September 2, 1974

Professor Cuneif's classroom was a rather dreary affair. Regulus could smell the mildew in the air and wondered how long it had been since any creature had ventured into the dank corners of the room. There was barely room for the forty or so students which Ancient Runes brought in every day. Bookshelves covered the walls, mostly half-empty and covered with spider webs. Layered on top were the generations of yellowing posters full of archaic symbols and fading hieroglyphs.

Every day Regulus would come and sit at the same table over by the Sumerian section, avoiding the bumbling professor's gaze Last year this had been his slack-off class, where he worked on his other work and chatted with his friends. They'd all assured him they had signed up again for fifth year, but as the clock ticked steadily past the ten o' clock mark, Regulus felt quite peeved and began making plans in his head to put slimy things in their beds. The other four tables were full, mainly the same students in the same places as last year. Except for his table, in the corner, where he sat alone.

A great clearing of the throat issued from behind a stack of papers on the front desk, and the room fell silent. Professor Cuneif, a rotund man with a bowtie and spectacles, emerged and addressed the class.

"Welcome to your class of Ancient Runes. I'm so glad to see all of you here – Ms. McKinnon, will you please be quiet? – and hope we can have a productive and respectful year. As you all know, I am - "

The door creaked open and a scrawny girl entered, her arms laden with what seemed to be mouldy blankets. She stood at the front of the class for a moment, frozen, as dozens of eyes surveyed her. "Sorry, Professor, I just didn't know where the room was," she finally squeaked out.

He gave her a warm smile. "That's alright, Durnas, just take a seat over there," he said, gesturing to the corner where Regulus lay with his head on his arms. She hurried over and dropped the armload onto the table with a significant thud. Regulus looked up.

"Sweet Jesus, Dorcas, don't scare me like that," Regulus said, recognizing her face. "How is it that you manage to get me by surprise?" he muttered to himself.

She sat down on what looked to be a decaying chair, carefully perching on the wooden edge of the seat where she was pretty sure it hadn't rotted through yet. "You know, Regulus, my amazing powers of timing never cease to amaze even myself."

The professor carried on with his speech, a beautiful soliloquy to which Regulus had very little intention of listening.

He cocked an eyebrow at Dorcas. "What are you doing in level three runes? You're only a fourth year, right?"

Dorcas grinned. "I've been doing research over the summer," she said. "I was in our house, in the basement, looking for some of my grandmother's jewelry. She was an important historian, you know, and was said to have had some pretty valuable stuff. But anyways, I was working through the back basement when I touched a brick with my wand trying to get some light and poof! I found something!"

"What, like a torture chamber?" Regulus asked, remembering some of the exploring accomplished at his family's home.

She laughed. "My family's not quite as wicked as yours. It was a whole library! Full of my grandmother's books! And here's the thing: not a single one's in English."

"Why not hire a translator instead of taking a class?"

"Well," Dorcas said, "I really don't know what's in some of these books. Grandma died pretty suddenly and my grandfather did a good job of hiding what she was researching to make sure others couldn't get to it. My mother says not even he knew what she'd been working on during her last days. There could be something groundbreaking and original, or even something really dangerous."

"Did she write them all herself?" Regulus asked.

Dorcas chewed on her finger. "No, I don't think so. She was a historian, and about the time she died she'd been working for the Aurors. I'm thinking it'd all been confiscated and given over to her to study."

"There could be some really Dark spells in there, Dorcas.Your mother would let you translate this?" Regulus didn't think his parents would ever let him do such work. Declaring his brother dead to them had left Regulus the honor of being the sole heir of the Black family. Mrs. Black would make sure that no harm would ever come to him.

"Well, that's the thing," Dorcas said slowly. "I haven't really told them about everything I found. Not even Professor Cuneif knows about all of these. Like this." She pulled out a dusty tome from the bottom of her pile. It looked like someone had slashed the cover and there was an ashy burn where the title would be. Dorcas had wrapped strips of linen around it to keep the binding together.

"I don't even know what language this one is in. I've looked everywhere, in every library while we were overseas."

Regulus gently picked up the book, feeling the cover give with age. He looked closely at the title and made out a very faded mark resembling a lightning bolt. He gently touched the cloth with his fingersand felt the sharp pang of a spark, like steel on steel. Quickly he gave it back to her.

She took it and looked at it. "Creepy, isn't it? This is my project. I want to read this entire book before I'm done with this school. Promise you won't tell anyone?"

Regulus eyed the book, looking at the pages which seemed to have faded to black on the edges. He nodded. "Would you mind if I helped?"

"Of course not," Dorcas said, smiling.

"I just hope it's more than a recipe book," Regulus said.

Dorcas grinned. "That would be just my luck."