"We can't keep this contained, Headmaster. Students are asking questions. Earlier today I saw Potter"—Severus practically spat the word—"and Nott discussing the Chamber. Surely you can see why that combination might prove…concerning."

"Hogwarts was founded on the principles of learning, Severus," Albus said calmly, steepling his fingers together on his desk. "I, for one, am pleased to see Harry take initiative in expanding his base of knowledge."

A vein in Severus's neck bulged. "Wouldn't it be….prudent," he asked through gritted teeth, "to make a statement now, to control the narrative?"

"And tell the students there's a creature of indeterminate origin"—likely a basilisk—"in an unknown location somewhere in the castle, whose attacks are spurred on by Voldemort himself?" he replied, watching the man flinch at the mention of his previous master's name. "I do not believe so, Severus. But alas, that may change in the future."

"And how is the Pepper family faring in all this?"

Albus suspected Severus knew the answer. "I see no reason for them to be informed. Miss Pepper is not deceased, and as you're aware, Pomona is in the process of brewing a cure."

The Peppers finding out would result in the Association finding out, and the Ministry plants inside the Association would in turn cause the Ministry to find out. And while Albus wasn't naive enough to believe Janice's petrification could be concealed forever, he was in no rush to expedite the process.

"Which will take months. How is she supposed to catch up on a year of schooling?"

"With Ravenclaw tenacity," he said lightly. At Severus's scowl, he added, more seriously, "She'll receive special tutoring. Filius has already volunteered."

"And when the parents find out you've been concealing their daughter's…condition?" hissed Severus, clutching the edge of Albus's desk. "What then?"

"Then we weather the impending storm," Albus said bluntly, leaning back in his chair. "I realize this situation is less-than-ideal, but our options prove limited, I'm afraid. Maintaining discretion regarding Miss Pepper's condition will result in justifiable condemnation from the Association, but revealing the existence of a creature within our walls targeting Muggleborns will certainly stoke the flames as well, especially so soon after the unpleasantness with Miss White—"

That name incited Severus's other major concern. "When can I expect her removal?"

"I have made no such plans, Severus."

"Because of your preoccupation with other matters requiring your attention?" he prodded despite knowing the answer.

While there were many, many matters that required his attention, most of which Severus knew nothing of, Albus couldn't claim them as a reason for not moving forward with Diana White's removal. Instead, he spent the previous evening with a glass of elderflower wine in one hand, the other rifling through various photographs of Ariana scattered on the table. "No. It's because she will not be leaving this castle."

Severus let out a disdainful hiss. "Regardless of whether she's responsible for opening the Chamber—"

"She's not."

"Even if she's not, she's still a danger. With all due respect"—Albus had to stop himself from smiling; whenever someone said 'with all due respect,' it was more often than not coupled with the implication he was a doddering old man. He was used to people thinking of him that way, though it didn't make it true. "— your unwillingness to take action puts the safety of every living inhabitant of this castle at risk."

"Hmph!"

Albus glanced at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black in the corner of his eye, who had—aside from that contemptuous grunt—managed to avoid verbalizing his opinion, though his stuck-up nose and haughty expression made his intentions clear. He wanted Albus to put Severus in his place, but that simply wasn't Albus's preferred approach.

"I will handle it, Severus," he repeated.

Recognizing a useless battle when he saw one, Severus's expression soured, but moved on to another pertinent topic. "Have you decided when to make a move on Quirinus? The longer we wait, the more attacks can happen."

"Ideally soon, but that all depends on what proof we're able to attain, and so far what we have is…tenuous, to say the least. Has he said or done anything more concerning than usual since opening the Chamber?"

Severus's lips curled in disgust. "He's been exceptionally nervous, practically jumping at his own shadow. He sometimes mutters to himself when he thinks he's alone, and I trust you saw his pale countenance this morning at breakfast. Hardly the celebration of victory one might expect."

"Something might have interfered with the plan in some way," mused Albus, "which could be why Miss Pepper is petrified instead of deceased. I believe there's likely a connection with Miss White's presence." He sighed. "I suppose it all comes down to whether her arrival was a joke of the Fates, or if he enchanted her and brought her with him intentionally, as we discussed yesterday. If it's the former, he might suspect she witnessed something of concern. If it's the latter, then perhaps he foolishly attempted to control the Obscurus for some purpose and something went awry. Or perhaps he intended to frame her for opening the Chamber before you arrived, possibly without Voldemort's foreknowledge. And I can't imagine his ego would be pleased with that."

"Quirinus had out his wand when I encountered him," recalled Snape. "Whether her presence was coincidental or not, I believe he was about to attempt a spell of some sorts. Unnecessary, given how she remembers nothing of the incident. Otherwise it would certainly have been at the forefront of her memory."

Albus chose not to revisit their discussion about the decision to use Legilimency against Diana. "There's also a more mundane possibility to Quirinus's behavior we haven't discussed: The likelihood that our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor might have realized he's gotten a bit over his head. He'd hardly be the first to regret his dealings with Voldemort."

He looked pointedly at Severus, who showed the tiniest hint of pink on his cheeks. "I take it the Stone has been moved?"

"Naturally. Though I cannot tell you where at this moment, for obvious reasons." The less who knew of its newfound location inside the Mirror, the better. Before Severus could press, he redirected the conversation by asking, "I trust you are prepared for tomorrow?"

"Yes. Unfortunately." Because of Diana's consistently poor marks, a meeting was going to be held tomorrow with both Diana and Lucius. It wasn't a meeting Albus looked forward to, and Severus even less so."Once again I must reiterate, Headmaster, that tomorrow presents the perfect opportunity to suggest she be removed from the castle."

