A/N: I don't have a good excuse as to why this is so late, besides the fact that I was across the country without laptop access for the past few weeks. Anyways, this one's a bit longer than usual, and the next one should be up very soon.

Also, I wrote this chapter almost two months ago, and in case you're wondering how far ahead I am in the story, I'm already halfway through fourth year. I never stopped writing, and if I ever do, you'll know because I'll upload the last chapter I wrote and let you know.

That being said, school is about to start so updates might be even more sporadic than usual.

Thanks for sticking around.

Later, Tracey, Hermione, and Hyacinth were in their usual compartment when Ginny Weasley came knocking, for the second time.

"Hyacinth," she said quietly, "Can I speak to you?"

Tracey and Hermione made eye contact. "We're gonna go to the bathroom," said Hermione, Tracey nodding and following her out.

Ginny sat across from her. "I wanted to apologize. I've already spoken with everyone that's been petrified, but I know what it did to you, with Granger gone. I don't -I don't want you to think that I -"

"Ginny," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "You don't need to apologize."

"But -but you were so upset, and so furious, and -"

"Ginevra."

Ginny stopped short.

"Dumbledore explained everything to me. It's alright." It wasn't alright at all, but it wasn't really Ginny's fault, so Hyacinth would set aside her feelings about whomever had set an ungodly terror upon Hogwarts until she learned whom it was.

Ginny suddenly shot across and hugged her. Hyacinth was taken aback, before slowly and awkwardly patting her on the back, hoping the girl wouldn't begin to cry. It was no secret she'd been unstable after the ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets.

Thankfully, she didn't cry, just ran off to sit with Astoria and some other first-years.

Tracey and Hermione returned after a few minutes, eyeing her tentatively as they entered.

"What was all that about?" asked Hermione.

"Probably asking Hyacinth out," theorized Tracey with a giggle at the green-eyed girl's expense.

"Oh, ha ha, like I'd ever go that route. Can you imagine how awkward meeting the family would be. 'Hi, it's me, Hyacinth Potter, you've probably heard terrible things about me from your youngest son, but the other kids seem to like me well enough!'"

"That's not the worst it could be," countered Hermione,

"Oh?" said Hyacinth deviously, "And what is the worst it could be? Don't tell me you're having a tragic love story behind my back, Granger, you haven't even been conscious most of the year."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I am not having any romance thank you very much, but if I were I'm sure you can imagine how that family meeting would go."

"Depends who you date," said Tracey thoughtfully, "Depends what their family's like, you've just got to be careful."

"Yeah," agreed Hermione with a sigh, "I've got to be careful."

. . .

Hyacinth stayed at Hermione's house for the first time that summer.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger (alternatively known as Dr. and Dr. Granger) were lovely people, who seemed to know absolutely nothing about the notion of blood purity.

"Hermione tells us Hogwarts is absolutely lovely," began Mrs. Granger at dinner. Hyacinth cut her eyes to Hermione before responding.

"It is. I really love it."

"Yes, you know, we were quite worried about boarding school, because Hermione's never had the easiest time making friends," confided Mr. Granger, to which Hermione merely looked down into her plate.

"But," continued Mrs. Granger, "She's told us everyone at Hogwarts is just wonderful."

Hyacinth didn't even need to think about it. If Hermione was hiding the prejudice she faced for having Muggle parents from her Muggle parents, she had no reason to expose it.

"They are. It's exceptional really, the kindness we've both been shown from everyone, students, teachers, even the Headmaster."

Hermione squeezed her hand under the table, and her parents continued to gush about how they loved McGonagall and Dumbledore and thought they were some of the nicest people they'd ever met.

. . .

"If I told them," confessed Hermione later when they were safely tucked away in her room, "They might see it as a reason to keep me home and in Muggle school. Especially if they knew about You-Know-Who and the war."

Hyacinth hadn't thought of that. It hadn't occurred to her that Aunt Petunia might see the war as a reason to keep her away from the magical world.

. . .

"Actually, they don't really have much of a choice," explained Theo a few weeks later at Malfoy Manor. They were poolside again. "As far as the Ministry of Magic is concerned, Muggles aren't really fit guardians for magical children. They let them keep custody during school breaks, of course, but it's more out of courtesy than anything. Technically speaking, you and Granger are both wards of the school, meaning your Head of House and Dumbledore are considered your guardians."

