So… I know I can get a little, um, long-winded at times, but this might be a bit extreme. There were supposed to be three scenes here, and it was planned to be fairly short, but instead you get two that are much longer than I wanted them to be. My muse is going to be a little less chatty next time, I promise.

Oh, and you can thank Aelphais for this chapter's title. I couldn't think of anything better for it, anyway.

Disclaimer: Did Pottermore claim that Eloise Mintumble's Time-Turner trip back to 1402 caused twenty-five people to be "un-born", even though the climax of book 3 is only possible if actions taken while time-traveling are already part of the original timeline? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whomever else she sold the rights to.


Chapter 6
Unspeakably Black

The crowd pressed around Jen as she walked through the Atrium of the Ministry. It was rather amusing having everyone pass her without taking a second glance at her mousy brown hair and faint tan, but the awkward texture of the glamour wrapped around her stole away much of the entertainment value. When she needed to move about unseen, she greatly preferred being truly invisible or twisting her flesh into the shape desired. Physical changes had always come easily to her, even before she learned it was due to her then-distant connection to the Black family, so she had never become familiar with how uncomfortable illusions felt when she was the one inside them. This was the spell that had been stored inside the letter she had received two weeks earlier, however, and the identity of those who had sent it was reason enough for her to put up with it.

It was still a good thing that she had no intention of staying inside this glamour for very long. A moment to let the security guard register her wand – actually her many-great-aunt Elladora's – at the front desk, and then she was through the golden arch that led to the lifts headed downward. Picking one that was relatively empty, she smiled faintly when the last of the three people inside offered her an inquisitive look before he stepped out onto the eighth floor. The lift started moving yet again, going deeper to the very base of the Ministry building, and a tingle washed over her as the glamour was nullified.

"Level nine, Department of Mysteries."

"Right on time, Miss Black," the man waiting for her just outside the grille said. She frowned to herself upon noticing that his face was blurred out, and even her sonar only reported back a vague fuzz. This was not the first spell to interfere with her primary sense, that honor being claimed by the Notice-Me-Not charm, but total obfuscation of the senses was nonetheless rare. Threads of magic dropped down from the haze to latch on to his otherwise unremarkable belt; only now that she was paying closer attention did she realize the buckle of said belt was covered with strange glyphs along the edges. The distortion that stymied her promptly disappeared to reveal an older man with thick grey hair when he continued, "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Saul Croaker."

"The pleasure is all mine," she demurred. "It's not everyday I make the acquaintance of the head Unspeakable."

Surprisingly, the only thing her bit of flattery earned her was a jovial laugh from the wizard. "I don't know why people always make that assumption. Come, come," he invited, waving her to follow him while he walked down the short jet-black hallway where a single door awaited them. "I'm just one of the few members whose identity the general public knows; we make up the face of the Department, you could say. In reality, I'm simply the liaison between us and the Ministry at large."

The fact that there would need to be a liaison between the Ministry and one of its own offices struck her as exceedingly odd, and her curiosity must have been visible because Croaker helpfully explained, "Have you ever wondered why we are called 'Unspeakable'? It's because so much of what we do is classified, though perhaps not for the reasons you'd first think. We do not talk about our work because if we did, it is inevitable that information we cannot have leaking out to the general public would find its way to them."

"But why is it classified in the first place?" Her smile gained the faintest hint of an edge. "I assumed it was because of the rumors you study evil dark magics, but…"

Croaker turned to look at her, his hand on the doorknob. "While magic does exist on a spectrum," he answered bluntly, "and, for the sake of convenience, we do refer to it as light and dark, magic has nothing to do with morality. Despite the assumptions the common wizard makes, light spells can be used to harm another person just as easily as dark spells can. Whether any particular instance of magic is good or evil is entirely the result of who uses them and for what purpose."

Withholding a smirk, she just nodded in understanding. Dark magic might not be evil by default, but there were examples that most assuredly were. That she knew from personal experience.

"No, the reason so much of what we discover is classified is so we might ensure and promote public safety."

"…Public safety."

"Indeed," he replied, ignoring her skeptical tone. "Do you know how much magic the average person knows once they leave school and spend a few years out in the world working for a living?" The man did not wait for her to answer before he continued, "They will be comfortable casting perhaps three hundred spells, and those they use on a more regular basis, daily or weekly or the like, number only around fifty. Most people will never need to defend themselves in the normal course of their lives, so why is Defense Against the Dark Arts a required class in every school in the country?"