"Yes, I suppose it would be." Albus leaned back. "You're still in good graces with Lucius, I assume?"

Severus's face shifted into a neutral mask. "That's correct."

Albus knew that, despite everything, Severus maintained a fondness for Lucius. Understandable, considering how much Lucius helped him and the challenges he encountered as a young half-blood in Slytherin, back when the youngest Malfoy son still had some degree of open-mindedness.

Of course, that wasn't enough to stop Severus from feeding information to the Order about the Acheron, causing Sarah White's liberation and Lucius Malfoy's current headache.

Albus smiled wistfully. Though Severus was never extended an invitation due to the Lestranges' prejudices—something Albus suspected he was thankful for—Severus listened and learned as Lucius had one too many drinks. He recalled Severus's account years later of how Sarah distrusted him when he arrived with Pomona, unaware she was speaking with her savior. Diana disliked Severus for the same reason, and Albus wished he could reveal the truth, but a child knowing that information would be too precarious, and the needs of the many outweighed those of the few.

"Good. Someone else you might consider establishing a stronger rapport with is Harry." Snape's expression darkened and Albus stifled a sigh. "He's Lily's son, Severus."

"And James's."

"We're not our fathers," he said gently, but with a pointed look. Severus's scowl deepened. "Harry's sorting should have alleviated that concern."

While causing me concern…

"He still demonstrates the same unearned arrogance, the needless flaunting of rules, and the expectation of preferential treatment," Severus spat.

Albus doubted Harry demonstrated any of these qualities to a significant extent, but knew when Severus was in too deep to argue. "I daresay Minerva was quite pleased you didn't give him special treatment." The Slytherin team was going to be trounced this year without a good Seeker, another thing Albus felt guilty for. His philosophy had always been to let students work out their issues amongst themselves, only recognizing now in his twilight years how that likely contributed to the bigotry and hostility present within these castle walls. The Higgs situation could have—and should have—been handled better. "But try to see Harry as his own person. I daresay he has more in common with you than his father."

Severus's lips thinned. "Will that be all, Headmaster?"

"I'm afraid not, Severus. Since Lucius will be here tomorrow, is there anything concerning we should mention about Draco?"

"There are several things he might find concerning. Us, not so much."

Albus smiled. He wasn't often surprised, but the Malfoy scion shedding—or in the process of shedding—his family's prejudices was a pleasant one. He even spotted Draco and a Muggleborn girl, Hermione Granger, alone in the library once, and speaking with Professor Quirrell after class another time. "Excellent."

"As I said, Nott's the one to worry about."

Albus's smile faded. Theodore Nott was the type of person who wrapped bigotry in pleasantry—the most dangerous kind. "Are his beliefs genuine?"

"It's difficult to say, though he'd certainly want them to be."

Albus nodded somberly. Though he often didn't put stock in the rumor mill, he wouldn't be surprised if Cantankerous Nott really did kill murder his wife after she experienced a change of heart and tried leaving with Theodore. "Then that will be all, Severus. I'll see you tomorrow, first thing in the morning. And do try to be a bit more genial when we see Lucius. I know these parent meetings are your favorite part of the profession, there's no need to hide it."

Severus huffed and barely restrained from rolling his eyes. It was the same expression he saw from Severus many times as a student when Albus said something exceptionally lighthearted during speeches in the Great Hall. Always carrying such a heavy burden…never given the opportunity to be a child…

It reminded him of another Slytherin with a stolen childhood boy who did the same thing, fifty years ago.

During his time as a Professor, Albus made efforts to read Muggle literature and keep up-to-date on current events to bridge the gap between worlds. His increased responsibilities as Headmaster put a stop to that habit—something he'd since regretted—though a few texts and passages stuck in his mind decades later. One particular passage was from an American author, Ernest Hemmingway: "The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."

Despite the vast differences between their worlds, human nature remained the same. The world killed more often than it broke.

He hoped Diana and Harry would grow strong at their broken places, both their sakes and the worlds'.

Though, looking at the girl now, she didn't seem very strong. Her face was pale as a ghost, fists clenched atop her knees, eyes wide as saucers. If not for the gaudy bauble decorating her neck, he never would have guessed she had Malfoy blood.

But looks could be deceiving—Albus of all people should know that. Just the fact that she hadn't attempted fleeing showed strength of character, especially considering who sat next to her. Lucius Malfoy's lips were curled in the characteristic Malfoy sneer (is it practiced, or simply in the blood?) while his pale fingers drummed against the head of Jormungandr.

"Diana"—Albus couldn't stomach calling her Miss Malfoy, but Miss White would be needlessly adversarial—"do you know why we called you here today?"

He smiled kindly but Diana's face, if possible, grew even paler. She nodded. "It seems you're having a bit of a difficulty adjusting to Hogwarts. Understandable, really. After all, your integration into wizarding society was very…abrupt. Do you feel you're lacking in some basic knowledge that is putting you at a disadvantage compared to your peers?"

She shrugged feebly.

"He asked you a question," snapped Lucius, tapping his cane against the floor for emphasis. "Speak up."

"I–I don't know," she squeaked. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"The reason we're here today is to discuss your marks. Currently, they are…less-than-satisfactory, though I don't believe it's anything beyond help. As your Head of House, Professor Snape is here to review them and offer his valuable insight."

Confusion flickered on Diana's face. "Wait, this is about my…marks?"

''Not the Obscurus?' was the silent question.

"Yes."

Diana's shoulders relaxed slightly, but traces of rigidity could still be seen throughout her body. She was no longer scared, but suspicious. Perfectly reasonable, as much as he hated to admit it.

Lucius banged the end of Jormungandr on the floor in another unnecessary gesture of impatience. "What did you think this was about? Have you not read a single one of my letters?"

