Gathering Information

The five friends walked back from the Tower to the corner that led to Diagon Alley
in silence, too shocked by the recent turn of events to speak. It had stopped raining by then, though the sky was still a leaden gray and the streets slick with rain. They tapped on the wall and slipped back into the wizarding side of London. Once they had gone past Ollivanders, Arista turned to Mel and asked if the taller girl would like to spend the night at her house. "You could sleep downstairs on the sofa in the den, no problem."

But Mel shook her head slowly. "Thanks, but I can't. I just . . .need some time to,
uh, think about this alone, okay? And maybe I can ask the folks too, in a roundabout way, I mean. See if there are any stories about ghostwalkers in my family."

Arista eyed her with concern in her dark eyes. "You sure, Mel?"

"Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow morning on my spellophone. See you!" Then she
mounted her broom and soared into the sky, heading towards her house, which was right next to Diagon Alley.

Trish, Arista, Kit, and Drake watched her go. "Think she'll be okay?" Kit asked
worriedly. "She was real shook up by Anne Boleyn and all."

"Can you blame her?" Trish asked, frowning.

"No," Drake said. "Although being a ghostwalker sounds pretty neat."

"As long as you don't have to break curses set by necromancers," Arista reminded
him. "That's what's got her so worked up, and I don't blame her one bit."

Kit looked at his watch and swore softly. "Aww, hell! I'm gonna be late for dinner
if I don't hurry, and it's my brother's birthday." He mounted his broom, a Zephyr 2000. "My mum'll have my head if I miss Nigel's celebration. Call me tomorrow, all right?"

"See you, Ambrosius!" Drake waved, as Kit took off. Then he turned to the girls and
said, "I've got to run too, I promised my dad I'd help him with some of his patients. We've got a pregnant pegasus due to foal soon and a phoenix with a broken wing and a unicorn with a cracked fibula." Drake's dad, Dr. Lockwood, was a Magical Creatures vet.

Arista whistled. "Sounds like you've got a busy night ahead of you, Drake."

Drake shrugged. "Business as usual at the clinic. Dad's always got a lot of patients.
But the pegasus mare's shy, doesn't like too many people. She lets me stroke her though, and usually snaps at everyone else, she nearly kicked Dr. Irina, my dad's partner, over the fence when she went to examine her the other day. They tend to grow cranky this late in their term. So Dad told me I'm a calming influence on her and he needs me to hold her head and stuff."

"You gonna watch her foal too?" Arista asked, curious.

"If my dad needs me to, then yeah." Drake replied calmly. "I've assisted him with
births before, but usually only cats and dogs. And they're a lot different from pegasi."

"And you're not, uh, freaked out or anything, Drake?" Trish asked.

"No, at least not anymore," he laughed. "The first time I ever assisted him with a
litter of puppies, I nearly threw up, and he yelled at me for being squeamish. After that,
though, I was all right. The mother does most of the work, we just stand around and watch, mostly."

"Who does the mare belong to?" Arista asked.

"A Miss Berkley. She's a big fan of the pegasus races in America, this foal's sire
was one of the top racers over there, so we've got to be extra careful with this delivery. This foal's worth about five hundred Galleons, I think."

Trish whistled.

"Yeah, and if I don't get home, I'm gonna be in for it. See you two tomorrow."
Lockwood said, then he too mounted his broom and flew off.

Arista and Trish flew back to Spinner's End, where they were greeted by Scout, their
big golden magehound, and Comfrey, Arista's part lavender fairy cat. Arista took Scout out for his afternoon walk while Trish made dinner for them.

Her hand brushed over the blue wardstone her father had set in the porch railing, the
stone hummed contentedly at her touch. The wardstone had been enchanted by Professor Snape to protect the house and its occupants from anything short of a nuclear bomb, it had been a gift to him from Colin Flynn, who had once been Arista's guardian and teacher when she'd lived in America. Severus had asked him to obtain one since the troubles with Voldemort had resumed, and he was worried about protecting his family.

The wardstone was a standard Dark Hunter protection device, it was a blue
moonstone, which had incredible magical absorptive properties, and it could hold many types of defensive spells. Snape had layered it with as many protective spells as he could think of, and the only people who could get past an active wardstone were those it had been keyed to, namely Arista, Severus, Trish, and their friends. Anyone else would activate the defensive spells set in the stone, and no dark wizard would be able to set a toe on the Snapes' property, the stone could detect the aura of a Death Eater without any trouble. The stone was the reason he'd not worried overmuch about the two girls being alone in the house, it was an almost foolproof protection.

