Hogwarts had been incredible. No matter how hard she wanted to stay calm and impassive, she simply couldn't, when she looked around the corridors and many halls she passed on her way to one of the classrooms. Clarisse felt so taken by the castle, that she almost wished she didn't have to follow Finley's Patronus, which happened to be a stag.

The school year was obviously coming to an end, as she could see students roaming the corridors with piles of books in their hands and anxiety painted all over their faces. She remembered times when her own exams used to suck the life out of her, especially when it came to subjects she truly disliked. Seeing so many young people going through that same stress made her feel extremely old and sentimental, which was something she didn't like even one bit.

Clarisse wondered once again why she got summoned to the castle. Obviously, Finley hadn't been a student in here and, as far as she knew, he hadn't been a teacher. What was it then? Why was she here?

She stopped abruptly, when the Patronus she had been following disappeared, leaving her in the middle of the corridor with absolutely no clue as to her whereabouts.

"Are you kidding me?" she muttered quietly and looked up with exasperation.

Clearly, Finley decided that leaving her all alone would be a hilarious joke, only proving his absolute lack of sense of humour. She looked around, searching for a student, who could tell her where she would find that bloody Englishman, but the corridor had been empty.

Should she cast another Patronus? Or maybe she should walk around, making an idiot out of herself? Clarisse ground her teeth and decided that she didn't want to give Finley satisfaction, so she moved forward.

It took her a couple of minutes to find a student –a small girl with bushy hair and big, blue eyes.

"Hello," she greeted her trying to sound as pleasant as possible, but the girl clearly didn't appreciate her efforts. "Do you know where I can find Auror Finley?"

The girl looked at her with surprise and then blushed slightly, making Clarisse frown.

"Professor Finley is probably in his classroom, Miss," she said in a small voice and bit her lip anxiously. "Why are you looking for him?"

Clarisse raised her brows and scratched her head with annoyance. Professor Finley? Did the Aurors in Great Britain earn so little that they had to take on different jobs? Why would anyone who, as much as it pained her to admit, had a successful career as an Auror decide to teach teenagers?

"Miss?" the girl spoke up again, gaining Clarisse's attention.

"Sorry. He asked me to come here. Could you tell me where his classroom is?"

"Oh. I can take you there! Hogwarts is really complicated and you're clearly not from here."

"Thank you," Clarisse inclined her head and smiled tightly, as her mind still tried to figure out the reasons behind Finley's professorship.

The girl turned around and gestured her to follow her, which Clarisse did without hesitation.

"So... Professor Finley, huh?" she asked after a moment of silence and the little student nodded.

"Our previous professor had an accident and we needed someone who could step in for him. Professor Finley agreed."

"What subject does he teach?"

"The Defence Against the Dark Arts, of course," the girl replied with a smile and Clarisse nodded.

Well, that was kind of predictable. After all, she could hardly think of someone better suited for that position than an Auror. Still, he didn't strike her as a teacher material.

"Is he any good?" Clarisse asked and watched with a smirk as the girl blushed again.

Ah, so that was the reason for her behaviour. Finley was young, quite attractive and he had that dominative aura about him, that probably impressed teenage girls more than anything.

"He's great, Miss. His knowledge is really impressive and he's doing a really good job at passing it onto us," the girl said, while her blush kept growing.

"He's also hot, isn't he?" Clarisse asked with irony and fought the urge to chuckle, seeing as the girl tripped over her own legs.

"Um... He's a Professor."

Clarisse laughed and shook her head. Oh, yeah. She remembered that time in her life when lusting over Professors seemed completely wrong, immoral even. Sure, the relationship between a student and a teacher wouldn't be a great idea, but it always seemed funny that people were so scared of being called perverts that they didn't want to admit to liking someone's appearance.

"Sure thing," she said, despite her thoughts and shrugged.

Last thing she wanted was to encourage a teenage girl to explore her crush towards Finley, no matter how bad she wanted to make his life bothersome.

A few minutes and several turns later, the girl stopped in front of a seemingly normal pair of doors. She smiled sheepishly and hugged her books closer.

"We're here, Miss. Can I help you with anything else?"

Clarisse smiled and shook her head.

"No. But the next time you're going to meet a complete stranger, make sure to gather some information about them, instead of just offering your help. I could have been a murderer for all you know"

The girl blushed again and nodded her head eagerly, albeit with embarrassment. Next thing, she turned around and left Clarisse alone, in front of the door to Finley's classroom.

Without hesitation, she pulled the handle and entered the room as quietly as possible. The door creaked slightly, but the sound got muffled by Finley's voice, so no one noticed her, apart from the Auror himself.