"I feel like that's something someone should have mentioned by now," said Hyacinth.

Theo shrugged. "It doesn't really come up unless there's a need for it. If you got into legal trouble, for example, they wouldn't speak with your aunt, they'd speak with Dumbledore and Snape. It's the same with Muggleborns."

Hyacinth thought about it. Honestly, it kind of made sense. Muggles weren't really capable of teaching a magical child about the magical world, or of helping that child navigate the magical world.

"Hyacinth," Drisana cut in, "Mother would like to see you."

"Have fun," said Theo with a smirk as Hyacinth dragged herself inside the Manor.

Narcissa Malfoy was waiting, purse in hand. "Come now, dear Hyacinth, I'll be having no trickery this year. Your birthday's coming up and I've found a lovely shop I'd like to take you to. We'll be back before supper, never fear."

And that was how Hyacinth spent most of the day being prodded by seamstresses and pushed into silk and chiffon dressed.

In the end, she had an entirely new outfit that she was ordered to wear for her birthday.

Following that, Narcissa took her to a bookshop. "Now," she said as they entered, "Severus tells me you do quite well at potions, and while I'm sure he's an effective teacher, we can't allow you to slip away from practice during the summer."

She picked up a book entitled Potioneering for the Flexible-Minded. It looked innocuous enough, but Hyacinth doubted that it was.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," she said, "But I'm not allowed to do magic underage, I'm the only witch in the house."

"Hyacinth, dear, that doesn't apply to potions. The magic is in the ingredients, not the witch, so it's much harder for them to track. And even if somehow you were caught, you've nothing to fear, Lucius would speak on your behalf, you'd hardly get more than a slap on the wrist."

Reluctantly, Hyacinth agreed. She wasn't sure how Aunt Petunia would react to her brewing potions in the house, but then again, it would give her an advantage with Snape. It was strange, but it was exceptionally validating to receive praise from a teacher so opposed to giving it.

"And best keep this within your circle," Narcissa advised her, "This book can be a little . . . unsettling to those unused to such things, and we wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about you, my dear."

Hyacinth wasn't sure what to say. She knew Narcissa and Lucius had been helping Athena learn Dark offensive curses since the summer prior, but it was hard to reconcile the image of socialite Narcissa, so obsessed with dresses and high heels, with this Narcissa who taught twelve-year-olds combat magic and gave them books on what were probably Dark potions.

"But," Drisana would always say, "Dark magic doesn't mean a Dark witch or wizard. Sometimes things get labeled Dark just for being powerful."

Hyacinth wasn't the quickest to believe that. Maybe it was true on some level, but once you started using a little bit of Dark magic, it didn't seem hard to snowball into a villain.

That being said, how bad could potions be? Considering the fact that things like Felix Felicis, Polyjuice, and Veritaserum weren't labeled Dark, when they could be used for failproof success, impersonating someone, and forcing someone to spill their deepest secrets, maybe things were a little backwards.

So she said thank you, and took the book, and tucked it away in her trunk when they got back to the Manor.

. . .

That night, after dinner, Drisana came to her guest room.

"Hya," she said quietly, rubbing her eyes, "I can't sleep."

Hyacinth herself was already in the sleeping shorts and t-shirt she typically wore to bed in the summer, and her hair was tied back. "Why not?"

Shrugging, Drisana pushed past her into the room. "I just can't, and I'm bored. What are you doing?"

"Uh, getting ready for bed, Sana." She didn't know where the nickname came from. She had never called, nor heard anyone call Drisana by anything other than her full first name (or Miss Malfoy, if they were at school). Perhaps it had merely slipped out in her fatigue.

Drisana's eyes widened, but then she smiled. It was different from her typical smirk. It was the kind of smile she might have at six a.m. while the sun was rising and she was pulling Hyacinth to the top of the Astronomy Tower. The kind of smile she rarely let show.

"Well, that's boring. Did you bring your violin?"

"Yeah, but it's late, and the sound will wake up Daphne, she's the next room over."

"Oh please, Daphne doesn't sleep by herself ever. Can't stand the silence or the solitude. She's probably with Pansy or Athena as we speak. Regardless, I can cast a quieting charm. Please, Hya, you play so well."

Hyacinth blinked. "Fine. But only a couple of songs, and then I need sleep. Your mother put me through the wringer today, you know."

"Yes, but you got such an exquisite dress out of it."