Arista returned from walking Scout about fifteen minutes later, and by then Trish had
sandwiches and soup on the table. The two girls ate companionably, and only when the meal was done and the dishes washed did they turn to discussing what they were going to do about fulfilling the request of the Tower ghosts.

"We're going to have to do some research in Dad's library," Arista declared,
indicating the rows of spellbooks in the bookshelf next to Snape's desk in the alcove. "He's got lots of texts on breaking curses and fighting dark wizards in there."

"Will he mind if we study them?" Trish wondered, biting her lip uneasily. She did
not feel comfortable touching her guardian's personal items without asking permission first.

Arista shook her head. "No. He said they were there for us to read if we felt like it,
though I doubt he ever thought we'd use what was in them to help ghosts in the Tower of London."

"He's gonna flip if he ever realizes what we're about to do, Arista." Trish groaned.
"He made us promise we wouldn't get in trouble."

Arista sighed. "Don't remind me. I hate breaking my promises to him, you know
that, but this time we haven't got a choice. Mel needs us. She can't do this all alone, no matter what Anne Boleyn thinks. And Drake and I are the only ones who've fought
necromancers before, so we've got to help her."

"I know, I know. I just wish we could help her without your dad finding out. And
you know he will eventually, God knows he practically read minds sometimes."

Arista rolled her eyes. "Trish, he's not God."

"So what? I can't lie to him, he'd see right through me in two seconds flat."

"Neither can I," Arista admitted. "Plus, I know better than to even try. That'll only
make him madder. Which means we're just gonna have to shut up and take whatever
punishment he gives us."

Trish sighed resignedly. "There goes the rest of our summer. He's gonna ground us
for months, I'll bet." Then she brightened slightly. "But at least he won't beat us, which is what my mum would've done if she caught me sneaking out to help my friend." Trish's mother had kicked her out of the house last summer when her daughter refused to be turned into a mini model of Glinda Greenbough, resulting in her moving into the Snapes' house.

"Got that right, Trish. He'll scold us into the next century, no doubt, but he won't
lay a finger on us, thank God. Besides, I think he almost expects us to get into trouble, it seems inevitable, given who and what we are."

"Insane teenage wizards with a knack for finding trouble wherever we go," Trish
admitted with a rueful grin. Then she smacked a hand to her forehead. "Merlin, I'm so
stupid! How are we gonna help Mel when we can't use magic outside of school? The Trace will give us away."

Arista cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement. "The Trace? What's that?"

"It's, uh, you know, the way the Ministry keeps tabs on all of us underage wizards,"
Trish replied. "So they make sure you don't do magic outside of school."

Arista's eyes narrowed. "Keep track of us how? By a spell?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"So you're saying we're bugged or something?" Arista demanded angrily. "That the
Ministry's tagged us like some kind of exotic pets? Real nice! What do they think we are, criminals?"

"It's supposed to be for our own protection," Trish began. "So we don't accidentally
reveal the fact we can do magic to Muggles."

Her friend snorted. "Sounds like Big Brother if you ask me."

"It sounds like who?"

"Big Brother. You know, like in 1984, the book by George Orwell?"

"Sorry, I never heard of that one. Is it a Muggle book?"

"Yeah, it is. It was required reading when I was eighth grade," Arista explained. "In
the book, society is regulated and controlled by a strict government called Big Brother. The government propaganda states that Big Brother's a friend, but it's a lie, and it turns out that the government is actually oppressing people by taking away their free will. This Trace thing sounds like that. Who puts it on you anyhow?"

"I don't know. I just know that once you start school, the Underage Wizardry Rule
goes into effect and the Trace is activated. It doesn't come off until you're seventeen and a legal adult."

Arista frowned sharply, gazing down at her hands as if expecting to see something
odd there. "Can it be dispelled?"

"Not that I know of."

"I don't like it. I'm not a dog, to be blindly obedient and led about on a leash. What
happens if you break that rule?"

"Uh, you could get a citation from the Ministry. If you do it too many times, they can
expel you from Hogwarts."

"What about extenuating circumstances? Like self-defense?"

"I don't know, Arista. I've never really studied much about Magical Law. I guess
they could make an exception if they wanted to."

"It's insane. What gives them the right to control people like that? That kind of thing
would never be tolerated in America. It'd be declared unconstitutional, a violation of
personal privacy."