"Umm…"

Occasionally during breakfast, Albus would see Draco use his wand to set fire to envelopes Diana held up. I suppose that's one mystery solved…

Lucius exhaled and massaged his temples. "Severus, read them to me."

Severus unrolled the parchment and recited the list of marks for her classes. With every passing letter, she sank deeper into her seat while Lucius's face grew stormier.

"I'm passing History of Magic," she said weakly.

"The most useless class," snapped Lucius.

"All our classes have value," Albus reminded him. "However, I have noticed your lowest scores are in classes that involve heavy wand usage. Are you having difficulties performing spells?"

"Kind of," she muttered, growing red. "I don't know why. It worked in the shop…"

"Its core is made of Thestral hair," sighed Lucius. "Notoriously unstable, but no other wand worked."

"But it did work once," echoed Albus. "Which shows us that Diana is capable. The wand always chooses the wizard—or witch, in this case—and wands which contain this particular core are attracted to those who have suffered profound loss." Albus enjoyed seeing the flicker of discomfort on Lucius's face. "However, in order to master the wand, its wielder must be willing to accept death, which is no small feat, especially for a child so young."

"...I know I can't bring Mum back." For the first time today, an edge of defensiveness and irritation seeped into Diana's voice. She sat up straighter. "And I know she can't be a ghost either. I did accept it."

"Death can occur in many forms, my dear. Life leaving the mortal shell is simply one of them."

Her brows furrowed for a moment, then: "Are you talking about the death of my old life?"

She was sharper than he thought. "Yes. But death is not the end." From under the table, Albus did a subtle gesture to Fawkes, who had been perched silently atop a cabinet for the duration of the meeting. The phoenix's wings spread out majestically, and a melodious coo echoed throughout the room. Diana's jaw gaped in amazement while both Lucius and Severus rolled their eyes at the perceived theatricality. "The Phoenix is a mighty creature that suffers death, yet rises from the ashes stronger and more resplendent than ever. You will one day do the same."

Diana glanced at him with a look she couldn't decipher before staring back down at her shoes. Lucius scoffed. "These dramatics are hardly necessary or appropriate, and your assumptions are baseless conjecture. No, Dumbledore, this is simply a case of willful disobedience and apathy, and requires the appropriate solution." He leaned back in his chair. "I realize many parents of this generation are softer than flobberworms when it comes to enforcing any kind of discipline on their progeny, but I believe in the value of methods that have worked for centuries. Methods that were enacted when I was a student. I'm unsure if your aversion to the old methods are a result of catering to the bleeding hearts, but I will give permission and sign any necessary form to have her hanged in the dungeons, or caned, or whatever punishment you find suitable."

Diana grew several shades paler.

"No," Albus replied, quiet but firm. Though it wasn't technically banned, Albus made it clear he wanted his staff to pursue other means of correction. And despite Lucius's beliefs, parents had nothing to do with his decision to step away from the more traditional methods; he never received any pushback besides the occasional complaint of Apollyon Pringle's admittedly-troubling overzealousness. The decision was something he reached on his own and regretted not doing decades ago, instead corroborating to the culture of violence because that was always 'the way things were.' "Even back then, those punishments were never used for academic performance. The most effective avenue, I believe, is for your daughter to attend supplemental lessons."

"I'll start handing stuff in," blabbered Diana, fingers twisting the hem of her skirt. "I don't—I don't need a Professor giving me extra lessons."

"The work you submit demonstrates a woeful misunderstanding of key concepts," drawled Severus, "and every lesson in class builds off previous ones. Even if you are successful in focusing on the future, it's impossible to regain that missing knowledge without supplemental coursework."

"But I don't need an adult for that," she protested weakly. "I have a friend who can teach me. Hermione Granger. She has the highest marks out of any first-year."

"I refuse to have a Mudb—" He caught himself and started over, more calmly. "I refuse to have a Muggleborn instruct you in the ways of Magic. Absolutely not. My daughter will complete these…remedial lessons, Dumbledore. I trust you have a Professor in mind?"

"Yes," said Albus, smiling. Diana shot Severus a look of agitation and folded her arms, mumbling something under her breath. "What is it, Diana?"

"I just said," she mumbled, face growing pink, "what does it matter if I fail? Once I graduate, I'm going back to the Muggle world."

As far as Albus was aware, this was the first time she expressed that desire. Still, no one in the room was surprised.

"If you fail," Lucius said slowly, "not only will you bring shame upon this family, but we'll have no choice but to have you stay in the Manor throughout the year and receive lessons from a private tutor—or several, judging by the ineptitude reflected in the report. I don't believe that's a particularly desirable situation, do you?" Diana shook her head quickly; it wasn't ideal for either Malfoy. "Good. So I take it Severus will be in charge of the supplemental lessons?"

Diana's shoulders slumped, and Severus looked as though someone was holding a dead niffler under his nose. "Unfortunately, I'm unable to offer lessons of this frequency," lied Severus. "However, the Headmaster already made arrangements."

That was Albus's cue, and he looked forward to seeing the expression on Lucius's face. "I will be in charge of providing Diana with the additional instruction she needs."

Lucius's face did not disappoint. "Wh—no. No, absolutely not! Why would you eve—no. It's not appropriate."

"Why not?" he asked innocently.

"Because that's not the job of the Headmaster! It's absurd. Surely there must have been someone in the history of this school whose scores were lower."

"It's simply a matter of convenience. Unfortunately, Diana's level of need requires more involvement and time than the Professors can provide at this point in the school year. I have concerns that a fellow student would be able to address her needs as well."