"Not quite as exquisite as the potions book, though," she replied as she began to remove her shiny violin from its case. This wasn't the first time Drisana had begged her to play for her, so she'd gotten into the habit of bringing it to the Manor with her.

She played a few slow, sweet melodies, and Drisana settled onto her bed, staring at her with wide silver eyes.

"What?" Hyacinth asked when Drisana didn't drop her gaze.

"I wish I'd had the patience to learn an instrument," the blonde admitted, "But I'd always get annoyed with the teachers Mother tried to hire. Wanted to be doing magic."

Hyacinth giggled at the mental image of a tiny Drisana throwing tantrums at piano or violin teachers, asking for a wand or a broomstick instead.

"Well, we can't all be musical prodigies like me," teased Hyacinth. Drisana rolled her eyes and swatted her on the arm.

"Night, Hya," she said as she left.

Hyacinth went to bed, smiling to herself at the absurdity of Drisana Malfoy.

. . .

Her birthday came and went in much the same way as the previous, and soon enough she found herself on the train back to Hogwarts. There was a strange man in their typical compartment, but there also weren't really any other open compartments, and the man was asleep, after all, so they sat and left him alone. He looked raggedy anyhow.

Tracey came barreling into the compartment, and then stopped short. "Who's that?"

"Dunno," replied Hyacinth, "He was in here already, but he's been asleep, and there wasn't anywhere else to sit."

"Um, alright. Hya, have you heard about Sirius Black?"

"Who?" asked she and Hermione in unison.

"Sirius Black. He's escaped from Azkaban!"

"Who is that, exactly?"

"You really don't know?"

Hyacinth shook her head.

"Sirius Black was . . . well, he was good friends with your parents, and he ended up betraying them to You-Know-Who."

Hyacinth narrowed his eyes. "He was a Death Eater?"

"That's what they say. I mean, things like that get blown up in the papers, but he's on the loose and they're saying he's after you."

Of course he is, thought Hyacinth, because one normal school year would be too much to ask for.

Hermione's eyes had widened in alarm, and she looked at the raggedy man asleep on the other side of the compartment. "Is that -that's not -"

"No," assured Tracey, "Black's got long, black hair, and this man might look a mess, but he doesn't look like a mess that just broke out of prison."

Suddenly, Hyacinth felt a rolling tide of despair wash over her. Like all the light, all the life was being sucked out of her. From the looks of her friends, they felt it too. The whole train had gone quiet and dark. All Hyacinth could think of was misery -the months she'd spent in cold fear for Hermione, the guilt she'd had upon discovering her friends had taken on a piece of Voldemort's soul and almost a basilisk for her, the distaste she had for the elitism of Drisana and Pansy and some of the others and the internal conflict it led to, the sad nights where she missed Aunt Petunia, the sadder nights where she wished her parents were there.

And then she was seeing things. A high, cold voice. A flash of green light and terrible cold. Then, a cupboard door slamming in front of her. A fat round boy twisting her arm. A flattened face on the back of another's head -but these things had never happened.

That was when the raggedy man woke up with a start, just as a dark and horrid creature approached. The man shouted "Expecto patronum!" and the silver form of a wolf leapt into the air, chasing the creature away.

The man dusted himself off, and examined the three shaken students. Quickly, he went into his trunk and retrieved a few bars of chocolate, passing them to the girls.

"Dementor," said the man, "Horrible things, truly. They feed on one's happiest memories."

"Right," said Hermione, "And who are you, exactly, if you'll excuse the directness?"

"Of course. Professor Lupin. Defense Against the Dark Arts." He looked at Hyacinth directly for the first time, and appeared taken aback for a moment, but the expression left almost instantly, and the new professor excused himself.

"Well, at least this one seems to know which way's up," offered Hyacinth.

"Maybe he won't give Athena migraines," added Tracey with an amused smile.

"But what on Earth was a Dementor doing on the Hogwarts express?" Hermione wondered.

"Heard they're keeping them on the grounds this year, to keep Black away," answered Tracey, "One probably got off-course, they're not meant to be within range of the students."

. . .

"Do you think I should show Snape the potions book Narcissa gave me?" murmured Hyacinth to Theo while they were on their way to advanced potions.