"You don't have the Trace in America?"

"Nope. When you apprentice with a master, you sign Articles of Apprenticeship
stating your willingness to be taught and obey your teacher as necessary, and make a promise to never perform magic around Muggles unless there's no other choice, but we're not forbidden to use magic. And we certainly don't have some tracking spell implanted on us to monitor every move we make."

Trish looked thoughtful. "When you fought those dragonslayers last summer, did
you use your wand at all?"

"Sure I did. And so did Drake, we had to, we were fighting a damn dark wizard to
the death."

"And you never got a letter from the Ministry saying you'd been caught working
magic illegally?"

Arista shook her head. "No. Why?"

"Well, it could mean that the Trace doesn't work if one is far away, like across an
ocean. Or it could mean you never had one put on you since you arrived at Hogwarts
unexpectedly and Dumbledore let you attend as a fourth year. Maybe the Ministry didn't have time to cast one on you."

"I sure as hell hope so," Arista said irritably. "I'd hate to think I've been roaming
around with some kind of secret ID tag on me with some wizard watching my every move. That's just plain wrong. Not to mention creepy." Then she paused to consider something. "Wait a minute. We've both used magic before during the summer at home. How come the Ministry didn't pick up on it then?"

"That's different. In a house with at least one wizarding parent, they can't
differentiate between spells. So you can get away with it if you're careful. I think then the Ministry depends on the parents to make sure their kids aren't using magic illegally or anything."

"Oh, good. Then we can still cast spells here and no one will know."

"True, especially since nobody at the Ministry knows Severus has gone away," Trish
said, then added softly, "But that still doesn't solve our problem about the Tower. We can't use magic there, it's a Muggle facility, and they'd be on to us like a shot."

"That Ghost Master creep's been using magic there, though."

"Yeah, but he's an adult, and can't be traced."

"Hmm. I wonder if the Ministry can trace talents, like my Healing ability or Mel's
ghostwalking?" Arista wondered, biting her lip thoughtfully. Comfrey came up and curled on her lap, purring, and she stroked the soft gray cat, feeling the tension leave her as she did so. Comfrey was like that, her purr could soothe a raging three-headed dog. "When I healed the Longbottoms two summers ago, I used empathy and my Healing talent and I never got any citation from the Ministry."

"Then maybe they can only detect spells we do with wands," Tricia surmised.

"That's a relief. I mean, imagine, I'm trying to save someone life, and they go and
expel me for it. Real smart, huh? At least in America, you only get in trouble if you use dark magic."

"Too bad we don't live there," Trish said wistfully. "It's a pain, not being able to use
magic outside of school."

"Mmm-hmm. Liberty and justice for all, that's the American way." Arista sighed.
"Well, if we can't use wands, there's always potions. And we all know how to do kung fu, right? So we're not just sitting ducks."

"No, but . . .what kinds of potions can we use to protect ourselves from a dark
wizard?"

"Let's take a look in Dad's library and find out," Arista suggested, then knelt down
to examine the rows of spellbooks.

Snape, with his typical obsessive compulsive neatness, had arranged the books
alphabetically by subject and then author. Arista skimmed the sections on magical creatures, healing drafts, and sleeping drafts, coming to the section on protective elixirs and defensive magics. She leaned forward and read carefully through the section, there were many texts and grimoires here, since her father had a vaunted interest in this subject. But after fifteen minutes, she found one that might be just what they needed.

"Look at this, Trish! Elixirs for Protection and Defense, Revised Edition compiled
by Horace A. Slughorn and Severus Snape." Her mouth dropped open. "Blazes! I never knew Dad published anything."

"Me neither," Trish sounded impressed. "Who's Horace Slughorn?"

"He used to teach Potions at Hogwarts too. He was Dad's old professor," Arista
answered. "Dad said he had him for NEWT Potions in sixth and seventh year, but he's retired now. I wonder when he worked on this with Slughorn?" She slipped the volume out of the bookcase and opened it to the flyleaf. "Hmm. First published, April 1992, the year before I came to live with him. It's still pretty current then." The book was a thick leather bound volume with a picture of a cauldron and a bottle shimmering with some kind of blue potion inside it stamped on the cover just below the title. Arista rose and carried the book carefully to the desk and sat down, placing it gently on top of Snape's walnut rolltop.