Diana's eyes widened, finally putting the pieces together of why Albus really wanted to get her alone. She shifted in her seat and bit her lip.

"I find that hard to believe, given your own amount of…involvement, not just in running the school, but also the manner in which your hands seem to be in every aspect of wizarding life." It was a not-so-subtle reference to his presence at the Wizengamot trial. "Surely you have better uses of your time."

Albus smiled brightly. "On the contrary, children are our future and take utmost priority."

Lucius's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. "I see this for what it is, Albus. A transparent attempt to undermine my authority, corrupt my child's mind, and dig for information with all the shamelessness of a niffler. Just like Weasley." He tsked in disgust.

Years of practice prevented Albus from telling Lucius he did all the damage to his child's mind on his own. "I understand your concern, but I'm afraid you'll have to take my word that I have no intention of 'corrupting' anyone. My concern is solely academic performance." Years of practice also eliminated his lying tics. "Perhaps Severus can inform you of any changes in behavior or attitude. As Head of House, he would see her far more regularly than I would."

"Hmph." Lucius fiddled with the head of Jormungandr, and Albus could practically see the gears in his head spinning. Wondering whether Diana's access to Albus could provide Lucius with some sort of advantage, no doubt. Albus went for the coup de grace. "If you would prefer to withdraw her from Hogwarts, that is well within your right, though it'll be a shame to see her go."

Lucius finally caved. "How often will these lessons be?"

"Once a week, or once every two weeks. It may decrease in frequency as the year progresses."

"I see." Lucius's fingers clenched around Jormungandr's slivery serpentine head. Then, they loosened and he stood up. "Thank you, Headmaster, for your generous, highly irregular offer. Diana, I expect these marks to improve."

She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like an affirmative. Lucius gestured to the door with his cane, and she hurried out without sparing him or Severus a second glance. Lucius stalked out afterwards, though he had the time to give Albus one last glare.

Albus remembered a time when seeing that expression on Lucius was a rarity, back when he was a polite yet solemn boy, masking a large entanglement of insecurities and anxieties. Back when he was a victim to the world instead of a victimizer.

He stifled a sigh; sometimes he forgot that Pureblood children were victims of the cultural malaise present in their society, albeit in a different way than Muggles and Muggleborns. And while Albus learned long ago he couldn't change the past, there was still a chance to help children of the future.

"No."

Albus restrained a sigh. He didn't bother with a polite smile, knowing it would incense his brother even more. "You understand why I require discretion, given the sensitivity of her situation."

Aberforth let out a grunt of derision as he continued wiping the glass with a less-than-clean rag. Not many things surprised Albus anymore, but knowing that his brother did make efforts to clean the Hog's Head and the inn still looked like…this…was one of them. "Hasn't that poor kid been through enough? Don't rope her into whatever plan you're brewing, Albus."

"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said it's for her benefit."

"You're right, I wouldn't."

"I don't feel my request is unreasonable, Aberforth."

"Reasonable?" Aberforth echoed in disbelief. "You have the gall to come in here after God-knows how many years, asking that I close my business? And expect me to be okay with that?"

"I didn't expect you to be okay with it, though—in the interest of clarity—I would like to reiterate that I'm asking it to be closed for one hour at most."

"Unlike you, I don't rake in a huge salary. Every hour counts."

Yes, the two patrons that would have shown up would make quite the financial difference, I'm sure.

"I will compensate for whatever"—measly—"galleons you would have made otherwise. Triple it, even."

"That's not the point," Aberforth said gruffly, tossing the silverware into the rack with unnecessary force. "I'm not one of the countless sycophants who thinks the sun shines out of your arse. You knew what I'd say before you entered the damn door. So why the hell would you come here?"

Mentally steeling himself for the multiple directions the conversation could take, he said, simply: "Ariana."

Aberforth's face grew a dangerous shade of red. "How could you even have the stones to say her name?" he hissed.

"This girl suffers in a similar way. I couldn't help poor Ariana, but I might be ab—"

"So this isn't about the girl anymore. It's about your own ego," accused Aberforth. He threw the rag on the counter and folded his arms, glaring at his brother. "You're using this child, who's been used and manipulated by every adult wizard she's met thus far, to placate your own sense of well-deserved guilt over Ariana. Get ou—"

"She's an Obscurial."

Aberforth paled. His mouth snapped shut, and Albus rushed to elaborate before he could recover. "Her performance in school is lacking. Primarily, I believe, due to her unwillingness to accept her lineage. She doesn't want to be a witch, and who could blame her? But this resistance to her magic and disdain for herself has allowed this Obscurus to flourish. If she accepts her magic and place in the world, it could be managed, and hopefully even destroyed."

"Albus," Aberforth said quietly, "you can count on one hand the amount of recorded cases where a witch or wizard frees themself from their Obscurus."

"And if all goes well, this will require you to use the second."

Aberforth no longer appeared angry, but dejected. "You can't put other students at risk just to placate your guilt and savior complex."

"From what I gather, she hasn't attacked anyone. She's merely seen its…presence. And there are factors working to our—"

"Your," corrected Alberforth.

"Everyone's advantage. She didn't develop her Obscurus until age eleven, much later than most. It's still in its fledgeling stage, which means it may not be as deeply rooted into her psyche. This is the optimal time to take action."

"Still…" Aberforth sighed and ran a calloused hand through his hair "Aren't you the one always going on about how the needs of the many outweigh those of the few?"

He winced slightly. "Yes, well, I never claimed to be immune to the occasional bout of hypocrisy."

"Occasional?"

"If action is taken now, there's a good chance for Dianaand the rest of the students of Hogwarts to remain safe. I simply want what's best for everyone."