"Who can tell me something about the Dementors?" he asked, switching his gaze back to the students, completely ignoring Clarisse, who leaned against the doorway.

A couple of students raised their hands, while Finley skimmed the crowd. Finally his eyes stopped at the boy sitting in the middle of the room, who seemed completely uninterested in the lesson.

"Mr Grayson? Care to enlighten your peers?'' he asked with a slight smirk on his handsome face.

"No, professor," the boy answered in an impassive voice and Clarisse couldn't help but cheer for that cheeky teenager, who apparently didn't care for Finley as well.

"Are you telling me you don't know such a basic thing?"

"No, I'm telling you I don't want to enlighten my peers."

This time, she couldn't stop herself from snorting in amusement, making everyone turn around with surprised looks painted on their faces. Finley gave her an angry stare, but she couldn't care less. Especially not, when students started to whisper to each other, completely disrupting Finley's lesson.

"Quiet," the Auror ordered in a stern tone and, to Clarisse's surprise, everyone listened to him. "Can you please wait outside?" he then spoke to her, trying not to sound extremely unpleasant as it would certainly pique student's interest more than it should.

"I don't think so," she replied and narrowed her eyes. "I've always liked this subject."

With that, she pushed herself away from the doorway and sat at the end of the classroom, where she found an empty chair.

"Hope you don't mind," she added and smiled sweetly, making herself comfortable.

"Not at all," a stiff reply reached her ears, as Finley's eyes left her silhouette. "Since Mr Grayson refuses to answer my question, what, by the way, just cost Slytherin 5 points, can anyone else share their knowledge?"

Once again, a couple of students raised their hands and this time, Finley picked one of them –a girl with long, blonde hair.

"Miss Brenley?"

"A Dementor is a Dark creature, considered to be one of the foulest to inhabit the world. Dementors feed on human happiness and generate feelings of depression and despair in any person in close proximity to them. They can also consume a person's soul, leaving their victims in a permanent vegetative state. It's called a Dementor's kiss and even though it doesn't kill, many believe that it is even worse than death itself," the girl explained and Clarisse smirked.

Spot on definition, she had to admit that. Still, when it came to the Dark creatures, no definition could have done them justice. The student spoke of the Dementors in a stern tone, lacking any emotion. For her, it was just some knowledge necessary for passing the exams, while Clarisse felt shivers running down her spine, reminiscing those few times when she had been forced to face one of those creatures.

"Do you know what creates them?" she asked in a quiet voice, gaining the attention of every student.

Finley looked quite angered by her interruption, but then his expression changed and he gave a slight nod, allowing Clarisse to speak.

"No, Miss," the student replied with curiosity filling her voice.

Everyone turned around to have a better vision of Clarisse, as she looked up towards the stone ceiling.

"Their origins are tied to Azkaban, apparently. You see, that place hadn't always been a prison. It was a fortress inhibited by a wizard named Ekrizdis. Pretty vile man, if you're asking me. He spent his days luring Muggle sailors into the fortress and then he tortured them brutally," she said and looked towards the students, who seemed genuinely disturbed by her tale. "Ekrizdis kept doing that for years until he finally died and the Concealment spell he placed on the fortress stopped working, allowing the British Ministry of Magic to locate it. They sent some people over there and those people came back terrified enough to refuse to talk about anything they had found on the island. The only piece of information they provided, was that the place had been infested with Dementors."

She met Finley's gaze, who, for the first time since they've met, wasn't looking at her with hostility. Actually, his face bore a curious expression, very similar to the ones on students' faces.

"There are many theories regarding their genesis. Some say that Ekrizdis created them as a form of torture for the sailors, as they fed on every single happy memory, inducing despair and insanity in their victims. Some say that no one created them in a conventional way, that they were born out of the Darkest magic, with pain and suffering serving as a catalyst. Either way, they are not just some dark creatures. Dementors are the epitome of everything vile in this world," she finished with a grim smile, as silence enveloped everyone in the room.

Finley was the one to break the sudden tension in the room as he stood up and cleared his throat, forcing students' attention to switch once again.

"Dementors are not to be taken lightly," he said quietly, looking at his class. "Like our guest said, it is extremely hard to find a creature that would be so dangerous. They are much, much more than just a definition and as your teacher, I hope you're never going to see how true that is."

Clarisse met his gaze and smiled genuinely. Apparently, he wasn't as stupid as she previously thought. At least not when it came to the Dark Arts.

"Alright. As a revision assignment, I want you to write an essay on other Dark creatures you know, at least five of them', professor ordered, while students groaned simultaneously. "Class dismissed."

A couple of minutes later, the classroom was nearly empty, leaving Clarisse and Finley alone. The woman stood up from her chair and walked towards the British Auror, who looked at her with a frown.

