"Now blind, disheartened, shamed, dishonored, quelled,

To what can I be useful? Wherein serve

My oration, and the work from heaven imposed!

But to sit idle on the household hearth,

A burdenous drone, to visitants agaze,

Or pitied object." – Milton

I know this is coming out a bit later than planned on our schedule, however I was quite busy recently, as within the last several weeks I had to endure the end of term exams at my university, as well as start at my position with the local probation department. There is no telling when my coauthor will complete the next chapter, however I do believe that it will be within the next two to three weeks. We have come to the conclusion that we work better if we only trade off writing every three chapters, so the next three will be from my colleague. I do hope that everyone will enjoy this chapter and those to come. Thank you for your patronage and your patience.

Hogwarts University

Chapter 7 – What Choice Do We Have

* * * *

            "Good morning class."

            Miss Vesdemort scowled at the high-pitched and energetic greeting of Professor Ivy Flintbottom when she entered the Charms classroom. Lucinda hated having to take Charms, because every year they would have to practice charms and spells they had learned years before, and every year Lucinda would botch it up. It wasn't so bad now that she was in advanced classes, however, there were still the beginning of year reviews.

            "Welcome back to Charms fourth year Britholden girls, Slytherins, and Gryffindors. As I'm sure everyone has noticed there is a singing spell placed on the professors. It is quite a brilliant spell, and I'm quite proud that some of my students managed to pull that level of a spell off. But I must warn you all that such high level spells are difficult to perform and if not done properly will backfire in often most spectacular ways."

            Lucinda rolled her eyes and smiled patronizingly at the professor.

            Ivy smiled indulgently at Miss Vesdemort. "Miss Vesdemort, Wingardium Leviosa if you please."

            "Are you sure about that? You do remember what happened last year, right?"

            Ivy quirked an eyebrow, "There is always hope that you'll eventually get it right. Now if you please, Wingardium Leviosa. Swish and flick."

            Lucinda scowled and decided to indulge the professor, even knowing that her spell wouldn't work. Lifting her wand she aimed it at the stool set in the middle of the classroom. "Wingardium Leviosa."

            There was a smell puff of smoke and a pop, before a group of Gryffindors burst into nervous laughter.

            Professor Flintbottom bustled over to the giggling group of Gryffindors, "Move. Move. Let me see what's happened." Shoving students aside she tutted like a hen. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. How unexpected."

            Lucinda rolled her eyes, she had warned her professor. "What did I do this time?"

            Flintbottom turned to face Lucinda a tolerant smile on her face, a lilac-furred rabbit cradled in her arms. "I'm afraid you turned dear little Frances into a rabbit again."

            Lucinda snickered, "Want me to try again?"

            Flintbottom's smile disappeared as her eyes widened and she took an involuntary step back. "No, no. That's quite all right. Mister Harris could you please take Frances to the Mediwizardry building to get him turned back into himself?"

            The Slytherin keeper nodded before taking the Frances-rabbit from the professor, quickly leaving the classroom before allowing his laughter out.

* * * *

            Dinner that night was a quiet affair even given the rabbit incident and the breaking of the singing curse, as Dean Palmerdore had announced that there was going to be a Quidditch match one week from Sunday. They had yet to determine which teams were going to be playing and were not going to post who was playing until the Friday before the match.

            "Harry, are you going out for the house team?" Ron asked quietly.

            "What is the point? They already have a seeker."

            "I hear she's graduating in the summer."

            "Well then I'll try from seeker next year."

            "But you have to be on the team. I'm going out for Beater and they've got the keeper and a chaser spot open."

            "I'll think about Ron."

            "Well don't take too long. Tryouts are tomorrow night."

* * * *

            "Lucinda."

            The prefect of Britholden house shifted in her armchair before the common room's fire, to look at her mentor. Professor Dragnon was dressed in her dark violet Quidditch robes, her Infinity racing broom in her hand, her silver snitch whistle dangling from its delicate chain around her neck.

            "Yes Professor."

            "I have to supervise the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts tonight. Would you care to assist? There are several things I wish to speak with you about."

            Lucinda nodded, "I'll get my broom."

            Several minutes later the two women were talking quietly as they walked to the Quidditch pitch.

            "You really must work on your lower level charms Lucinda dear. I know that you aren't very gifted when it comes to the basic charms, but even Severus, as hopeless as he is at Charms and Transfigurations, can do a basic Wingardium Leviosa without turning someone into a rabbit."

            "I know Professor, but no matter how much I practice the lower level charms, I just can't get them right. I can do advanced charms with no problems, but the lower level ones…" Lucinda shrugged.

            "Just keep trying dear. I'm sure you'll get them eventually."

            Lucinda glared at her mentor. "I think that both you and Professor Flintbottom are just trying to torture me."

            Alendi smiled serenely at her student. "If we were trying to torture you, I'd be following Professor Snape's example."

            Lucinda's glare fell into a confused scowl, which on her cherubic face looked suspiciously like a pout. "What is he doing?"

            "Severus is turning over his trouble students to me."