Theo looked from side to side, as if checking for anyone who may have been listening in. "Yes. Snape was always trusted, if you take my meaning "

Vaguely, an understanding settled to her. There was that familiar feeling of puzzle pieces clicking into place. "Oh." Was that why Snape had hated her father so much? It was no secret her father had been an auror. And if Snape had been on the other side of things . . .

Theo said nothing more, his blue eyes shifting again.

When she showed Snape the book, right after their advanced class, he looked up at her with calculating eyes.

"Miss Potter . . ."

"Professor Snape."

"Narcissa Malfoy bought this for you, I imagine?"

"Yes, sir."

"I trust she instructed you to be careful whom you tell about this book?"

"Of course, sir."

"And you've already brewed some of these?"

"Yes, Professor. Mrs. Malfoy taught me how to brew Draught of the Living Dead and Felix Felicis over the summer."

"And you succeeded?"

"Mrs. Malfoy seemed to think so, sir."

Snape actually laughed at that. "Very well. If you're really that interested in Potions, you may find a free time and come use the lab. I shall watch over your progress, and if you do acceptably I'll continue to teach you beyond what anyone else in your year is learning, even your fellows in advanced. Are these terms acceptable, Miss Potter?"

It wasn't that she was particularly interested in Potions, it was that Theo's words from second-year were still ringing in her ears: If you have the chance to advance yourself, you take it. And she didn't see any of the other professors offering her advanced lessons, so for now she'd take what she could get. Besides, there was a lot one could do with a potion. Liquid luck, for example, sounded like maybe the most useful thing ever, and she now had five vials of it from the cauldron she'd brewed over the summer. Narcissa hadn't let her keep all of it, claiming that so much luck in the hands of one Slytherin was bound to be disastrous.

"Yes, Professor."

. . .

It was the first Defense lesson of the year, and Athena was bouncing her leg with nerves, hoping to Merlin this teacher wasn't as much of a narcissistic lunatic as the previous one.

Luckily, he wasn't. Professor Lupin actually seemed like he might have a handle on how to teach a class, although she wasn't exactly foaming at the mouth for their first lesson.

Boggarts. She knew vaguely what they were, Mother had told her once, but she'd never been face to face with one. As far as she knew, the House Elves took care of any stray magical pest that might somehow find its way into Rosier Manor.

So, that left her with the question: What was her biggest fear? Her classmates thought her fearless. Athena, the heart of a Gryffindor and the mind of a Slytherin. Athena, who started a dueling club and knew Dark curses and hexes and would probably go toe-to-toe with You-Know-Who if she ever saw any advantage in it, whispered some of the Ravenclaws in her year.

So what was she afraid of?

"Fear is a tricky thing," explained the professor long before they would begin trying to tackle the creature, "Generally, most people are afraid of more than just one thing in this world. Unless you have one fear that is clearly dominant over the rest, you may not be certain what your worst fear is. That being said, I would like to remind everyone that while some of us may have fears that seem silly to others, and some of us may have fears that seem very serious, all of them are someone's worst fear, so please be kind to each other. Now, the counter-curse for a boggart is 'Riddikulus', but to use it properly you must envision your fear as something laughable, something entirely the opposite of scary." He then used Neville Longbottom as an example, whose worst fear was Professor Snape.

Personally, Athena felt sorry for the students in other Houses who only knew Snape as a cold and cruel Potions teacher -which he could be, but you had to understand his personality like the Slytherins did. He was reserved by nature, and snide, but that didn't mean heartless.

Longbottom then forced the image of Snape into his grandmother's clothes, which even the Slytherins had to admit was amusing.

Then it was Granger's turn. Her worst fear was something very sad indeed. It was Hyacinth, dead.

Granger was a mudblood. Athena might have been raised with a little more tact than some of her counterparts, but she still knew right from wrong. Granger was wrong, she was someone who intruded on their world trampled all over magical tradition and customs, and only increased their risk of exposure to the Muggle world. Every time another Muggleborn's parents (and siblings, if they had them, and whoever else those Muggles deigned to tell) were told about magic, that increased the likelihood that word of magic with actual proof to it might start spreading. Athena wasn't dumb enough to believe that propaganda about Muggleborns being Muggles who "stole" magic -first of all, how would so many Muggles even find out about magic, let alone figure out how to steal it for themselves? -but she did know there was a very good reason why one ought not to trust or engage themselves with Muggleborns. They came from a different place, they would never be societally equal even if they were born with the same magical abilities. There was no comparison between a child of Muggles and a child of a family that had been accumulating and cultivating magical knowledge and tradition for centuries. Even Hyacinth was above the former, despite having been raised by Muggles, because she was still the heir of an old and powerful magical line regardless of who her mother was.