Jen blinked, puzzled by the non sequitur. "In case the worst should happen and they can't get to safety without putting up a fight?"

"Close enough. I once heard the reasoning phrased this way: In a world where everyone receives a loaded gun at eleven, it would be a folly to be the only one on the street who can't shoot back if needed. You never know where an attack would come from." He frowned. "You do know what a gun is, yes? You have some familiarity with Muggle technology?"

"Enough to be amazed at how few wizards can pronounce 'technology'."

He smiled a touch at that. "Yes, well, it's one of the benefits of growing up in the Muggle world. The reason I ask is so I know you will understand what I'm about to say. In the course of our research, we long ago discovered that the axiom I told you is inaccurate. A wand is not a loaded gun; it is instead a vast armory, filled with clubs and arrows, explosives, chemical and biological weapons, and every possible instrument of death in between. The public is terrified of Voldemort because of how unpredictable he can be, pulling out spells most people had never considered possible before seeing them used on their family and friends." Croaker shook his head and ushered her through the doorway into a round room surrounded by yet more doors. "Oh, how they would react if we told them that even Voldemort had barely scratched the surface of what we all are really capable of. Magic, much as we love it and find it fascinating, can be incredibly dangerous, and making that fact widely known would do little but terrify the public. Far better that we keep that information from them. As patronizing as it sounds, it really is for their own good."

The charms on the floor creeped up to tie themselves securely around Jen's ankles when he closed the door they had just walked through, and she forced herself not to react when the floor began to spin and the doors arrayed around them whirled around and around in a dizzying blur. A couple of deep breaths fought down the nausea, though she worried it was a near thing. Beside her, Croaker stood unaffected, but he did not have a sixth sense that told him it was the floor that was moving while his eyes and ears insisted it was the walls. She almost envied him that, but her motion sickness faded quickly enough once they came to a halt. "If," she gasped, the last few quivers in her gut settling, "if you think you have such a good reason for making what you do so classified, why did you invite me on a tour of the place? I'd think you'd want to keep your secrets a secret, not spill them to every witch who gets curious."

"We do, but you're a bit of a special case," he said with a smirk.

"Surely a fifth-year wanting to join your ranks isn't that unusual," she scoffed. She would have to do something nice for Flitwick when she next saw him, though. He was the only person who knew of her decision to apply to the Department of Mysteries once she graduated, yet they had referenced that in their letter. He must have sent someone a note about her; it was the only explanation that made sense for how they could possibly know that.

"You'd be surprised, but no. We actually had our eyes on you even before we found that out."

Now that was interesting. Why would the Unspeakables think she was different? There was really only one thing jumping out at her. "Because I won the Triwizard Tournament? It was difficult, yes, but surely not that impressive."

"That played a small role, I suppose," Croaker agreed, "but what really got our attention was watching you break in so you could listen to a certain prophecy."

Jen took a wary step back, her attention now fully on the bland brown eyes that held a far-too-knowing glimmer in them. She had broken into the Department of Mysteries once, true, but that had been a full year previously. If they really knew about what she had done, surely she would have done something about it before now. And their claim that they had watched her do so was ludicrous! There had not been a single person in sight while she was there. "I don't know what you're talking—"

"I already told you that magic can be dangerous, and in the course of our work, we sometimes push farther than we can really cope with at the time. We have had some awful accidents happen in the middle of our experiments, so about a century ago we installed a number of devices in the walls and ceilings so that, in case something horrible did happen, we would be able to see what went wrong and come up with ways to avoid the same thing happening again in the future. They are always on and recording, just in case somebody stumbles upon a stroke of inspiration in the middle of the night and can't wait till the morning to see if it works."

He grinned, the expression of honest amusement driving Jen back another step. Within the Ministry, much like most of the world, her sonar extended a paltry four meters from her body; it was entirely possible that she could have walked past these security measures and been totally unaware of their presence. Power welled up in her hands as another thought sprang to mind; if they had recorded her while she was there, then that meant they also—

"I have to say, we were beyond shocked at what we saw. Perfect invisibility, pure wandless magic, unaided flight?" Her eyes narrowed at that blithe recount of just a few of the abilities she did her best to keep hidden, not that he seemed to care. "Many of us were practically drooling at the prospect of enticing you to return, and then the interest you showed in the library? If we hadn't found out you planned to apply for a position with us, we had several strategies with which to… encourage your cooperation."