"And if it doesn't work?" snapped Aberforth. "Then what?"

"Then I do what is necessary and follow traditional procedure."

Aberforth closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, sighing again. "So I'm guessing you're not nearly as busy as everyone thinks, if you've got time to carve out a big commitment like this."

In truth, the decision to be this involved with Diana couldn't have come at a worse time, given the need to find what remained of Voldemort and put an end to this Chamber madness. But as much as Albus hated to admit it, Aberforth was onto something when he mentioned how this was a way to redeem himself for handling things poorly with Ariana.

"I'll make do." With a time-turner, if necessary. "Like you said, Aberforth, this girl has been failed on every level. Can you fault me in wanting to give her a chance?"

Aberforth was quiet for a long time, his gaze drifting toward the painting Albus purposely avoided looking at from the moment he entered. When Aberforth raised his pointer finger, that's when Albus knew he won. "You get one hour. Saturday, from 3 to 4. That's it."

"Thank you, Aberforth," Albus said, smiling. "Truly."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Aberforth. "Now get out."

"Do you have any extra glamor wards, by chance?" Albus asked casually as he wrapped his purple scarf around his neck.

"...Why?"

"If it's not a bother, I'd prefer that you put them up on Saturday. She might be intimidated eating alone, and no progress can be made unless her mind is at ease."

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "Get out, Albus."

Though his brother's voice lacked the bite from earlier, he did as requested. And as he walked through the door, he dared to glance at Ariana's portrait for the first time in decades.

She smiled back at him.

The crisp November wind tickled Albus's beard, causing a small smile to emerge on his face. The walk to Hogsmede would allow him to catch the wonderful sight of changing autumn leaves, and a welcome respite from the stuffiness of his office. He was just waiting for—

Ah. Perfect.

"Welcome, Diana," he said, smiling brightly as the girl poked her head out of the castle doors. "Ready for a new adventure?"

The question was rhetorical; the poor girl looked as though she were about to faint.

She shrugged feebly, and Albus gestured for them to keep walking. "I always love the changing of the seasons. Things would be awfully boring if they stay the same? Leaves falling off creates new growth in the spring."

He expected to get a lapse of sullen silence, and for a moment he did. Then, she murmured, "Why can't there be a spell to freeze them, so they stay the same throughout the year?"

Technically there did exist such spells, but…"A life frozen is not worth living. Everything must change and eventually pass, as is the way of all living things."

Diana's lips thinned and she turned away, and Albus stifled a sigh. Curse his inability to restrain himself from being poetic. "I know you've experienced a great deal of change this past year."

"Yeah." She said nothing else, and Albus didn't push.

As they continued to walk, he picked up on small details others might overlook: the sweat beaded on her forehead, the short breaths, the way she kept adjusting her necklace. "Is everything alright? You look a bit tense."

"This necklace is heavy," she muttered, looking away.

Albus wasn't naive enough to believe that was all, but suggested, "I can perform a charm to make it as light as a feather. It would have to be remove first, otherwise—"

"No!" she blurted forcefully. Albus blinked. "I, um, I'm good, thanks…"

"I see." Albus decided to stop beating around the bush. "Diana, you have nothing to fear from me, though I understand why you're concerned. Could you tell me why you think you're here?"

"My marks…"

"What else?" he prodded gently.

"Janice Pepper…" she whispered, not making eye contact. "I know she wasn't taken to the hospital for that Muggleborn illness."

The cover story for Janice's absence was that she needed to be taken to St. Mungo's immediately due to catching one of the magical maladies that sometimes emerged within Muggleborns. The few that existed were rare, but could potentially stretch out over the course of a year. Nevertheless, Filius Flitwick informed Albus that some of the Ravenclaws were suspicious of Janice's sudden departure, a headache he'd need to deal with later.

"That's correct. And why else do you think you're here?"

She said nothing, though her face reddened.

"Diana, do you know what an Obscurial is?"

He knew she already knew the answer to this question from Severus's account of her memories. She nodded feebly, tears welling in her eyes.

"Then I can assure you your predicament has nothing to do with the misfortune that befell Miss Pepper."

She looked up in confusion. "But I was right there, next to…" She bit her lip.

"The message about the Chamber of Secrets," Albus finished, gently. "But Diana, an Obscurus does not petrify, nor does it write messages on a wall— especially since you had no prior knowledge of the Chamber. An Obscurus lashes out in hurt, in anger, in fear. It's an extension of yourself, an entity that is created from and replicates strong emotion. What happened to Miss Pepper is outside of your purview, and what I believe to be the result of very coincidental, yet very unfortunate, timing "

He was fudging the truth slightly; while the Chamber of Secrets could only be opened with Voldemort's assistance (and must therefore have been a result of Quirrell), he was still deciding whether or not her presence there was coincidental. Currently, he leaned towards Quirrell enchanting her, though he had difficulty pinpointing a rationale for why. Nonetheless, he certainly couldn't tell Diana a wizard might be infiltrating her mind.

"...What is the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked tentatively. "Every time I ask someone, I get a different answer."

He chuckled lightly. "Such is the way of rumors. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I cannot shed any light on that matter, as I have never ventured into it myself, should such a place even exist. As Professor Snape told you, the Professors are investigating the matter of the Chamber thoroughly. You needn't worry, my dear."

Diana's shoulders slumped. "...Okay. But if you don't think I wrote the message but know I'm—I'm an Obscurial, then am I still going to get sent to the wizard jail?"

Albus's lips twitch upward at the idea of an eleven-year old in Azkaban. Fudge would faint from the optics alone. "You," he said, more confidently than she (and he) felt, "are going to learn to control and manage the entity until it vanishes completely."