And despite all this, something about Granger's boggart hit home. Another Muggleborn had gone before her, and his biggest fear had been Professor Dumbledore snapping his wand and telling him no, sorry, there's been a mistake, you're not really a wizard after all, we'll have to wipe your memories and send you home now. One would have expected something similar from Granger, but instead there was this. Hyacinth Potter lying there dead.

Athena knew, of course, what her own biggest fear was, had known for years, and it wasn't a dead Hyacinth, or a dead any of her friends for that matter, but there was something you had to respect about people who loved the same people you did, enough that a world without them was their worst fear. There was something impossible to hate about Granger in that instant, mudblood though she was.

Granger stood there, horrified, unable to move or even speak the counter-curse. It was the first time any of them could remember (besides broomstick riding) that the girl hadn't naturally excelled at something.

Eventually, Lupin stood in front of her and cast the counter. Hyacinth herself looked shaken, and stared at Granger with emerald eyes.

Next was Hyacinth, the first of the pack of Slytherins, but before she could go, Lupin stopped her and told her it might be better for her to do hers after class. She narrowed her eyes at this, but didn't protest.

Then it was Athena's turn. She closed her eyes, counted to three, could already hear the complete silence from the Slytherins behind her and the scattered giggles from the Gryffindors off to the side as her boggart took form.

One. Two. Three.

Athena Rosier opened her eyes to the form of Alastor Moody before her. Her eyes instinctively went to the prosthetic leg, the leg that had been taken by Evan Rosier during the battle in which Moody took his life.

Fear and deep deep hatred bloomed in the forefront of her mind. She could already hear the "Death Eater's brat," mutters from the Gryffindors, but she did what she'd been taught to do: ignore the outward, focus on what you can control. She could control herself and this boggart.

A leg is no price for a life.

She shoved the fear somewhere where it wouldn't hold her back, tried to envision the paranoid ex-Auror who'd murdered her father while she was still in the cradle as anything comical.

"Riddikulus!" Alastor Moody became something shrank and shriveled, no bigger than a baby, and grotesque. Hideous, but not scary, not to Athena. Just the pathetic truth that she knew the man to be.

When she looked at Professor Lupin, there was something sad in his eyes.

I've no use for your pity, she thought darkly, before going and standing next to Hyacinth.

Hyacinth took her hand, squeezing firmly, and Athena had to keep herself from squeezing back because the force would have been bone-crushing.

They watched, as their peers went and faced their own worst fears. Pansy was afraid of rats, Daphne vampires. Tracey's was revealing; it was herself, at first appearing for all intents and purposes the same until she lifted up her left sleeve and revealed the Dark Mark. A gasp ran through the class, and Tracey looked on the point of tears as she screamed the counter-curse. Blaise's was a man whom Athena vaguely remembered meeting a young age, one of his mother's husbands, who was now deceased. Theo's was his father Lord Nott, telling him that he was a disappointment to the memory of his mother, and that it was his fault she was dead, and the dreadful image carried on like that until Theo mustered the will for the counter-curse.

Theo was smart and sly and ambitious, and Slytherin through and through, but that didn't mean he wasn't still soft in the center, and Athena felt (not for the first time) a sense of kinship between her and Theo, both Death Eater's brats, both without a parent, both pushed into dark roles for their lives before they'd even been born.

And what choice do we get, in the parts we play? How much of an option was there, for people like her and Theodore Nott, with parents killed by the side that claimed to be the Light? Maybe they did have a choice, but when everyone expects you to be Dark, it almost makes you want to prove them right just to show them how dark it can really get.

So then, where did that leave Hyacinth Potter? Parents of the Light who were murdered by the Dark Lord in his failed quest to murder her. Raised by Muggles. Where did her ultimate loyalties lie?

It was tricky. Hyacinth had chosen Slytherin -you didn't stall the Hat for that long without getting some measure of a say in the matter -and she surrounded herself with Slytherins. She had never estranged or alienated herself from the rest of Slytherin, but at the same time, she'd often chosen the company of that mudblood and some other Gryffindors. There was nothing wrong with Brown and Patil, but the Weasley twins were children of the Light, and Gryffindor tended to lean that way.