He'd tidied up the desktop before he had left, so the only things on it were a small
stack of blank parchment, some spare quills in an old-fashioned glass potions bottle, and a bottle of Fine Black Squid Ink. All of the other small compartments on the desk and the drawers had been spelled with locking charms, so Arista knew better than to even try and open them. The only one she knew the password for was the tiny hidden drawer on the left hand side, which contained the key to the Snape vault at Gringotts. But Severus had left a bag of money for emergency use just before he'd left for parts unknown, saying he'd be back within a week, and not to use the gold unless they were desperate. The house was well stocked with food and other essentials, so Arista did not anticipate needing the gold at all.

Until now, that is. I sure hope these potions don't require some expensive
ingredients to concoct, and that Dad has them all in his lab, so we don't have to go to the Apothecary and buy them. I don't want anyone knowing what we're doing, and Mr. Ashby the apothecary will be sure to ask what we're making that requires exotic ingredients. Arista crossed her fingers and bent her head to scan the table of contents. She tried
to imagine what kinds of spells the Wrackspur man might use against them and then she flipped to the corresponding page with a potion to counteract the spell. She'd located the elixir for a Fireproof potion, one that would make the drinker immune to any kind of fire, even dragonfire, for three hours or so.

She snagged a piece of parchment and jotted down the recipe, noting with a wry grin
that Severus had appended the ingredients at the bottom of the page in his precise
handwriting with the following instructions—may use chimera or manticore blood as a substitute for dragon's blood if brewing potion in America, as per the AMA Regulations. Otherwise, the recipe was pretty straightforward and didn't seem that difficult to brew.

She discovered a potion that would give one the speed of a serpent for a time and
wrote that one down too. It was called Snakeswift and its main ingredient was the skin of an African black mamba, the quickest snake on the planet. That too might be really useful, especially if he starts casting something nasty at us, Arista mused. Can't hit what you can't see.
She found an improved version of an Excelsior Draft, which was like the charm of
the same name, and would protect the wizard from severe physical damage.

Then she came across a section titled Spirits, Ghosts, and Ghouls—Dealing with the
Undead and the Cursed. She excitedly read the following paragraph aloud to Trish.

"Though most people tend to regard ghosts as harmless, merely an imprint of a
person who has died and refused to move on, there remain more than a few instances where specters have driven people mad or scared them to death. Those spirits are not merely imprints, but are in a class I like to name revenants—angry, disturbed, and hostile souls who hunger for things they lost in life or never had to begin with. A revenant is usually a soul cursed to remain trapped in a half-life, bound to a specific place or location, doomed to either relive or protect something by the wizard that bound it, until they have learned the error of their ways or the treasure they were protecting no longer exists. Most revenants bear a deep abiding hatred for the living, and take great pleasure in attacking unsuspecting
travelers whenever they can. They usually are capable of emitting a freezing aura, one that can literally chill the blood in one's veins, or can scream so piercingly that the hearer goes deaf, like a banshee, or cast a cloak of fear that can stop an unprotected person's heart. Some revenants can also drain energy from the living by touching them and it is in this way that they gain strength, sustaining their unnatural lives. Such spirits are notoriously difficult to banish or destroy, and rare is the wizard who can compel one to do his bidding. The one exception to this rule is a wizard who is a ghostwalker, a rare talent that enables the wizard (or witch) to command and summon ghosts, as well as take on phantom form at will. No revenant, not even the most strong-willed or evil, can resist the summons of a ghostwalker, nor fail to obey one's commands, for the power of the ghostwalker is absolute, as befits one who can bridge both the physical and spiritual realms."

Trish whistled. "Boy, am I sure glad Mel's on our side. Does it say anything else
on how you can destroy or fight one of those revenant things?"

"Let's see." Arista quickly read the rest of the page. "Ah ha! Here we go. A
revenant can be turned aside or banished by a wizard if he has the following items, spells, or potions on hand: A cross or other holy relic blessed by a priest or other religious personage. But the holy item usually only serves to bring the revenant to a halt, and might not destroy it outright. Holy water is best in this case, because of their accursed nature, a revenant can't bear the touch of blessed water, and can be severely burned or harmed by it. One can coat a weapon or an object with holy water prior to facing a revenant to ensure maximum damage when confronting one.

"Silver items, such as daggers, sword, or staffs capped with silver will also hurt a
revenant, since silver is a pure metal and has properties which wards off evil. The best offensive weapon against a revenant is one that combines both silver and holy water.