"I can do that?" she asked, eyes bulging. "I thought everyone who had one dies!"

"Many do," he replied truthfully. "But there are several factors working to your advantage that the others didn't have."

"Like what?"

"At the risk of sounding arrogant, myself." This was the first time he saw a real smile from her today. "I believe your difficulties with wandwork correspond with your inner resistance to magic, which created the Obscurus. In order to heal the Obscurus and cause it to vanish, we need to first heal the emotional wound caused by magic."

"That's impossible," she said sullenly, folding her arms. "You know what happened to me."

He did, perhaps more than most. He still relished in the memory of Lucius's expression when he stood and recited his misdeeds in front of the Wizengamot. "Some wounds heal scarred, but they're healed all the same. Learning to accept magic does not mean accepting the injustices wrought upon you. It simply means accepting yourself, which is something every student who walks through these castle doors struggles with. Yet they often leave with more self-knowledge than they had coming in. In your case we must expedite the process a bit."

"How am I supposed to do that?" she sulked. He knew better than to say it out loud, but she looked a lot like Lucius at that moment.

"Through these lessons. Your father is under the assumption these sessions are strictly related to spells and textbooks, but the most important knowledge for you to glean is that of self-discovery. I shall tell you more on that matter later. I'm quite famished, you see, and would love to get a bite to eat before we begin."

She looked at him skeptically, but said nothing. Inwardly. Albus smiled. Today was going to be a day she would look back on fondly, a day where she could be a child instead of a miniature adult.

Something that he should have done with Tom, but never did.

Despite his previous grumbling, Aberforth enacted the glamor wards. Though Albus and Diana were the only guests in the Hog's Head, the illusion cast suggested a handful of other patrons present. However, if one were to inspect carefully, he or she would notice the patrons' patterns consisted of a loop that would repeat every few minutes. None of them so much as glanced in the direction of him and Diana, which was the most important part.

"Why isn't there anyone else here?" she whispered, clutching at her elbows with pale fingers.

Albus blinked; this was another rare surprise. Without using the Revelio spell, the only way she should be able to see through the illusion would be if she had fairy blood in her, or if she was holding some kind of magical object that inherently dispelled illusions or protected one's mind.

His eyes landed on the necklace. Ah. Of course.

He had long wondered what secrets the fabled Brisingamen held, and though its exact nature still remained a mystery, he at least now had some degree of insight.

"I suppose we should count it as a blessing," he said lightly. She nodded in agreement. "Let's take a seat over there."

They headed to the least grimy-looking table, and Albus pretended to look at the faded menu while Diana inspected it for real. Her jaw was clenched and her fingers kept fidgeting; he didn't need to be a Legilimens to know how she was feeling.

"I read your quote in The People's Voice. The one about how what ties us down can also lift us up. It was very inspiring."

"Oh." Her cheeks reddened. "Thanks…"

He tilted his head slightly. "Were those your own words, or were you instructed to say them by your father and stepmother?"

"No." She hesitated, then added. "I stole it from a Muggle movie. I panicked and that was the first thing that came to mind."

"Ah. Well, I shan't tell anyone if you won't."

Her gaze fell again. "I kind of wish I said how I really felt, but I didn't want to draw a lot of attention."

"Understandable." Albus started to say that she'd become braver as she got older, but stopped himself. There was his Gryffindor bias again, heightening the importance of courage over all else. There were other strengths, and other ways for her to achieve her goals. "Is there anything else on your mind?"

She was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Did that stuff my father said really happen here? Getting hung in the dungeons…caning…things like that?"

"Yes, but that type of consequence has not been enacted in Hogwarts for a long time, and I have no intention of changing that."

"...I think he does things like that at the Manor, to Draco," Diana said, so quietly Albus had to strain to hear. "Maybe not the same but similar. And if he does it to him, then it'll definitely happen to me. He hates me."

She didn't seem angry or anguished, and the matter-of-fact way she had it pulled at Albus's heartstrings.

"It would not be uncommon," he said evenly. "Parents–of any blood— often repeat punishments parents enacted. I take it that type of consequence would be a stark departure from your life in Amberton."

It was a casual statement with a deeper intent behind it. During Lucius's custody trial, Burgess Borthwick showed Muggle reports stating that Sarah White was deemed to be an erratic, unfit mother, and there was a stretch of time where Diana was raised by her grandmother before Sarah was granted access to her child again. According to the Muggles, Diana's basic needs were not met, and there were troubling physical and verbal altercations between them that caused the Muggle courts to feel such placement wasn't safe.

Of course, Albus strongly suspected Sarah's erratic behavior and mood swings were a result of the brain chemistry being altered by the Obliviation, which begged the question of whether or not she was truly at fault for the behavior. But regardless of the reasoning, her actions did bring harm to her daughter, and it did cause Albus's determination to waver for a few seconds, wondering if his push to keep Sarah and Diana together was yet another example of him being blinded by his own ego and ambition.

"I wasn't caned or chained to walls or whatever," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. That was all he got out of her about that topic. Her gaze then fell, and her fingers curled atop the table. "Is there any way for me to stay at Hogwarts instead of going back to the Manor for the winter holidays?"

"Yes, though you would need permission from a parent or guardian. Remember that if anything…concerning occurs, it's within your right to bring it up with Mr. Weasley. While he might not be able to ensure your comfort, he can at least ensure your safety."

Thoughts of poor Linda Rowle struggling against her watery tomb filled his mind. He pushed them away.