So, what was she playing at? Athena looked at the girl next to her with the lightning scar who still hadn't released her hand.

In any case, dark things were stirring, anyone with eyes could see that, and they'd all have to pick a side sooner or later.

. . .

After class, Hyacinth found herself the only student remaining.

"Er -sorry, Professor, but why didn't you let me do my boggart with the rest of the class?" she asked.

Lupin looked at her carefully. "I would think a Slytherin would be glad not to have her deepest fear exposed to a room full of her peers."

"Well, yes, of course sir, but why?"

"Forgive me, but I'll explain after you face the boggart. Ready?"

She nodded, taking a slow breath, and he released the creature.

Hyacinth found herself in front of Daphne -no, Drisana -no, Athena, -no, Pansy, -no, Tracey -no, Theo, -no, Blaise. Every few seconds it morphed to a different one of her Slytherin friends, and all of them in black hooded robes, holding a mask in one hand and revealing a Dark Mark on the opposite wrist.

It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. That is not them, that is not their future, there is still time to change the course of fate.

Tears gathered but not falling yet, she shouted the counter with deadly force, and collapsed to the ground with the weight of it, the images seared into her brain.

Lupin appeared surprised, but not shocked.

"I confess, that was not what I expected. However, I am still glad you did not do that in front of the class, I can only imagine the ensuing bickering. Why on Earth the Headmaster finds it so amusing to schedule classes with Gryffindor and Slytherin together, I will never know." The professor helped her to her feet, and Hyacinth took in a ragged breath as she dusted herself off. It occurred to her that boggarts would make an interesting offensive weapon, if they could be controlled and if the target did not realize what it was.

"What did you expect, sir?"

"I -well, I expected He Who Must Not Be Named. Alternatively, I thought perhaps it might Involve Miss Granger, the way hers involved you, and I thought we'd seen enough dead students for one day. And then, of course, came Miss Davis, and I thought that there were any number of terrible fears you might have, and in the event that it was You-Know-Who, it would be better for the whole class not to see him appear."

"Yes, well . . ." Hyacinth did not know what to say. There were worse things in this world then a raving psychopath intent on ruling the world -those things, primarily, were the people who enabled those psychopaths to gain power. People like the Death Eaters. You could hardly blame her for being afraid that her friends might grow into their predecessors.

"It says something very noble about you, Hyacinth, that your worst-case-scenario is one in which your friends have joined the Dark side."

She wanted to tell the professor that she wasn't intending to be noble, she was just trying to keep her friends in touch with humanity, and that if all her work came to naught and they all gave in to the monster that called, that was the worst-case.

"They have better purposes than utter Darkness," she muttered. It was true that not all Dark magic was necessarily evil, but the Dark side meant something had gone very wrong inside of you.

"Indeed."

"Uh, Professor Lupin, I was wondering if you might teach me the Patronus charm?" Hermione had later found out and told her that name of the charm Lupin had used to shoo the Dementor, and it seemed like a very useful bit of magic to have on hand when Dementors roamed the grounds.

He appeared shocked now. "That is a very advanced charm, Hyacinth. Something even grown wizards fail at, we don't attempt it in class until sixth or seventh year."

"Even so, I'd like to try. Besides, the Defense position is cursed and it would be wise to learn from a competent teacher while I have one, because Merlin knows who Professor Dumbledore will dig up next year."

Lupin laughed, and it was strange to see an expression of joy across the raggedy man's face.

"Alright. Let's begin."

"Now?"

"Do you have a class to get to?"

"No, sir, not until after lunch."

"Well, I don't have another class til then either, so we best start now. Now then, to conjure a Patronus, you must bring to mind your happiest memory, something of pure joy. If there is any unhappiness tingeing it, it will not work." He then demonstrated the proper wand movements and his silver wolf leapt into being.

She wasn't sure what her happiest memory was, but she had one in mind. She closed her eyes and pictured it. She was small, and Duncan was there, and they were at the playground at primary school. And a pale boy shoved her and made a comment about Indians, and Duncan punched the boy straight in the jaw. "Expecto patronum!"

She opened her eyes and there was thin silver mist flowing out of her wand. The professor was taken aback. "That was -that was very good. Do you have anything happier?"

She closed her eyes and remembered the day Hermione had woken up, the light at the end of months of darkness without her, those brown eyes blinking into consciousness and her best friend was back, and she screamed "Expecto patronum!"