That wasn't ominous or anything. "I'm surprised you would do that," she said instead. "One might think you would not invite someone you're accusing of intruding to come poke around even more."

Croaker smiled. "Should you decide to join us, you would not be the first person we recruited because you did something that brought you to our attention. Most of our current security measures were actually developed by the very people who used their absence to sneak around where they weren't wanted. That you could move around so easily…" He shrugged. "I, our security team, and the director all agree that you have much you can teach us."

"I see." She glanced around in the vain hope of perhaps spotting the cameras. "And if, hypothetically, I decided I didn't want to work as an Unspeakable, after all?"

"We still have the recordings of your first trip here, and, well, trespassing onto government property is a felony. Combined with poking your nose into classified material, it would not be totally beyond the realm of possibility for you to be declared a threat to national security, which imposes an even greater punishment than you would ordinarily be sentenced to. It's the reason Augustus Rookwood, a former employee of ours, was given a life sentence in Azkaban despite never taking part of any of the Death Eaters' activities beyond offering information. I doubt that's how you envisioned your future playing out, am I right?"

Sparks swirled and static crackled up and down her arms, a few bolts of electric fury striking the floor, though right now Jen really did not care. They already knew. So many of her secrets, known to potentially every member of the department. To make things worse, none of her normal strategies for handling threats like this would work here. There was actual footage of her actions, too many people had seen said footage for her to rewrite everyone's memory, and any attempts at hiding the evidence of her hiding the evidence would likewise be recorded and could tip someone off about just what she was doing. Nor could she just kill everyone here and destroy the entire department, much as she liked that particular option more and more as this conversation went on; should she be seen, the chances of people escaping and revealing her actions shot up to a near certainty. They had her over a barrel, she knew they did, and they knew she knew.

Back before Sirius found her at Candyland, she had overheard idle speculation from some of their clients that MI5 and MI6 had started recruiting people who hacked into their databases to work for them as an alternative to going to jail. Now she understood what that felt like.

"But I doubt it will be a problem," Croaker said. Walking over to one door, he pulled it open and waved for her to join him. "Come. I did promise you a tour, didn't I?"

"Going to show me the desk I'll be chained to once I graduate?" she snarked bitterly.

The wizard sighed. "Miss Black, just because your mistakes are coming back to haunt you does not mean that you won't enjoy a career here. After all, you already indicated your interest, and if I had not said anything to you about the recordings, you would be perfectly happy with what we offered you in the letter." She knew she did not look convinced, so he continued, "Don't think of this as a punishment or something you are being forced to do. Instead, what was once an interview has now been upgraded to your preemployment orientation. Few sixth-year Hogwarts students can boast that they already have their dream job set up and waiting for them once they leave school."

Jen wandered over to the tank of greenish water sitting in the middle of the room and stared for a moment at what was contained inside. She had seen brains before, both inside the skull and outside, and she therefore knew they did not have long black tentacles dangling from the brainstems. She was also fairly sure they did not writhe and pulse like jellyfish to move through the environment. Deciding the conversation was more sane than watching disembodied brains swim about, she countered, "Fewer students get told they can either work for the job that's set up for them or spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban. You can understand why that might dim my enthusiasm."

"It doesn't have to." The wizard walked up to join her. "My father was an Unspeakable, you see. He received the same offer you have, in his case because he was controlling small insect statues remotely and using them to read the books in the library without anyone knowing, or at least no one that he was aware of. The Unspeakables at the time spent three months tracking him down." Croaker smiled. "After sixty years here, he was given the opportunity to retire, all his mistakes forgiven. Do you know what he did? He stayed on for another twenty-three years because he just enjoyed the job so much. 'Every day's an adventure over there, Saul', he told me when I was deciding what I wanted to do for a living, 'and better yet, at the end of every day you have the guarantee that the adventure will leave you with some new wisdom, even if it wasn't what you were looking for'. I'm not saying you can't be upset at the circumstances, but perhaps you should hear just what is being offered before you start seriously considering whether prison would be worse."