Diana scowled and slouched down in her chair. "He basically told me the only thing he can do is make sure I don't get killed or tortured like those other Halfbloods. At least I can't get chained up in a dungeon….we don't have a dungeon." She hesitated, then, "I mean, I don't think we do, but the Manor looks like the stereotypical rich villain's mansion, so maybe it's hidden in a secret passage behind a bookshelf or—wait." Suspicion crossed her features. "In Hogwarts: A History, it talks about the changes in school rules over the years. It doesn't say anything about it being banned."

Albus was surprised she read it, given her marks. "Officially, it's not. There is a large amount in wider society who support the use of such punishments, and though I've been transparent with my thoughts on the matter, making an official statement would draw unnecessary focus and stir the proverbial hornet's nest. So we simply do what we want while those who would be vocal remain oblivious or apathetic. As time progresses and the students of today become the parents of tomorrow, I imagine an official change would no longer be seen as controversial at all."

Diana's shoulders relaxed. "That's a Slytherin way of thinking."

Albus smiled. "I suppose so. The Hat did consider placing me there."

"Do you think it's smarter, then, to not rock the boat?" she asked with hesitation. "Or at least not make it obvious?"

"It depends on the situation and its different facets. There are times when tact and cleverness can be more advantageous in the long run, but change is impossible without those willing to stand and speak up for what they believe in, even if it's unpopular. I do so myself, at certain times."

"I know…" She fiddled with her necklace and looked away. "Was someone upset because Janice spoke up? Is that why she was petr—wait. Why's that bloke talking to an empty chair?"

Albus, grateful for the distraction, followed her gaze and winced. Poor Aberforth was keeping up the charade of wards, and Albus commended him for commitment to the bit. "Perhaps a bout of madness induced by stress or—ah, there he comes now—"

"Welcome to the Hog's Head," he barked, shooting Albus a withering glare. I suppose he heard me.

Diana shrank down in her seat at Aberforth's abrasive tone. Honestly, that man has no tact.

Albus gestured his head towards Diana, and the hint finally drilled its way into his brother's thick skull.

"Mornin'," Aberforth said in his friendly tone, which admittedly didn't sound that friendly to strangers. But it was a noticeable difference from earlier. "What do you want to order?"

"Um, I'll have some fish and chips, please…"

Aberforth scrawled it down his notebook. He turned away without sparing Albus a second glance, but that didn't stop Albus from adding, "I'll have the lamb stew." He gave a vague grunt of acknowledgement.

"This is my brother, Aberforth," Albus said to Diana, smiling.

She gaped and snapped her head back and forth. "Really?!"

Aberforth frowned. It wasn't a secret per say, but he normally didn't like it when students knew. "Yes, and if I do lose my marbles, it'll be because of this one here." He pointed to Albus.

"Ah, just a little humor," he said to Diana, winking.

It suddenly occurred to Albus his lighthearted jab at Aberforth earlier might have been in poor taste, considering Sarah White's perception among the Muggles. But luckily, it had the desired effect of putting Diana at ease, and she smiled hesitantly as Aberforth huffed and stalked off to make their meals.

"I didn't say this before, but I heard what you did for Mum during the trial," she murmured, gazing down at the table. "Thank you. Not many people helped out."

"It was my pleasure. And you needn't feel guilty for not attending."

It was only in hindsight that he recognized how poorly he handled the situation. He should have gone instead of Minerva and Filius, but he prioritized politicking over one of his future students.

Diana's bottom lip wobbled. "She'd be so upset to know I'm here."

Albus pressed his palms against the table and leaned in closer. "She'd be upset to know you're going to see a unicorn?"

Her eyes lit up.

In the middle of the day, it would be difficult for an outsider to glean why The Forbidden Forest got its name. Sunlight shone through the tree branches. The only sounds heard were the nearby babbling brook, the birds' melodies, and whispers of the wind weaving through the grass.

"How much longer?" she whispered excitedly. He smiled. Perhaps he was being sexist, but the stereotype of girls loving unicorns usually proved true in his experience, and it appears he gambled correctly.

"Not much further. Do you remember your instructions?"

"Mhmm." Diana was much more talkative walking to the forest than she was traveling to the Hog's Head, asking questions almost entirely related to unicorns: What colors were they? What food did they eat? Can wizards transform them into humans? Can they fall in love with humans? (That one gave Albus pause) Can they bring people back from the dead?

She also broached the topic of the dead unicorns, which somehow made its way to the school grapevine despite his best efforts to keep it contained. He gave her the same vague, canned response he did whenever a student inquired about the topic, though it did make him realize he probably shouldn't have brought a student into the forest given the attacks. Then again, Voldemort wouldn't be so brazen as to try anything in Albus's presence. Not at this point in time, anyway.

"There it is," he whispered once they reached the final row of trees that guarded the clearing. "Go on."

She looked up tentatively. He nodded encouragingly and she trembled forward, pushing the bushes aside.

The white unicorn was curled up and resting, a portrait of tranquility. Upon sensing her arrival, its head jutted upward. It stood up abruptly, yet stayed still like Albus expected. Earlier, he visited the clearing and filled a bowl with Drought of Peace and ambrosia berries on top, a unicorn's favorite treat. That calmness should last throughout the day. Not that he should need to use it, but he didn't want the unicorn to pick up on Diana's nerves and scatter.

And it didn't. The unicorn remained stationary as Diana reached into her robe pocket and pulled out the ambrosia berries. It reached down and began munching while she reached up with a trembling hand to pet its mane. She let out a quiet squeal and her eyes danced with joy. "I can't believe this is happening! I'm really petting a fuc—a unicorn! This is wicked!"

As Albus expected, the unicorn took to Diana completely and nuzzled her neck. "Holy shit!" she blurted, excitement removing the language filter. Albus chose not to comment. "This is the best day of my life."

The unicorn looked comfortable enough for Albus to step out of the shadows. "This particular unicorn doesn't have a name. Would you like to do the honors?"