"Why am I here?" she asked without unnecessary lingering. "You wanted to simply get me mad or did you have a better reason?"

"That's not very nice to barge into someone's classroom and disrupt the entire lesson," Finley ignored her question with a smirk on his face, instantly bringing out her anger which managed to lessen over time.

"You know what's also not very nice?" she mimicked his peculiar accent and clenched her fists. "Dragging me here without a single word of explanation and then leaving me in the middle of a gigantic castle that I have never been to before."

Finley crossed his arms over his chest and quirked one eyebrow at her.

"You're here, aren't you? Clearly, it wasn't that bad."

"How patient do you think I am?" Clarisse asked through her teeth and took another step forward. "I'm not here on vacation, you know? Your country is hardly the place I'd choose for that."

"It's not my country," he replied at once and smirked. "I'm Irish. I thought you'd be able to tell by my accent."

She rolled her eyes at his stupidity and sighed. She was French, for Merlin's sake. Telling apart all of the accents might have been a very entertaining hobby, but it sure as hell wasn't a part of her training.

"Whatever," she snorted dismissively, completely ignoring his angry stare. "Is that why I'm here? You wanted to share your heritage with me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Or at least don't be ridiculous in my presence. I have little to no tolerance for that," he informed her and opened a drawer in his desk, clearly in search for something.

"Then how do you manage to put up with yourself?" she muttered, earning herself another angry stare.

Their conversation seemed to be put on hold, while Finley rummaged through different stuff in his drawer and Clarisse tapped the floor with her foot in annoyance. She really wanted to ask what he was doing, but decided against it, not wanting to give him satisfaction.

Instead, she started to look around the classroom with curiosity. It was nothing like the ones she remembered from Beauxbatons, but Clarisse considered it a good thing. Just as everything in this castle, Finley's classroom possessed an atmosphere consisting purely of magic. The students, teachers and any other inhabitants of this incredible place probably failed to see it, as they were used to it on daily basis, but Clarisse started to really understand Corrick's words about that incredible connection to magic one could feel inside those stone walls.

"Ah, there it is," Finley's voice forced her to switch her attention back to him, as he raised his hand with a book in it.

Clarisse frowned and moved towards him, trying to decipher its title, but before she was able to do that, Finley opened it and started to flick the pages at a rapid pace.

"Um... What exactly are you looking for?" she finally snapped, not being able to take the suspension anymore and the Irishman smirked with satisfaction, though his gaze never left the pages.

"You'll know when I find it.'

She didn't like his attitude very much. That smirk playing on his face made her feel incredibly anxious and weirdly murderous, although she couldn't say why. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it wasn't the most respectful expression on Earth or maybe it was something entirely different. She guessed that being summoned to a great castle just so he could show her a book didn't help the situation at all.

"Great. It's not like you had time for that earlier, huh?" she asked in a mocking tone, causing his smirk to widen considerably.

"I'm a busy man, Clarisse," he said, using her first name.

The woman blinked, realising that she had no idea what Finley's first name was. It was so typical of her to work with someone without even asking such a basic thing. Of course, she had every information regarding his career, his skills and everything else, but a name? Why would she need it?

"Since when are we on first name basis, Auror Finley?"

"We're working together, yeah? No need for that fake politeness."

"I don't recall being polite to you, like ever'," she snorted and he shrugged.

"I wouldn't brag about it, Clarisse."

"Seriously, what's with the name?" she sighed and crossed her arms on the chest. "I don't even know yours."

He looked up from the book with a genuinely surprised expression on his face and then he scowled, getting back to his lecture.

"So you're not only mean, but also arrogant, huh? Good to know."

"Said the man who didn't even have the decency to meet me at the gate, once he requested my presence," she mocked him once again and then rolled her eyes at his impassive behaviour.

Silence fell between them and Clarisse couldn't help but get even more anxious. Did he even know what he was looking for? Or maybe he simply wanted to piss her off? It surely seemed to work like a charm.

"My name's Aedan," he finally muttered. "And if we are to work together, I suggest you remember it. I'm not the only Auror Finley in Great Britain."

Ah, so that was the reason for his hurt expression once she told him she didn't even know his name. It made sense, at least in her mind. She was truly glad there was no one in her family that could have endangered her career or make her seem like that spoilt brat, who got everything just because of her parents' name. Aedan probably had to work twice as hard as anyone else, if he wanted to step outside his father's shadow. Or his mother's. She didn't really know.

"Fine. At least you have a pretty name," she rolled her eyes and sighed, seeing his smirk return to his face.

"Thank you, Clarisse," he said and then gestured for her to join him at his desk.

