The clock struck twelve times and throughout the school, midnight's spell was cast. Mrs. Norris was curled up in a tight ball at Filch's feet; McGonagall had just closed her latest mystery book and snuffed out the candlelight; Professor Trelawney covered up her crystal ball and tucked the sheets close under her chin; even poor Harry and Ron had fallen asleep in the common room an hour ago, arms wrapped about a yearbook, legs stretched out over loose pieces of paper, names scrawled in messy handwriting. Hermione sighed, at least they had tried to be helpful.

Since she was finally alone, she reached into her bag and pulled out the postcard book. There were only ten pages in the book and she was already up to page eight! She hoped that these last few postcards would yield the answers she was so desperate to find.

The eighth card was quite dark and very badly faded but it appeared to be some sort of tavern. Hermione flipped it over and was surprised to see a little poem penned on the back.

Ole Lady Pinkblinker serves up a toast-

A birthday comes once a year-

So don't be a ghost!

Tonight is your party-

And tomorrow it's through,

So- sneak out and meet us:

The Wailing Wench at 2!!

Knocturnally yours- GWILS

Hermione couldn't help laughing at the silly rhyme and the odd signature. Gwils? Perhaps it was a code for someone. Hermione stared at the picture. Lady Pinkblinker? Who on earth was she? And why was "nocturnally" spelled wrong? Hermione sighed, realizing that all this postcard had done was bring up even more questions! She leaned against an overstuffed chair and stared at the poem until she could close her eyes and still see it. "Knocturnally…Knockturn Alley! Of course!"

"What?...what happened?" Ron mumbled, half awake.

"Nothing- go back to sleep"

"Hermione? Is this a dream?"

"No Ron…this is a nightmare and unless you close your eyes and go back to sleep something horrible will happen to your pet turtle" she droned on with her best hypnotic voice until Ron was fast asleep again then she quickly threw on her coat and made for the fireplace.

"Knockturn Alley!"

"Lucius…what does young Mr. Crowe say today?" a voice like poison dripped around Mr. Malfoy in the dark.

"He needs more time…but he has discovered a connection between Severus and the Order…"

"I know of the connection Lucius…I need more." The voice echoed off the walls and seemed to be surrounding him now.

"Well, you see…my Lord…Crowe thinks…"

"I need more Lucius. I want to know more about Hermione Granger"

"That intolerable mudblood girl? Why?"

"Have Crowe find out all he can."

"My Lord, I hardly think.." Lucius felt a hand grip him in the darkness- as if it could reach inside his body and squeeze the blood from his heart.

"That's right Lucius…you leave the thinking to me"

The streets were slick with rain and black ice. A thick layer of fog clung to the buildings that lined Knockturn Alley. Hermione clung to the postcard, using the faded picture as a guide as she made her way down the alleyway. Everywhere she looked she saw warts and curved fingernails. The walls were cold black stone and seemed to reach for her as she walked by.

"Pardon me sir, do you happen to know the way to The Wailing Wench?" she asked as she tapped a one eyed wizard on the shoulder.

"Sure poppet…I know how to make a wench wail- that's for sure!" he lunged at the frightened little witch and grabbed her by the hair. "Such soft lovely locks you've got…bet they pay good for this kind of shrunken head at Borgin and Burkes!" His breath was foul and hot against her frozen skin.

"Get off me!" she screamed and broke free. She was content to give up on her wild goose chase right then but something caught her eye off at the other end of the alley.

"The Wailing Wench!" she squealed like a small child of six and went skipping over to the ominous tavern.

As Hermione pushed open the heavy wooden door she remembered the first time she had stepped foot in The Three Broomsticks. She had run away from home and spent a frightful night alone in one of the less than cozy upstairs rooms. She giggled to herself at the thought of how young she really was when she had sought her "independence".

"What's so funny sweetheart?"

"Yeah... you wouldn't be laughing at us now would you, love?"

"Horace, I think she wants a drink- what you think?"

"Oh indeed…pretty little mouth like that…you must be parched" the gangly man reached for Hermione and dragged her like a rag doll over to the bar.

"Oh, well…actually I…I don't drink."

"Well love, tonight's a great night to start!" The group of loud men smelled of gin, smoke and sweat. Hermione was in over her head.

"Hey! Irma! A round of firewhiskey for me and my lads…oh and one for this little lovely" he shoved Hermione up against the bar so that her stomach felt rather cramped.

"What are you doing with that little lass- she can't be a day over 13!" Irma chuckled.

"I am eighteen years old for your information and I should like to leave right now"

An uproar of laughter came from the rough group and Hermione began to wish she hadn't said anything. She decided to bolt while everyone seemed distracted by their drinks but one of the men pulled her coat, spinning her back into his arms and onto his lap.

"So- princess, what's a pretty little witch like you doing in Knockturn Alley this late?" Irma leaned forward and looked her square in the eyes.