"Me?! Um, well…I think…yeah. I think it's gotta be Amalthea," she breathed, completely enraptured.

None of the unicorns really had names, but Diana seemed happy. "A beautiful name, if a bit unorthodox. Though I must tell you this unicorn's male, I'm afraid."

"Oh. Um, how about Lir?"

"That sounds lovely."

"Where's the rest of his family? Were they killed? Is Lir the last unicorn?" She gasped softly. "Oh my god…this really is just like the movie…"

In truth, Albus was concerned. When he came earlier he spotted two others, though there were plenty of non-Voldemort related reasons why they might not be here. "They might be off grazing in another area of the forest. Do you know why you're able to get so close to it?" She shook her head. "Unicorns are attracted to those of great purity."

"I think I read something about that in the Muggle world," she said, blushing slightly and avoiding eye contact. "No boys, otherwise no unicorn."

"I'm afraid that's a misconception," he chuckled. "Purity is not tied to physicality, but rather something found deep inside oneself. By touching Lir, it's a sign you are pure of heart, Diana. Despite your magic, and despite your lineage. I want you to look into the creature's eyes." She bit her lip, but did as he said. "Do you sense evil in him?"

"Of course not," she replied, offended. She gave him extra pets in reassurance.

"Unicorns are creatures of magic who could not exist without it," he explained. "Magic is a tool. It can be used for dark purposes, but it can be used by those pure in spirit."

He saw a glimmer of…something in her eyes. Then, the bushes rustled. Lir reared up on his hind legs and bolted off as Firenze trotted into the clearing. Diana's eyes widened like saucers. "Hello, Albus."

"Firenze." He smiled, though inwardly irritated at the inconvenient timing. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have news of the dead unicorns." Albus was grateful for his eighty-plus years of maintaining a neutral mask. "Another was found last night near the whistling stones. Its silvery blood painted the leaves, along with its viscera and entrails."

Diana let out a strangled cry. "I see," Albus said, smile straining. "Thank you for informing me, Firenze."

"Ronan saw its killer flee into the shadows and toward the direction of the castle. Pale and foreboding as Death itself. "

"Yes, I understand. Firenze, this is Diana, a student here for remedial studies. We really must be going now, but I do appreciate the information."

Firenze focused his intense gaze on the trembling young girl. "Hello, child."

"H-Hello…"

His gaze returned to Albus. "There's more: we have news of the beast lurking within the castle walls."

Now he really wished they left the Hog's Head five minutes earlier. "Yes?"

"I ventured into the den of the Acromantula, despite their desire to entomb me and feast upon my flesh. I bargained with their leader—"

"Wait wait wait!" blurted Diana, growing three shades paler. "What's an Acromantula?"

"Giant spiders larger than yourself that gather in the hundreds and burrow deep within the forest."

If she didn't look like she was about to faint before, she did now. "Th-they're here? In the forest? Where we are?"

"Not in this area, but yes. They informed me that the creature within the castle is an ancient beast hundreds of years in age, but they dare not speak its name."

That information provided nothing he didn't know before. "Thank you, Firenze. That information will be of utmost use."

He nodded. "It is my hope the unicorn that just left the clearing does not meet its grisly death at the hands of whatever entity is tearing these beautiful beasts apart."

"As do we," Albus said, inwardly fuming as Diana's eyes filled with tears. "Goodbye, Firenze."

Firenze nodded and trotted out of the clearing. "Centaurs are an honest, admirable race," Albus explained once he was out of earshot, trying to ignore the poor girl's sniffling, "though tact admittedly isn't one of their strengths. Why don't we head back to the castle?"

He originally wanted to spend a bit of time having her practice spells, but this conversation practically undid everything he built up during the past two hours.

"Wh-what about the giant spiders?"

"As Firenze said, they're deep within the forest. We won't encounter them if we retrace our steps."

"This is such bollocks! Sorry, but it is. I can't—I can't believe I'm walking in a forest with giant man-eating spiders!" she cried, tugging at the ends of her hair in panic. "Oh my god!"

Damn it, Firenze. "Yes, well, it is called The Forbidden Forest for a reason. But even if we were to encounter one—which we will not—I have enough knowledge and spells to keep us safe."

"No offense," Diana began, a steel edge creeping into her tone. Albus braced himself. "But you haven't caught the killer—wait, two killers—inside the school. And you also kept the school open. That judgment seems a bit odd to me."

Yes, they were definitely undoing all progress.

Albus counted to five in his head, giving both Diana and himself time to calm and formulate their thoughts. He genuinely could not remember a student—especially a first year—ever speaking to him this way, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't bother him. But there were a multitude of factors at play: her current terror, a history of justifiable mistrust of adult wizards, and lack of respect for wizarding institutions in general. He needed to remind himself of that.

He also needed to remind himself she wasn't Ariana. This girl was jaded, suspicious, angry—everything Ariana was not, though she had every reason to be.

"Miss Pepper is not dead, and the other has not brought harm to any students. I understand you're upset, but this is not an appropriate—"

"Can't you teleport us out of here?"

"No, one cannot Apparate in or out of the school grounds. Let's continue walking, shall we?"

They spent the next few minutes in silence. Eventually, the anger radiating off her dimmed into a vague sense of unease and guilt. Stepping over a log, she said shyly, "I think I have an idea for catching the unicorn-killer. Why doesn't someone use magic to replicate the scent or sounds of the unicorns, and then lure the killer into the place with the giant spiders? Then the spiders could kill and eat the unicorn-killer."

Albus eyed her warily. Yes, she most certainly wasn't Ariana.

But maybe that's why she'll survive…