She did that without hesitation and looked at the book in his hands, which he lowered generously, so that she could see everything without problems. A frown appeared on her face when she realised that the book had been much older than it seemed, as the text covering its pages looked quite ancient.

"What is it?" she muttered and met Aeden's gaze and he smiled smugly.

"A book."

She smacked him in the shoulder, not wanting to stand his teasing any longer. He laughed softly and shook his head with amusement.

"Has anyone told you that you have anger management issues?"

"Everyone is too scared of me," she replied sweetly and pointed her finger to the item resting in his hand. "What. Is. It?"

"That's the thing. I'm not entirely sure. My father brought it home from one of his missions, many, many years ago. He had no idea what is said, but it is quite ancient. I'd say that it is written in ancient Greek, but I'm not sure," he explained and frowned.

"Why didn't you give it to someone who could tell you more about it?" Clarisse asked and traced her finger over the ink covering the page.

"Because I had no need for it. I'm keen on history, but there had been much more important things in my life than translating an old book."

That seemed like a valid explanation. Clarisse would be a big, fat liar if she had claimed that putting aside her hobbies never happened when her job called for her. Still, none of this explained his sudden interest in this book right now. And what did she have to do with it?

"It's a fascinating story and I appreciate that bonding time..." she started with irony. "... but I'd really like to know, why am I here?"

Finley sighed and turned a couple of pages and Clarisse opened her mouth in surprise, when she realised that one of the pictures covering the paper had been all too familiar.

"Merde..." she swore in French, not being able to believe her own eyes.

"I know that word," Aeden chuckled in response, but she didn't give a damn at that moment.

Her stare was glued to the picture of a woman, lying on the ground in what seemed like a pool of her own blood. Clarisse had no troubles deciphering the source of the substance, as the woman's throat had been slit on both sides of her neck, along her carotid arteries. The wounds had been narrow and incredibly neat, taking Clarisse back to that beautiful morning, when she had been summoned to the Notre-Dame Cathedral.

She stopped staring at the lifeless form of the woman and lowered her gaze to the drawing of an encrusted knife. Could that be the exact magical artefact that was used to commit the crimes, according to the French and British Forensic Departments?

"How the fuck is that even possible?" she asked and bit her lip.

"I don't know. I don't even know what that means, Clarisse. I mean, what are the chances that the guy we're looking for had been the previous owner of this book, huh?"

"I'd say they are freaking gigantic, Aeden," she snorted and shook her head in disbelief. "I doubt that there are multiple copies of it lying around."

"Aren't you smart," he mumbled and sighed, scratching his head. "We don't even know what the books says. Maybe it's a common knowledge, or at least it was quite some time ago."

"The phrase quite some time ago doesn't seem to do it justice," the woman said and clicked her tongue. "Well, it doesn't matter. Common knowledge or not, this is the first real clue we have, so we need to jump on it as soon as possible. Do you know someone who can translate this damned thing?"

Aeden shook his head and scowled, while Clarisse sighed once again.

"In that case, you need to lend it to me, so I can take it back to France."

"Do you know someone able to translate it?"

She truly wished she didn't. After all, it would mean that she had a normal, healthy family without a mother who claimed to be a Seer or something as ridiculous. Her mother's interest were peculiar to say the least, but, fortunately, they involved travelling the world in search of various, ancient documents. Raising her daughter in Latin didn't fall under the 'Mother of the year' category, but it certainly proved her language skills.

"Trust me, I do," she said and smiled so crookedly that Aedan raised his eyebrows with curiosity. "I'll get it done, but I think you should talk to your father about his mission. Anything could be of help."

Finley looked at her with a grumpy expression, as his face became even paler.

"You clearly hadn't tried talking to my father."

"Would be weird if I had, wouldn't it?" she grinned in response and shrugged. "Your family, your problem"

Clarisse took the book out of his hands and closed it lightly. She took out her wand and casted a protective spell over it and then hid it inside of her robes' pocket. Before Finley could react, she swirled around and started to walk towards the door. A couple of steps later, a thought made her stop and face the man once again.

"Why exactly did you summon me here? Why me and not Fabre?" she asked with a genuine interest. "I was under the impression you really, really hated me."

"It's nothing personal, Clarisse. I just don't think women are the right for this job. It can be hell and you are..." he stopped and clicked his tongue, searching for an accurate word. "...quite delicate."

And there she was, thinking that Finley was actually decent. She snatched her wand out of its sheathe and casted a Stunning spell in an instant, watching him fall to the floor with a loud bang.

"Call me delicate again and I will rip your eyeballs off and stick them up your nose, you sexist jerk," she informed him in a sweet tone and sheathed her wand once again.

She really did have anger management issues, but at that moment... She was too satisfied to care.