            "You?"

            "I get to administer detentions and extra credit potions work. Actually," her face took on a thoughtful expression. "I could use an assistant. You wouldn't happen to know anyone who is qualified, would you?"
            Stopping Alendi waved to the Gryffindors gathered on the Quidditch pitch. "Good evening everyone." Noticing a lilac mop of hair she waved again, "Ah, there you are Frances. Feeling better I trust?" She asked as he hopped over to Lucinda's side, a noticeable spring in his step.

            "Oh yes, much better." Frances rubbed his nose as it twitched. "Never better."

            Alendi had to bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at the young man gazing adoringly at her favorite student as she tried to inch away from him. "I see Mister Potter is here."

            Frances turned his gaze back to the professor. "Oh yes. Mister Weasley managed to convince him to tryout."

            "Really is that so?"

            "Yes. He was reluctant to join, what with all of the Potions homework Professor Snape has given him this week."

            "Does he need any help?"

            Frances turned his adoring gaze back to Lucinda. "I'm sure that he wouldn't want to disrupt your day Professor. But perhaps he's accept help from the best potions student in the school."

            Lucinda rolled her eyes at his excessive flattery. "Must I Professor?"

            Alendi nodded. "Perhaps Mister Potter would respond better to a Potions tutor closer to his own age."

            "I'm sure he'd really appreciate it Miss Vesdemort."

            "Very well, I'll help the Potter brat."

            Alendi clapped her hands, her broom now floating lazily by her side. "Good. Now that that's settled, let's play Quidditch."

* * * *

            Vesdemort grimaced as a familiar shadow trailed over her Harlotry text and she had to force a smile onto her face when she turned. "Can I help you sir?"

            "I was wondering when you were going to help Potter with that Potions assignment that he can't figure out?" Frances asked, kneeling down in front of Vesdemort and setting his hands demurely in his lap. "And I was wondering..."

            "If I was still going tutor him?" the Britholden prefect finished.

            "You don't mind too much, do you?" Frances adopted the guise of a wounded puppy.

            "Have him meet me in the gardens by the statue of Dumbledore," she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose to stem an oncoming headache. "What sort of assignment is it?"

            "Some sort of extra credit nonsense with ingredients I've never heard of, though I've never been particularly good at Potions. I prefer Charms."

            "I'm sure you do," Vesdemort groaned at the expression her Harlotry Studies project gave her. "What's the potion supposed to do?"

            "It's supposed to be some healing potion. It's got some foul sounding ingredients: phoenix spleen, werewolf blood- haven't a clue where to get them."

            "Phoenix spleen isn't an organ, it refers to the ash of a newly burned phoenix of a certain age, and werewolf blood refers to the blood of one killed by a werewolf. Not particularly common ingredients, but I know where they can be purchased...for the right price."

            "You're the best, you know that don't you?" Frances launched himself at Vesdemort and embraced her tightly. "I'm looking forward to the Britholden-Slytherin match Sunday after next," he continued, bantering on to prolong the hug that Vesdemort was endeavoring to wriggle out of.

            "I thought you weren't interested in bloodbaths," she chuckled, finally giving up her resistance and slumping back into Frances' embrace. This project was the most humiliating thing she had ever endured. "Mister Kuiper, I do have work that needs to be done, as do you I'm sure. Have you even begun any of your term projects?"

            "I'll get it done in time, don't worry. You're far more interesting than a DADA project." Frances gave what he assumed was an alluring look and gave Vesdemort a quick squeeze.

            "If you don't watch those hands, no DADA lesson you've ever had will save you from what I'll do to you, are we understood?" Vesdemort slithered out of Frances' grasp and, picking up her books, headed back to Britholden house to research the potion she was to help Potter create.

*****

            "Mister Potter, so pleased you decided to join me, seeing as I took a considerable chunk out of my schedule for you." Vesdemort frowned at the first year as she stood, using her broom as a staff.

            "Sorry, Tort caught me on the way out of the house and wouldn't shut up." Harry snarled and cast a look back in the direction of his house. "I appreciate your helping me with this potion. Ron exploded one of ours in class and Snape failed us for the day, the only way I can make it up is with this extra credit assignment."

            "Always glad to help the truly dedicated with their potions, Mister Potter, the fewer fools mixing mayhem in their cauldrons the better. I trust you brought your broom?"

            "I wasn't aware we were flying," Harry frowned. "If you'll give me a moment I'll go get it."

            "No time, we've wasted enough of the day and I don't fancy traveling the marketplace at night. Hop on, we'll both ride my broom." In a flurry of red and black robes Vesdemort sat sidesaddle upon her broom and motioned for Harry to sit behind her.

            "Where exactly are we going?" Harry asked, quickly grasping Vesdemort's waist as her broom shot up into the air at a nauseating speed.

            "The only place to get your blasted ingredients - Knockturn Alley."

*****

            "I don't need extra credit," Harry whispered as he and Vesdemort navigated around the shady characters of Knockturn Alley.