"Revenants also dislike bright light, so a Lumos spell can be handy, or an
Illuminating Paste, which can be spread on the person's hands or arms, to make them glow with a bright unyielding light for twenty minutes or so.

"Other potions can be effective in reducing the auras a revenant emits, such as a
Fearless Potion, which will render the drinker immune to a revenant's fearcasting. A
Euphoria Potion is also good for combating the despair and hopelessness a revenant can throw at an opponent, for those who are joyful cannot feel despair. To fight off the chill of the grave, I would suggest a Chill Banishing Draft or a double-strength Pepper Up Potion.

"Another way to defeat a vengeful spirit is to cast a spell called Spirit Wrack, which
is a high level spell that makes the spirit feel terrible emotional pain, and when cast
properly, can make a revenant back off or flee. Though it can be fought, if the spirit is old and has experience in enduring emotional mindstorms, and the victim of failed Spirit Wrack will be very angry and not likely to be merciful to the wizard who cast it afterwards.

"Prayer is also a way to keep a revenant at bay and in a few cases, if the wizard's
faith is strong enough, banish the revenant for a time. But such strong faith is rare, and simply speaking the words of a prayer are not enough—the wizard must truly believe the prayer and have faith in whatever god he prays to irrevocably, else the prayer will fail. Faith is only as strong as the person's belief, though belief equals power, in magic as in everything else. A prayer circle, drawn with silver sand and salt, is a good way to keep a revenant from harming people, or bind it safely.

"So if you plan on going ghost hunting, or are seeking a treasure guarded by a
revenant, bring along a priest at the very least, arm yourself with holy water and a few
potions mentioned here, or find a ghostwalker if you can, though that last might prove
difficult, since not many are born with the talent. Of course, there are no guarantees that using any of these methods will keep you alive, since the only foolproof method to defeating a revenant is to be or be accompanied by a ghostwalker. Essay written by Severus Snape, Potions Master," Arista finished.

"How did your dad find out all those ways to fight revenants?" Trish pondered. "The
way he writes, he makes it sound as though he's had experience fighting them, not just studying about them."

"You're right. He's probably done lots of things we'd never think of him doing.
Sometimes I think he's led a whole other secret life besides just teaching Potions at
Hogwarts. Colin once mentioned to me that Dad knows as much about Defense and battle magic as a Hunter combat master, and you don't get that kind of experience by reading books, that much I can tell you. You get it by dueling necromancers and stuff."

"Then why on earth isn't he teaching Defense?"

"Who knows? That's between him and Dumbledore. Last time I asked about it, he
nearly bit my head off, told me to quit sticking my nose in things that were none of my
concern before I got into serious trouble. I never dared to bring up the subject again. But I've always wondered." The little Healer shrugged. "Maybe one day Dumbledore will give him the position, or maybe he'll tell us where and how he learned all of this."

"D'you think he doesn't talk about it 'cause he doesn't trust us?"

Arista shook her head. "No. I've never got that feeling from him at all. It's
probably more along the lines that he wants to protect us, you know how overprotective he is when it comes to his family. Worse than a mother grizzly with one surviving cub that's lost the others to hunters." She rolled her eyes.

"At least that's better than not giving a damn about your own kid," Trish said softly,
her expression darkening. Arista came over and patted her shoulder comfortingly, knowing the other girl was speaking about her parents, who had cared so little for their daughter that they'd allowed her to leave home and go live with a stranger rather than face up to the fact that they were making her miserable and try and resolve the situation. "I always feel safe around him," Trish continued. "Except when he's in a temper and yelling at me. Then I want to go crawl under a table."

"But he hardly ever yells at you, Trish," Arista pointed out with a small smile.
"You're the good daughter. I'm the one with the attitude, remember?" That was a quote she heard often from Severus during an argument, for she'd inherited the Potions Master's sarcastic tongue and his quicksilver temper.

"I won't be the good daughter after he finds out about this," Trish predicted
gloomily. "Both of us are going to be on the Worst Daughter of the Year list. He's probably gonna wish he never agreed to make me his foster daughter."

"I doubt it. He might be blazing mad at us for a week or so, but then he'll forgive
us, same as always. He only carries vendettas against people he really loathes, like
Voldemort. Or James Potter and Sirius Black."

"Or Harry."

"Well, I don't know about that. Somehow, I don't think he hates Harry as much as
he seems to." Arista disagreed.

"Why's he always picking on him, then?"