"Okay, fine." She turned to look at him, challenge obvious in her eyes. "Since you clearly want to make a sales pitch so badly, do it. Why, even if I wasn't being forced into it, should I want to work as a Ministry grunt?"

"Because you already wanted to do so sight unseen, and if you're the type of person I think you are, you'll enjoy the opportunities available to you." One of the doors to the side opened, and a trio of people walked out. If they were surprised at the sight of a stranger standing in the middle of their workspace – something Jen could not tell from their faces because they were covered by the same fuzz that had previously hidden Croaker's identity – they made no mention of it and instead passed her to jot some notes in the journals laid out on a nearby desk. "There are nine broad fields we are studying currently," Croaker told her, pulling her attention away from the new Unspeakables. "In this room, we research the mind and memories. How memories are formed and stored, what happens when we forget things, whether memories can be transferred from person to person directly or if they can only be described and relayed secondhand via words and pictures. In the process, we have also made major strides in understanding the details of how language forms, how our senses are integrated together, and even where the concept of 'self' comes from. All very interesting, though not my own area of expertise."

Despite her irritation, Jen had to give him credit. His sales pitch was working. Rather than admit that yes, that did sound very interesting, she instead asked, "And what is your area of expertise, then?"

"I'm an alchemist by training, so I work in our potions lab. Most independent brewers focus on potions that are of immediate utility, even those given to research rather than retail, so what we work on is generally more… esoteric." Croaker shrugged at her incredulous expression. "My knowledge comes in handy when identifying just how different reagents should interact with each other, and I also led the team researching potion effects on inanimate or magical objects before I transitioned to my current position."

"I thought alchemy required completing a Mastery program."

"It does, but that is one of the beauties of working here. When you have access to devices that let you travel back in time, holding a full-time job and undertaking an post-graduate apprenticeship at the same time is more than possible," he said with a rakish grin.

"And just what Masteries would you tell me I am allowed to pursue?"

He rolled his eyes at her belligerence. "Whatever you like, though which Mastery you pick would likely have an influence on what projects you would work on later. There's no point in sending a Herbology Mistress into the Space Room to study the mechanics of Apparation or the Unplottable Charm or what the geography of Jupiter looks like when she would be happier and more useful working on crossbreeding magical plants or even trying to produce a viable plant-animal hybrid. Yes, we have tried that, and yes, we have even had some limited successes," the wizard said in answer to her astonishment. A knowing look crossed his face. "When I first started, we even had a Master of the Dark Arts working in our Scripture Division who had made it his life goal to discern the underlying theory behind ritual magics, but we haven't had anyone with his skill set since his retirement. Maybe, if you did well on the Dark Arts Competency you took a few weeks ago"—of course they would know about that—"you could fill that gap in our ranks, though it would be entirely your choice."

"You seem abnormally interested in giving me choices and keeping me happy for telling me not five minutes ago that I didn't have a choice in whether I work for you or not," she pointed out.

"Because we have found that people are more cooperative with others and more engaged in what they're doing if they're happy. I wasn't joking when I said people have died during their experiments, and the last thing we need is you thinking about how much you hate your work instead of paying attention to what you are doing and getting yourself and everybody around you killed.

"If we walk this way," he told her as he directed her to the door the other Unspeakables had walked through, "you can see the portal system we have installed. The different rooms in the department are not physically connected to each other; we felt doing so would cause too much disturbance if somebody decided they needed to consult a colleague who was studying a different subject and had to traipse through several rooms to get to him, and trying to walk back and forth through the central room and reorienting yourself every time it spins around got old very, very quickly. Instead, the doorways are set to open up to whatever room you ask for. If you do not state your specific destination, it will lead you to a random location. I believe you figured that part out for yourself," Croaker added with a smile. "Library."

Pulling the door open revealed the same array of stacks and shelves she had found on her last visit here, though now there were far more people around. "This is the room we spend the majority of our time in," he admitted, "especially when we first start out. There is little point in jumping into an experiment if it has already been performed. Those early years are also the best time to go for a Mastery should you choose to do so. Personally, I found that it was nice to get my mind off potions and transfiguration and read something else for a little while. In the back, you'll find offices, including mine and the director's, as well as dorms to rest in if you have to wait on an experiment in the middle of the night and don't want to head home just to return in a few hours.