"I…I was…I found this postcard you see and..." Hermione had never felt so flustered in her whole life. Even after basilisks, werewolves, trolls and a romp with the whomping willow, she was terrified and completely knocked for six at what to do.

"I think she come in here for a dance!" Three of the greasy wizards grabbed her and hurled her towards the dance floor. Hermione went spinning round and round until she felt quite sick.

"I think she come in here for a kiss or two!" Hermione let out a little scream and made a run for the door.

"Miss…Granger" the oily voice spread itself thickly across the entire room.

Hermione froze in her tracks, too afraid to turn around, yet relieved in the knowledge that she would be given detention as opposed to being man handled by toothless, drunken wizards.

"Miss Granger, I hardly think this is any place for a lone Gryffindor to be gallivanting around during a school week and decidedly long after curfew."

Hermione bit down on her lip and slowly turned on her heels to face him.

"Well…Mr. Snape…"

"Professor"

"Professor Snape…I hardly think this is any place for a man of your intellect to be wasting his mind away on cheap booze"

"Miss Granger I think you highly underestimate the value of Miss Pinkblinker's fine product…"

"Pinkblinker? Are you ' Ole Lady Pinkblinker'?"

Irma raised an eyebrow and approached the still trembling witch. "I am…but no one's called me a 'lady' for years!" she winked.

Hermione gave a little smile and returned her attention to her professor, who was sucking back yet another shot of whiskey. She grabbed the glass from him and slammed it down on the counter. They stared at each other in awkward silence for a full five minutes before Severus stood and pulled his cloak on.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor".

The early morning hours at Hogwarts were a magic all their own. The last rays of soft moonlight danced lightly through the stained glass windows and the wind echoed through the dungeons like some eerie lullaby. In the early hours, the castle belonged to the cold and you dared not exit the warmth of your bed for fear of becoming one with the all encompassing frost.

As Hermione wiped the floo powder from her nose, she realized she was not in Gryffindor common room at all, she was in Professor's Snape's classroom.

"I suppose you're going to report me to McGonagall" she mumbled.

Severus quickly rushed about his desk, grabbing paper, a quill and an inkwell. He slammed them down on one of the desks and turned his cold eyes on Hermione.

"You will sit here and write four hundred times that you will leave me alone and that you will not ever go wandering around in the middle of the night in one of the most dangerous places in all of London! You will also write that you are an insufferable know-it-all and that every time you put yourself in these compromising situations you are in fact spitting in your mother's face. Do I make myself clear, Miss Granger?"

"Tell me who Gwils is"

"What?"

Hermione pulled the postcard out of her pocket and handed it to him. A soft smile attempted to show through the dark professor's scowl.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because sir…I believe you are the 'severer of darkness' my mother spoke of in her letter to me"

Severus stared down at his feet; feelings of shame, doubt and confusion clouding his mind. Hermione sat down and began writing lines as Severus leaned against his desk staring blankly at the postcard in his pale hands. He had been a professor for so long that he had forgotten how to relate to people under any other terms.

"It stands for Gretchen, Warrick, Isabeaura, Lucius and Severus" he whispered.

Hermione put her pen down and stood to approach him.

"Sit down Miss Granger". Hermione remained standing as Severus moved towards her.

"Your mother was my best friend here at Hogwarts. She was very…you look a lot like her with your hair straightened like that…anyway, she was very beautiful; gentle and very intelligent."

Hermione calmly took her seat and let the tears spill from her eyes. This had been what she was looking for, this true insight into her mother's character. She was overjoyed as her professor continued to tell her stories of her mother's misadventures at Hogwarts and the colorful life she seemed to lead upon graduating. It all seemed so perfect.

"Miss Granger, I…I would advise you to put this silly search of yours to rest"

"I will- once I have every missing piece"

"What do you mean?"

"There is one more thing I need from you sir"

"You have only to name it" What was he saying? Severus tried to convince himself that he was drunk on whiskey and brandy wine; that he was tired and delirious with exhaustion…but there was no excuse for it, he genuinely cared.

"What was her last name?"

Severus felt the vice she had around his heart tighten. Why hadn't that old fool with the silly hats told her any of this? Was he going to be breaking some sort of oath if he told her? On the other hand, she deserved to know the truth, no matter how upsetting or disappointing it might be for her. It was her right and perhaps it was his right as her one time "would be" guardian.

"Miss Granger…"

"Please, call me Hermione"

She was killing him with her candidness.

"Miss…Granger…I strongly suggest that you lay this to rest…"

"Please professor"

Severus took a deep breath in and sat down next to her. He could feel the heat emanating from her eager spirit and he felt he would surely burn from such warmth.

"Miss Granger, that necklace you wear...with the twin snakes...your mother was a twin."

"Really? I knew she had a brother but I had no idea she had a twin sister!"

"Not exactly. You see, her brother was her twin." He took another deep breath in. "While Katrina, your mother, was the epitome of kindness, her twin brother was less than such."

"I see" Hermione bit down on her bottom lip.

"Miss Granger… Lucius Malfoy is your uncle".