There it was. A moose stood before them, not yet fully grown, antlers just starting to grow.

"That's interesting," murmured the professor, "And excellent work. I -to produce a fully corporeal patronus, at your age."

She stared at the physical embodiment of her happiness in this world. It was probably important that the happiest memory she could bring to mind involved Hermione, but they were best friends after all. What else could one expect?

A moose. Huh.

"You know, your father's was a stag."

"You knew my father?"

"Quite well. Your mother's was a doe, interestingly."

"They're symbolic, aren't they sir? Representative of our lightest selves?"

"Indeed. If I recall correctly, the moose represents balance."

. . .

She had decided it would be best to keep her newly-learned charm a secret, at least for now. There was no point in letting everyone know what you could do. It was the same reason she and Theo didn't exactly go around bragging about being in advanced potions.

So when she met up with her friends at lunch, she just explained that the boggart had taken longer than expected.

Drisana looked at her awkwardly. The blonde's boggart had been quite sad, actually -it had been Hyacinth, telling her that she'd never like her as much as Hermione, that she would always choose Hermione over her.

Green eyes met gray. What could one say about that? How do you reassure someone whose deepest fear is you leaving them?

In all the time she'd spent befriending Drisana, all the time she'd been theorizing about how to spread some tolerance among the blood purists, she hadn't expected the attachment.

But then, how could she not? How could you spend three years getting close to someone and be surprised when they loved you?

And be surprised to find that you were attached as well? No, she should've figured this would come, but of course it was an advantage. It was always advantageous to be loved.

She reached across the table and took Drisana's hand in much the same way she had to Athena during Defense class, lightly squeezing. Drisana blushed and looked down, but didn't drop her hand.

. . .

Then came Care of Magical Creatures. Hyacinth was taking that and Ancient Runes for electives, because she was loathe to subject herself to Divination.

Incidentally, Professor Kettleburn had decided the prior year would be his last, so the groundskeeper Hagrid was teaching the class now. Hyacinth didn't harbor the distaste that some of her peers did for the man -for all intents and purposes he seemed nice, if a little irresponsible. And truthfully she was rather interested in the hippogriff lesson.

Hagrid explained that you had to be respectful of hippogriffs, otherwise they wouldn't like you, and Drisana was complaining the whole time under her breath about the fact that the textbook bit her.

Then, Seamus Finnigan gave a demonstration. The white hippogriff called Buckbeak even let him ride it.

Drisana, of course, took this opportunity to prove herself, and strode towards the animal with the overconfidence only a girl who'd been raised to see herself as royalty all her life could have in the face of a regal magical creature.

"It's just an animal," she sneered. It wasn't the Malfoy girl's most appealing moment, to be sure. Hyacinth was torn between warning her to be careful and letting her proceed making a fool of herself.

She decided to let fate play out. Sometimes you have to let people make their own mistakes.

Drisana stalked forward towards Buckbeak, who was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

Drisana, of course, ended up being bitten by the animal, which led to Hyacinth and Blaise taking her to the infirmary.

Hyacinth might have laughed, if it didn't look like Drisana's arm had been broken.

Madam Pomfrey quickly saw to the arm, saying the bruises would still be there but the fracture was fixed.

"It bit me!" Drisana complained on the walk to lunch. "Stupid bloody bird, you can bet my father will be hearing about this."

Hyacinth held in a giggle and rubbed Drisana's uninjured arm soothingly. Blaise smirked at her with full lips and slit brown eyes.

. . .

"Honestly," said Hermione when Hyacinth relayed the story to her that night in the library, "You'd think she'd have a shred of respect for it, seeing as it's a magical creature."

"Yes, well, she has quite an ego, even still," said Hyacinth, half disapproval and half affection.

Hermione shook her head with a sigh. "I suppose we can't help how we're raised."

"No," agreed Hyacinth, "but we can help what we do about it."

Hermione looked at her with big brown eyes. "Sometimes I forget how wise you can be, Hya."

"I don't know how," she retorted with feigned arrogance, to which Hermione giggled and gave her a light shove.

That was when the twins came in. Hyacinth hadn't seen them much since the end of the previous school year. It was strange, to think they were now in fifth year, but they were the same as they'd always been. Fred and George Weasley would ever be the jokesters, the only difference being they were more advanced now.