"I think, and this is only a theory, mind, but I think it's his way of testing Harry,
pushing him. And part of it is because Harry can be rude and disrespectful, all the qualities he hated in James Potter, and he won't tolerate that from anyone, but especially not from James' son. He's using Hunter teaching methods, Trish. A Hunter is always hardest on those students he thinks have the most potential. Colin used to tell me the harder the practice, the better the student." Arista winced. "And he used to tell me that right after he'd stomped my butt into the ground. Sometimes I really hated him, but those methods get results. Damn good results. I wouldn't be half as good as I am at defense if it weren't for Colin's little practice sessions."

Trish shuddered. "I'm glad I was never a Hunter's apprentice. I'd have fallen to
pieces after a week, I think."

"No you wouldn't have." Arista disagreed. "You're a lot tougher than you think,
Tricia Greenbough. You survived your mother, right?"

"Barely."

"But you did it. And you survived Dad's temper without bursting into tears last term
when you nearly failed his final too."

"Only 'cause I was too afraid if I started crying I wouldn't be able to stop and he'd
hate me for being a sniveling crybaby. And I deserved to be yelled at too, I was letting my relationship with Rowan interfere too much with my schoolwork." Rowan Glendower was a sixth year Ravenclaw and the substitute Seeker for the House team. He was also drop dead gorgeous and he'd made Trish the envy of half the girls at school by going out with her.

"That why you haven't called him at all this summer?"

Trish sighed. "Partly. He's graduating this coming year, you know, moving on to
other things and I, well, I don't see why he'd want to be with me when he can get another girl who's older and prettier and doesn't have such a screwed up life."

"Because you're worth ten of any of those other women Tricia, and if he can't see
that then he's an utter idiot and not worth another minute of your time. Did he say he wasn't going to go out with you anymore?"

"No . . .but I kind of got the feeling that he might be . . .well, looking for an excuse
to dump me. I kept turning him down when he asked me to go out the end of last term, telling him I really had to study, and he got annoyed about it, said maybe he'd rather not spend time with a bookworm, that there was more to life than getting top marks. I, uh, got mad at him then, told him he wasn't worth failing Potions for. And he said I was stupid for caring about what Snape thought, what was he but a grouchy miserable git who carried around a torch for his dead wife 'cause he couldn't get a normal woman."

"He didn't! Why that lousy, arrogant, stuck-up, little twit!" Arista flared. "I hope you
told him where to shove himself, Trish!"

"I did. We had a blazing row, I told him that Severus had adopted me, and his
opinion meant more to me than any shallow silly boy's, and that was why we didn't speak to each other for over two weeks. Then, the last week of school, Rowan came and begged my pardon, said he was a horse's arse for behaving the way he did and would I please forgive him? I said I would, and he told me he'd write to me over the summer, and then he left. So far I haven't gotten a letter yet, and I'm beginning to think it's over."

"Well, if it is, I'm sorry, but there're plenty more guys, better ones, that you could
date, Trish."

Trish laughed. "That's funny coming from you, Arista. Since the only guy you ever
have eyes for is Drake Lockwood." Arista blushed. "The way you look at him, you'd think he was the last boy on earth."

"For me, he is," she admitted softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh . . .it's complicated."

Trish eyed her foster sister in amusement. "How so? You either like him or you
don't."

"I like him . . .a lot. But it's more than that." She frowned, trying to come up with
words to explain what had occurred between her and Drake last summer. "You know how we went on that quest last summer to save the bronze dragons?" Trish nodded. "You know how Drake got hurt by that Hellride spell Crouch cast on his broom?"

"Yeah, he said he almost died, but you saved him. What of it? You heal everyone
who needs it."

"I know, but that time, it was different. You know what resonance is?"

"A little. It's when you absorb the feelings or memories of someone else, right?"

Arista nodded. "Sort of. For an empath, resonance means a bit more. When I healed
Drake, I thought I was careful not to link too deeply with him, but somehow my healing
created a—a bond between us. Now I can almost always sense him, even shielded. He's always there in the back of my head. That's never happened before, Trish. Not when I healed the Longbottoms, or Colin or Jenna, or even Fireflash, whom I brought back from the brink of death. Only with Drake."

"Does he know?"

