Bludger. She'd been playing professionally for years. It was her first and last injury."

"I'm sorry."

She rubbed the frayed knee of her jeans. "She was thinking about retiring in a couple of years. Maybe going to teach at Ilvermorny or San Francisco with Remus."

Harry moved around. Whether it was from physical or emotional discomfort, Kali couldn't tell, but she could no longer feel her backside because of the cold stone beneath her.

When he found a comfortable position, he asked, "Those are the American schools of witchcraft and wizardry?"

"Two of them. America's a big continent. The US alone has at least one school per State. Texas has three. Ilvermorny and Castelobruxo in Brazil are the only ones that are recognised internationally because they were the first built by European colonisers."

Harry played with the sleeves of his jumper. They rode up his wrists, the only item of Muggle clothing she'd seen on him that wasn't too big. "I didn't know there were any other magic schools out there."

Kali tore her gaze away from the careful handiwork of someone skilled with a needle and thread and frowned. "You though wizards only existed in the UK?"

"No. I knew other countries had witches and wizards. I guess I never really thought about it." He shrugged. "It must be nice. Getting to travel and see different places."

Rolling her lip between her teeth, Kali fingered the tattered edges of the over-sized hoodie's sleeves. "Do you not travel much with your family?"

"My aunt and uncle take my cousin to the beach sometimes."

"You don't go with them?"

"I'm never invited." He stared into the darkness, his expression tight and his shoulders rounding in on themselves.

Kali hesitated. The urge to press the matter ate at her, but his body language warned her off. "How come you can speak Parseltongue?" she asked, livening her tone and rocking to the sides to warm her cold bottom. "It's hereditary, right? So one of your parents had the ability? Or is it a recessive trait?"

"I became a Parselmouth when Voldemort gave me this." He pointed at the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Kali stilled, her brain whirring. "That's … odd."

"He accidentally transferred some of his powers to me that night," he said, not with any kind of pride but with a deep unease—an unease that spread through Kali like a battering ram. Her legs ached to get her the hell out of there, but she stayed and tried for yet another change of subject.

"You're awfully trusting. Did you know that?"

He looked over at her. The movement rearranged his fringe, creating a gap through which his scar showed. A shade darker than his skin, it followed the same pattern as the wand movement that accompanied the Killing Curse: down, over, and down again.

Kali couldn't begin to understand why Voldemort had tried to murder a child, and she had even less clue as to how he could have failed.

The first matter was perhaps a simple one: he was just that evil. It wasn't a comforting thought, but at least it answered the question. The second issue, however, was far less easy to resolve. A power transferal made it all the weirder and slightly suspect, but Harry had given her no reason to doubt him, so it wouldn't be fair for her to distance herself.

"I'm practically a stranger," she continued, "yet you decided to show me this place, far away from anyone who could help you if I turned out to be a serial killer. My father is Sirius Black, after all, and he apparently wants to kill you. For all you know, it runs in the family. If you had any self-preservation instinct at all, you would never speak to me again."

Harry smiled, not even mildly concerned that she might be telling the truth. "You're not your father."

His words soothed a nerve that had been stinging ever since that night in July when Aurors had broken into Gran's flat, a nerve that ached all the more with every stare thrown her way and every harsh whisper uttered behind her back.

Kali's lips curved into a smile. "Good answer, Potter."

"You're not what I expected," he admitted.

She snorted, expelling air in a guffaw that eased the last of the tension from her shoulders. "I'm not what you expected for the daughter of a suspected mass murderer? Thanks."

He bumped her shoulder with his. "No, really. You're nice."

She grinned and leaned in closer in a conspiratorial sort of way. "I'm not actually that nice." She threw in a wink and watched as he turned scarlet, both of them laughing when his face matched Gryffindor's main colour. "We should probably get back to the castle. Wouldn't want to miss the Halloween Feast."

"That was the best feast yet," said Daphne as she, Kali, and Blaise collapsed on a silver-lined couch in the Slytherin common room's main parlour.

The flames from the candles and the many fires shone over the rivulets of silver that streaked the polished rock walls of the underground chamber. Behind the Basilisk-sized snake statue on the other side of the room, the giant glass window showed the dark depths of the lake.

According to Blaise, only Slytherins could appreciate this room's grandeur. If a non-Slytherin walked through the hidden dungeon entrance, the common room cast an illusion over itself so that the unwanted visitors saw only a bleak, damp cavern.

If that was true, it had to be a powerful illusion.

Mapped like a twisting serpent, a winding path led from the entrance to the main sitting area.

Along that path, neatly tucked away in alcoves that ranged in size, were the common room's personal library, a couple of secondary sitting rooms that were more peaceful than the main one, the trophy room filled with centuries' worth of prizes earned by Slytherins, brewing stations full of bizarre ingredients and rare collections that allowed for experiments at any given time, and a study room equipped with desks and practice dummies to invite students to master every aspect of their education.

The main sitting area had no less than four fireplaces and enough couches and armchairs to comfortably seat every Slytherin in the school and then some. Aquariums, statues, and bookshelves dotted the room, making it impossible to get a clear view of the entire floor plan.

The high ceiling was domed like that of a cathedral and overlooked two stone balconies, which belonged to two more drawing rooms, one for each of the dormitories.

Salazar Slytherin had spared no expense when he had built this room, and it showed.

"I cannot move," said Kali, her fingers trailing over the soft green blanket that had been thrown over the back of their couch. She had eaten more than should have been physically possible, but she did not regret it for a moment.

"I still don't understand how you can eat the way you eat and look the way you look," drawled Blaise, lounging on Kali's other side.

"It's called exercising," she said. "You should try it. It's fun."

Blaise scoffed. "I am not agreeing to any activity that makes me get out of bed at the ridiculous hours you do."

"I do not get out of bed at ridiculous hours."

"I woke up at seven yesterday, and you were already gone," Daphne pointed out.

"Extenuating circumstances," said Kali. "I had to finish the Transfiguration essay Professor McGonagall gave us."

"You finished that essay days ago," said Daphne.

"I wanted to add a couple of paragraphs about the risks that spell could have if cast on a magical creature."

Blaise twisted and heaved his legs onto Kali's and Daphne's laps. "Well, go on then," he said, "educate us."

Before Kali could explain the dangers of transfiguring a creature with magical properties due to the changes it caused on a cellular level, shouting erupted from the common room entrance. A moment later, Percy Weasley, the Head Boy, elbowed his way into the main sitting room.

"You are all to make your way to the Great Hall immediately," he said with a self-important tone and a chin raised as far up as it would go.

"Why?" asked Gemma Farley, a seventh-year prefect.

"Headmaster's orders. Now get to it."

Gemma was a nice enough person, but her eyes narrowed at his words and fingers twitched toward her wand. The common room held its breath, waiting for fireworks that never came because a first-year ran in after Percy. He panted as he shouted for all to hear, "The Fat Lady was attacked. They're saying it was Sirius Black!"

A/N: Sorry for the delay. My exams have me so preoccupied that I'm forgetting what day it is.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and as always, comments are greatly appreciated!