"The library cannot be accessed from the Rotunda, the central entrance room. The door you see at the front instead leads to a small foyer that in turn opens up to our isolation room." Jen raised one eyebrow in curiosity. "Accidents happen, but when you have a reason to suspect that your experiment might go wrong before you start, it is clearly not something you should run in our normal laboratories. Instead, it should be done in the isolation room, where we have much more stringent containment protocols and security measures."

Walking over to the indicated door, Jen stopped when she felt the sheer power of the spells radiating from the dark wood. She glanced over her shoulder to find Croaker watching her with undisguised curiosity. They already knew she had extraordinary abilities, and of all her secrets, her magical sensitivity was the one she cared about least. If she was going to work with these people, there was little point in keeping that up her sleeve, even if she had no plans ever to reveal the true depths of her ability. "It's locked up tight, isn't it? Unraveling the spell on it would take a while, but I can still tell nothing normal would be able to get through."

The Unspeakable smiled at her. "That's right. Special keys are needed to get through the two sets of doors between the isolation room and either the library or the Rotunda, and those keys are held solely by the director. It serves as a good reminder that if you want to work on something that dangerous, you should probably get it approved before you actually start the experiment. One cannot simply break into the room, either; the room is actually isolated physically as well as magically. Once the doors are closed, the only hope anything we lock up inside has for freedom is to claw through a kilometer of solid rock and then cross three more of sea. No one else was using Bardsey Island," he said with a laugh, "so why shouldn't we? It's not like anybody would be in immediate danger even if something did break through to the surface."

From there, Croaker continued her private tour. The Time Room, where she saw the Time-Turners the man had mentioned earlier, as well as some of their other experiments. The Space Room with the replica solar system she had flown among the year before. The Prophecy Room, though they did not linger long; this, he told her, was his least favorite of the subjects the Unspeakables studied because of how boring he found listening to old prophecies and trying to figure out what they meant and if they had already come to pass. The Soul Room, which they promptly left so they would not disturb the crowd of wizards huddled around a ghostly shadow that floated above a comatose figure. The Scripture Room with the chalkboards she had already seen, where the Masters of arithmancy and runes did most of their work because they could write out their equations or scripts for the rest of the group to examine.

"Only one more place to show you, and it really is the most mysterious of our mysteries," he said with a sneaky smile. "Veil Room."

The room that was revealed was dark and empty, stone steps leading down the gentle slope to a dais in the middle of the space. Jen slowly walked down to it, eyes glued to a pointed archway floating in the air and the thin, gauzy curtain that hung from it to brush against the floor. A shiver raced down her spine when she got close enough to feel the chill of the energy emanating from the curtain, which to her sonar was not cloth so much as solidified magic of the darkest kind. That was not the eeriest thing about it, though. "Is it supposed to be whispering?"

"Indeed, though the whispers are interesting. We've found that everybody who can hear the voices can also see thestrals." She glanced up in surprise, and he continued, "It is the reason some people have taken to calling this the Veil of Death, after the more metaphorical veil people are said to pass through after dying."

She looked at the curtain with new respect. If this really was a physical passage from life to the Labyrinth, it was truly a terrifying thing. Then again, she would also expect anything that led to Death's realm to be rife with the awe-inspiring power that her sonar could not detect, yet she felt no holes in the world around the artefact. "Wherever did you find it?"

"There is a small island off the northern coast of Norway that the local wizards named Mímir, after a figure from Norse mythology. Four hundred years ago, some Unspeakables traveled there, and the inhabitants showed them where this was and told them it was called the Well. No one knew who made it or what it did, but the people were afraid of it enough to let the Department bring it back to Britain."

"Has anyone gotten a Muggle to toss an eyeball in and see if it turns him into a wizard?" she could not help but ask.