"No! How can I tell him? I think it's a soulbond, Trish, and an empath only
soulbonds once in her life, when she's found the person she's destined to love for all of time. Like my mom with my dad. They shared a soulbond, I'm almost certain of it. That's why losing my mom nearly destroyed Dad, and it's also why he hasn't so much as looked at another woman since. It's something only an empath can create and once it's done, that's it. A soulbond's forever, even beyond death."

"Holy God! And that's what you think you share with Drake?"

"Yes. I'm not a hundred percent certain, but I'm almost positive. And I don't know
how to tell him. I don't want him thinking I enspelled him or anything, because it wasn't like that. I never intended for this to happen, but it did, and I couldn't undo it if I wanted to. And I don't. You know I've always liked him as more than a friend, and this just . . .enhances the way I feel about him. By about a million times."

"Arista, you have to tell him!" Trish urged. "I think he likes you too, only he's too
shy to admit it. I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one can see . . ."

"How does he look at me?"

"Like you were an ice cream cone and he was starving," Trish said impishly.

"Tricia Greenbough!"

"What? It's the truth, I swear. And sometimes he looks at you as if you were the only
girl in school."

"Really?"

"I'd swear on Helga Hufflepuff's cup, if we had it here," Trish said solemnly. "Has
he ever kissed you?"

"Not yet," Arista said regretfully. "But if he ever did . . .there'd be no way I could
hide the soulbond then. Affection deepens the bond, you see, and I wouldn't be able to keep from sharing my feelings with him. Or from sensing his own."

"And that scares you?"

"Yeah. I don't want him to ever think I'd use my powers to influence him. But it's
hard to be completely private with a soulbond. Emotions, yours and his, always leak
through, and Drake's always been the kind of guy who is quiet and self-contained. What if he doesn't want to bare his soul to me?"

"I think it's a bit late for that now, if what you say happened."

"You're right. I wish my mom were here. She'd know how to tell if it was truly a
soulbond or not, and how I could tell him about it without seeming like a manipulative
harpy."

"Arista! Drake would never think that about you." Trish objected.

"No? I bonded to him without his consent, Trish."

"Not intentionally. I'm sure once you explain it to him, he'll understand. So don't
go borrowing trouble, Arista Snape, unless you want to get it back with interest, okay?"

"Okay." She gave Trish a tentative smile.

Trish looked thoughtful for a moment. "Uh, I just had a crazy idea."

"What?"

"Maybe you could talk to Severus."

Arista nearly fell off the couch. "Are you freaking nuts? I could never . . .a
soulbond's too private, even if he would admit he had one with my mom . . . I mean, it's just not something you bring up in a casual conversation—Gee, Dad, did you ever share a soulbond with Mom and if you did, y'mind telling me what feels like? 'Cause I think I've got one with Drake Lockwood. No way!"

"But Severus likes Drake."

"Sure he does, as our friend. But my boyfriend? A real boyfriend, not just a casual
acquaintance? I think he'd be more likely to threaten Drake with dismemberment than welcome him as a son-in-law, you know how overprotective he is."

"I think if he knew how much you loved Drake and that Drake felt the same about
you, he'd be okay with it. He just doesn't want you to get hurt, is all."

Arista chuckled darkly. "A soulbond hurts like hell sometimes. It ain't all sweetness
and light."

"Who better to know that than him, Arista? If he shared one with Amelia, he'd
understand. I think you should talk to him."

"When, before or after he's grounded me for life? That's assuming I can even get
two words in edgewise before he starts yelling."

"You will, you've always managed it before," Trish said.

"We'll see," Arista said, sounding very much like her father. Then she yawned and
rubbed her eyes. "Well, I'm ready for bed. We can study those potions recipes and tell Mel, Kit, and Drake about them tomorrow."

"Right," Trish smothered a yawn also. "Night, Arista. Hope you have pleasant
dreams . . .about darling Drake."

"Shut up, Trish!" her foster sister yelled, throwing a pillow at her.

Trish giggled unrepentantly, then threw one back at her. In two seconds flat they had
degenerated into a full-scale pillow fight.

Fifteen minutes later both girls were breathless from laughing and feathers were
drifting down through the air to land in small white heaps on the couch and the rug.

They stared at each other in amused dismay. "Good thing Dad's not here," Arista
said. "We'd really catch it."

"But it was fun." Trish grinned, then drew out her wand and spoke a neaten-up
charm, while Arista gestured at the pillows and mended them in a twinkling.

Within minutes the den was its former neat self and the two raced up the stairs to
their bedroom, tired yet relieved of tension, and assured a good night's sleep because of it.