            "Yes you do need the extra credit and please stop worrying, you're more than skilled enough to deal with any problems that come along." Vesdemort sighed then turned to face her pupil. "Now don't you go telling anyone I said this but you're going to be as great as Dumbledore someday Harry, you mark my words. I wouldn't be wasting my time in Knockturn Alley if I didn't believe that." Quickly she turned and continued walking, Harry traveling dazedly behind.

            There's more to her than I thought he mused, observing every aspect of the prefect before him. She walks with confidence and is unapologetically rude, but she seems to empathize more than people give her credit for.

            "Lucinda Ilzadora Riddle, why aren't you at school?" a deep, commanding voice called, cutting through Harry's reverie and causing the crowded street to part.

            "My father," Vesdemort whispered. "Just stay silent and do as I say." Vesdemort moved to stand between Harry and her rapidly approaching father. "And for Merlin's sake make sure that scar is covered."

            "Lucinda," Alexander Riddle began, his dark brows arching over ice blue eyes, "Why are you away from your studies? You'll never become a Minister if you neglect your classes."

            "Hello father," Vesdemort gave a small curtsy, "I was merely assisting a first year with an assignment per the request of my professor. We came here to collect some items."

            "Do you have a list?" Mister Riddle queried, wishing his daughter to validate her claims.

            "Raymond, kindly hand the list to my father."

            Harry refrained from scowling at Vesdemort's new name for him and handed his list to the imposing man before him who skimmed the list with a critical eye.

            "This won't come cheap," Mister Riddle mused, his mood lightening and a smile covering his scowl. "Do you have enough to cover this dear?"

            "Raymond's paying, they're for his assignment, not mine, and I'm sure he's got enough to cover it, if not I'll spot him until we can get to Gringott's." Vesdemort's frown never faltered as she looked eye to eye with her father. "How is mother doing?"

            "She had a flu last week but it's cleared up nicely. Your brother sends his regards as well; he's back for a rest after that tournament of his."

            "My brother plays for the Moutohora Macaws, father's fiercely proud of him though he pretends not to be," Vesdemort informed Harry in the same voice one might use to recite the periodic table.

            "Kenneth is a relief chaser this season and a starting beater," Mr. Riddle gloated. "League plucked him straight out of school."

            "And how are Pehrghery and Eve?" Vesdemort began walking toward an unsigned store and Harry followed close at her heels as did Mr. Riddle, who seemed to be a nicer chap than Harry had first believed him to be.

            "They're just fine dear, sent Eve off to Durmstrang this year, as you know, and she's been having a grand time, though it seems Pehrghery is demanding that we withdraw her from Hogwarts as she was sorted into Ravenclaw of all places."

            "I rather saw that one coming, she doesn't have the backbone to be a Slytherin, or even a Gryffindor, heavens forbid." As they entered the shop Vesdemort searched for the shopkeeper. "I'm not going to wait at this counter all day!" she called out after seeing no one there.

            "Keep your cape on you filthy little...Mister Riddle, Miss Riddle, so good to see you about." A gnarled, hunched figure limped out from behind a large swinging shelf. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

            "Devlar my daughter's pupil needs some items, put them on the house account." Mister Riddle handed the shopkeeper Harry's list then turned to his daughter. "Lucinda it was wonderful running into you, do come visit us the next chance you get, your mother has vapors when you're not there."

            "Of course father, send mother my love." The two lightly embraced then Mister Riddle walked out the shop door, vanishing halfway through. "He may not have McGaver's flare for dramatic apparitions, but he's still a showoff." Vesdemort grinned at Harry who chuckled.

            "Here're your items Miss Riddle, you take care of yourself and don't be a stranger!"

            "Of course not Devlar, good day to you." Vesdemort gave a small curtsy then grabbed Harry's arm. "Come on Harry, the less time spent here the better."

            "I thought it was going to be much worse," Harry admitted, hopping onto Vesdemort's broom.

            "You've met my father, it can't get more dangerous than that."

            "He seemed alright to me." Harry held on tighter as the broom shot up into the air, moving faster than before. "Miss Vesdemort, if you don't mind me asking...."

            "The name?" Vesdemort winced. "Harry, that's my kidney you're crushing."

            Harry loosened his grip. "The name," he reminded her.

            "When I got to Beauxbatons I was teased because of my last name. People knew about the more famous Riddle lineage and began calling me Vesdemort- a take on Voldemort you understand. It annoyed the hell out of me at first but then I figured it was better than having everyone know I shared a family tree with Him- not to mention I wanted nothing to do with my idiotic family. Liars and deceivers all of them, expect Pehrghery and myself, we seem to be the family conscious. Ah, here's the University." Vesdemort lowered her broom outside Gryffindor House and waited for Harry to make a hasty dismount. "I'll see you tomorrow after those ingredients have properly cured and we'll begin the potion. If you have any questions in the meantime you know where to reach me, good day Mister Potter."

            "Good day Miss Vesdemort." Harry paused, looking up at the hovering prefect. "You know, I really like Lucinda better." Quickly Harry entered Gryffindor House, leaving a now pondering prefect behind.

* * * *