"Of course they did. It didn't work. From the sound of the experiment, however, that Muggle was not exactly willing, so that might have had something to do with the failure." He shrugged. "Or maybe not. Centuries later, we still don't know exactly what it does or how it does it. Inanimate objects go through as though the Veil weren't there unless they are attached to something living, and living things never make it out. We've put monitoring charms on the animals we sent through to see what happened to them, but they fail as soon as the creatures vanish. Spells just slip through like inanimate objects. It is incredibly frustrating to have a one-of-a-kind artefact like this in our hands and not know what to do with it," Croaker muttered, "yet at the same time it is equally interesting. This is the kind of thing that motivates us: shining light on the unknown, teasing out hints about the nature of magic. There is still so much about the world we don't know, and that is not something we will abide.

"So," he asked, holding out his hand as though in invitation, "what do you think? Do you think unraveling mysteries will appeal to you? Can you see yourself as one of us, an Unspeakable?"

Jen took a deep breath and let it out. She was still furious about the underlying situation, and especially her own negligence in allowing it to come about, but she did her best to keep that anger out of her voice. "It's better than prison, I suppose. And no one outside this department knows about what I did?"

"It's just us. Rufus Scrimgeour, and Amelia Bones before him, do not have a high opinion of making deals with those who break the law. Briefing them would have run counter to our plan."

"Well, then," she said with a sigh as she grasped his hand with her own, "I guess all I can say is, I look forward to working with you."


A pair of letters plopped down in front of her, and Jen glanced up at the wizard who was grinning far too widely at her. "Yes?"

"Take a look at the seal on the back."

Flipping the first letter over, the corners of Jen's mouth spread wide as she took in the design of the seal. It was similar to the general Ministry's seal, a large 'M' with a few sparks spread around, but here the wand in the middle of the 'M' had been replaced by a quill. There was only one thing the Department of Magical Education would be writing her about. "My OWL results, you think?"

"Wha' elfe coul' i' be?" Dora demanded, a slice of toast sticking partway out of her mouth. Swallowing the lump of food, she ordered, "Well, don't keep us in suspense. Open it!"

She happily obliged. "'Salutations, Miss Black. We wish to congratulate on your recent scores on the Ordinary Wizarding Level exams' … blah, blah, blah … 'All the best on your future academic endeavors.' Nice little form letter they've got." A roll of her eyes at her cousin's impatient hand-waving, and she pulled out the second sheet of parchment contained inside the envelope.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS
Pass Grades
Outstanding (O)
Exceeds Expectations (E)
Acceptable (A)
Fail Grades
Poor (P)
Dreadful (D)
Troll (T)

"It may come as a shock to you," Andi said in a droll voice, "but we do know all this already. Get to the point before Cissy grows any more white hairs."

"You know damn well I've had these since I was born. And you don't get to crack any age jokes at my expense, anyway, big sis. You're five years older than me!"

Jennifer Bellatrix Black has achieved:
Ancient Runes O
Arithmancy O
Astronomy A
Charms O
Defense Against the Dark Arts E
Herbology A
History P
Potions O
Transfiguration E

A displeased sigh passed her lips. "I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised at the History mark," she eventually said. "Umbridge did say that only something like thirty-five percent of students pass it, after all, and it's entirely possible that I just barely failed."

"Be that as it may," Cissy said, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, "the rest of your scores are exceptional. Top marks in both Runes and Arithmancy, the two hardest classes Hogwarts offers? And an Outstanding in Potions, which you need if you want to join the NEWT sessions. Why, except for Herbology, you can continue on in all of the subjects you were previously taking that actually offer courses in the sixth and seventh years, and Herbology is a field with extremely limited utility. Practically every opportunity you could want is available to you!"

"Very true," added Sirius. "You know, you never have told us what you wanted to do with your life. Well, what you want to do besides dealing with the Wizengamot and House issues, for which I still think you're crazy."

"A little hypocritical of you, considering that's what you do all day, don't you think?" Ted asked in a bland voice.

"I do it because it needs to be done. She wants to do it. Big difference there."

"Well…" Now was as good a chance as ever, she supposed. "You remember how I went to the Ministry a few days ago? I told you it was essentially an interview." The rest of her family leaned closer in anticipation. "It went well, so I definitely have a job waiting for me once I graduate."

Dora shook her head. "You still haven't said who it's with. All I know is that it isn't with the DMLE because my dearest, most darling-est cousin would never come to the office and not swing by my desk to say hello and go out for lunch." The enormous puppy dog eyes, blue irises growing to cover her entire visible sclerae, went well with the whining voice.