At the moment, they were looking rather miffed at being in the library at all.

"Hiya, Hya," they said. George sat down next to her, and Fred took the seat across from him.

She rolled her eyes. "And exactly how long have you been waiting to use that one?"

"Pretty much since we met you," admitted Fred as he looked over Hermione's shoulder at her notes.

"Just seemed too easy to use right away," explained George as they began tossing a paper ball between each other.

"And what exactly do the two of you want?" asked Hermione as she finished her Charms annotations for the week, but she was smiling.

"Well, Hermione Granger, we were wondering if the two of you might be interested in a certain back-to-school party being hosted by yours truly this weekend."

"In the Tower?" asked the bookworm as she began putting her books away.

Fred leaned further towards her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Nope. Have you heard of the Room of Requirement?"

Her eyebrows knit together. "It's not in Hogwarts: A History."

"Not everything is," argued George, "There are some secrets of this castle you only find by exploring."

"All Houses welcome," they said in unison, looking at Hyacinth with mirrored smiles.

She pursed her lips. "I'll go if Hermione's going."

Hermione sighed dramatically. "Maybe. If you're lucky."

The twins laughed and high-fived each other before bouncing off, Madam Pince glaring after them.

"Of course I'm going," muttered Hermione as Hyacinth walked her back to Gryffindor Tower.

"I know. The way you toy with them is very admirably Slytherin, though," Hyacinth replied.

"Hush, you."

"Maybe it's all the time you've spent with Tracey and I."

"Please. When it comes to being coy, Tracey's the last one to take pointers from. That girl is pure sunshine."

"You've a point there. It's not a bad thing, though. A little sunshine is good for the dungeons."

. . .

"Do you want to come to this back-to-school party this weekend?"

It was another sunrise that Drisana had pulled Hyacinth out of bed for.

Drisana looked at her. "Thrown by whom, exactly?"

"It's an inter-House thing."

Drisana groaned. "You mean it's hosted by the blood traitors."

"I don't know who you're referring to."

"The twin terrors," snarked the blonde.

"Oh, those blood traitors. You know, technically I'm considered a blood traitor too."

"Shut up. It's not the same, you're not -" Drisana stopped, looking suddenly toward the skyline and as far from Hyacinth as her eyes could get.

"I'm not what?" Hyacinth asked, her voice toneless with danger.

"Nothing, Hya, I -"

"Not pureblood? Yes, Hyacinth Potter's a blood traitor, but it's not the same because she's not a pureblood, and her mother was a Muggleborn, and how much can you expect from those half-bloods anyway, right?"

"Hya, no, I didn't -"

"It's Hyacinth." She stood, suddenly. "I know that's what Pansy says. You think I haven't heard her? I love her but she's still a petty little girl. I ignore it because it doesn't mean anything from her, she has something bad to say about everyone, even all of us. And I expected something at least a little bit better from you." She shook her head, repulsed by someone she adored, and stalked off in the pale morning light.

. . .

"Merlin, Malfoy, what the bloody hell did you say to her?" Blaise asked after Hyacinth left dinner early, accompanied by the mudblood. She'd barely spoken the whole time, but rather than sorrowful, she looked angry, her lips pressed into a line the whole time.

Drisana pushed her food around her plate. "Nothing, Zabini."

"Okay, now I know that's not true," countered Athena with a raised eyebrow, "And personally, I prefer my Potter with a swing in her step, not a snarl."

"Oh, your Potter?" snickered Pansy as Daphne ran fingers through her hair, "I think we all know whose Potter she is."

"She'll be no one's Potter if Drisana doesn't apologize," Tracey put in with a meaningful look at Drisana.

"No one's but the bloody mudblood," muttered Blaise. He loved Drisana, had known her since early childhood, but her mouth had been known to run faster than her mind, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd landed herself in a sticky situation with it. And all things considered, he agreed with Athena. Hyacinth was a lot of fun when she was normal, and absolutely none when she was upset.

"You know," said Athena, looking at Drisana with intent, "We stood up to a basilisk and a shred of the Dark Lord's soul to get her back to normal last year, and you're not so frightening compared to that."

"Whatever, Rosier. Don't worry so much, she'll get over it."

Athena pursed her lips but sat back, dropping it for the time being.

A/N 2: Thank you for reading. If you have anything to say about the chapter (assuming it's kind, or polite even if it's not kind) don't hesitate to leave a review.