"No, it wasn't with the DMLE. I was actually meeting with the Unspeakables."

The rest of the House gave her a round of congratulations at that, and she smiled at their warm acceptance before pulling out the second letter. "It's from the ICW," she told them in surprise.

Anxious silence filled the room, the only sound her cutting through the envelope. "'Miss Black: We at the International Confederation of Wizards, Education Division, Office for Unaffiliated and Self-Study Students, are pleased to release the scores for the International Competency Exams you have recently taken. Please note that 3/5 is considered a passing score, and 4/5 is necessary to qualify for the Proficiency Exam in that subject.'"

"Not too different from the OWLs, then," Ted pointed out.

She nodded, her grin growing wider as she looked at the score before her. "'You have been awarded: Offensive Magic and the Dark Arts, 5/5."

The other Blacks appeared unsure whether to congratulate her or not for acing an exam on magics that were illegal in Britain. The other Blacks bar Cissy, that was, who merely gave her shoulders another squeeze and smiled brightly. "That is fantastic, Jen."

"Thanks, Auntie. The rest is more form letter, but…"

Pulling out the other slip of parchment, she scanned it before handing it over to her favorite family member to read. Contained within had been the requirements for taking the Dark Arts Proficiency, which she would need to pass if she wanted to be licensed to use dark magic on the Continent, and while most of the list was expected – various spell categories and theory portions, for which a list of recommended textbooks had been helpfully included – what really caught her attention was the unusual requirement for the practical exam.

"'All students who wish to receive a dark magic license must also demonstrate proficiency in and control of two branches of the Dark Arts and be evaluated by a wizard or witch currently licensed in those branches. A list of examples has been provided, though any field may be tested on so long as prior approval has been granted by the ICW Education Division,'" Andi read after claiming the note from her sister. "'The deadline for submitting your selection is 1 June of the year before you intend to sit the exam. Earlier notification is, of course, greatly appreciated.' And there's a very long list following it."

"So," Sirius asked in a voice of forced cheer, "what illegal spells are you going to spend the next two years learning how to cast?"

Summoning the list back to her, Jen scanned over her options. "My first one is obvious. Blood magic." Sirius and Dora frowned, but after a moment their Head of House nodded in understanding. Blood magic was something they had numerous books on in the library, and she had already read through several of the introductory texts on the subject. It was admittedly not something she was well-practiced in, mostly because it was incredibly complicated and every bit of blood magic one used whittled away at the caster's life-force, something she had not known until the previous summer, but that field would be the easiest for her to master.

And, thankfully, the cost to her vitality was exceedingly minor for the majority of the spells she would be working with, so she would not have to worry about shortening her lifespan by any significant degree while she was practicing.

"As for the other…" Memories of a conversation she had once had about a man who had mastered calling forth creatures from other realms flashed through her mind's eye before she shook them away. "I'm not sure at the moment. I guess it's a good thing I have a while to make up my mind."

Sirius clapped his hands. "Well, that's all well and good, but more importantly, you need to write a letter to Flitwick. It's not required but still customary to notify the head of your Hogwarts house about what NEWT classes you'll be taking. And I guess you won't be doing like I did and taking only the fun stuff, either," he said with an expression of joking distaste. "Arithmancy and Runes, yuck."

"Runes are fun," she and Andi said together.

"See what I mean, Ted? She's completely crazy. What normal person would—" A conjured and banished pillow slammed into his face, the force tipping his chair over and dumping him onto the kitchen floor. Ted, being far smarter than Sirius, took one look at his wife's raised wand before he lifted his hands in the air and kept his mouth shut.


I had a great laugh last book when several people said that anything Jen attempted seemed destined to go through without a hitch. This thing, with an entire department of the Ministry learning some of Jen's biggest secrets? This had already been in my notes for months at that point.

As you should probably be able to guess from the changed purpose of the "Ever-Locked Room", I'm not a fan of Rowling's position that love is some great and dangerous force that needs to be locked away for it to be studied safely. I don't even know where she was going with that, to be totally honest, unless it was to set up the fact that Dumbledore's "make love, not war" attitude is what set up the entire series and especially the complete clusterfuck that was book 7. Instead, I decided to take that room and make it a little more practical.

Silently Watches out.