November brought frost to the world, and it also brought Quidditch to Hogwarts.

The day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match arrived. McGonagall and I were very much looking forward to seeing Slytherin get clobbered- something that had not happened since Charlie Weasley left the Gryffindor team.

Technically, as I was not the Head of Gryffindor House, I was expected to be a neutral spectator. Naturally, the entire staff knew where my allegiances lay, but I tried to keep up whatever semblance of disguise existed by resisting the urge to wear a Gryffindor scarf. Instead, I wrapped a familiar scarf around my neck. It was the scarf my brother had given me, which Sirius had kept temporarily.

I remembered the night he'd returned it to me. We had both been on shift and I had been angry at him. He had been depressed because both of his parents had passed away and he had inherited Grimmauld Place.

A bright banner flashing Potter for President caught my eye just then, and it pulled me back to the present just in time. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and tossed the Quaffle into the air. The players kicked off into the air.

Lee Jordan was commentating. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"

McGonagall started beside me. "Jordan!" she shouted.

"Sorry, Professor," Lee said hastily.

I smothered a laugh.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle…"

Flint attempted to score, but he was stopped by an excellent move by Oliver Wood, who passed the Quaffle to Katie Bell, who dove into action, and was followed closely by her fellow Chasers. Much to McGonagall's and my delight, Gryffindor scored.

Then, Adrian Pucey of Slytherin abruptly dropped the Quaffle as a flash of gold passed his ear.

I grabbed McGonagall's arm as Harry and Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs both hurtled toward the Snitch. Harry's faster, I thought excitedly. I can tell- He's moving up!

Then, I saw Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain diving towards Harry.

"No!" I cried out, a split second before he actually collided with Harry.

I winced as Harry's broom spun off course and Harry was holding onto his broomstick as tight as he could.

"Foul! Foul!" the Gryffindors cried. Gryffindor was given a free shot, which Alicia Spinnet put away easily.

"So- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-" Lee said.

McGonagall, despite her own indignation, was fair better at being fair than me and she growled, "Jordan!"

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul-"

"Jordan, I'm warning you-"

"All right, all right," Jordan said reluctantly.

Gryffindor took possession of the Quaffle again, and the players were back in action. Harry was keeping well away from the action, which was a smart play, especially given that he was so small in stature compared to players such as Flint. But slowly, he seemed to be going higher and higher in the sky. It was gradual, but I wasn't too sure if Harry meant to be doing so, and it made me nervous.

"Professor-" I started to call McGonagall's attention, but just then Slytherin scored.

Then, Harry's broom began to roll over and over.

"Professor!" I said, and yanked on McGonagall's arm.

She gasped, and she was not alone. Suddenly, everyone in the stands was pointing up at Harry. Harry's broom gave a wild jerk and Harry swung off it.

"No!" I yelled, standing up. I drew my wand, ready to cast a Cushioning Charm at any moment. What is going on with his broomstick? It's almost as if someone had bewitched it. But who? I started to scan the audience, all the way keeping my wand at the ready in case Harry fell. I wondered if someone like Lucius Malfoy had attended the game, but then I realized he wouldn't be sitting with the students, but with us, in the teacher's box. The person could be right beside me.

I risked a glance around me, and I saw Snape, with his eyes fixed on Harry, muttering under his breath. I started to raise my wand at him, but something held me back.

Why would Snape do this?

Every atom in my body was telling me that it was Snape, but my instinct urged me to look again. I cast a quick glance back at Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard that he was close to falling. Panic coursed through my veins, and it sent me into a state of focus that I hadn't felt in years. I felt myself being pushed back into my carnal mindframe, which was the mindset I had lived with for many, many years back when Voldemort was still at large.

"Professor, be ready to deploy a Cushioning Charm," I said to McGonagall, and then I clambered over the stands to get a better look at the people in the teacher's box. It was difficult because I was sitting in the middle of the box, and people pushed at me as I clambered over them, but I didn't care. I looked up, and saw Snape still muttering furiously, but just behind him was Quirrell, also muttering under his breath. I followed his gaze, and sure enough- it was on Harry.

Confusion and panic flooded my brain. What is Quirrell doing? One of them is muttering a countercurse, otherwise Harry would have fallen by now. But who is cursing Harry and who is helping him?

Suddenly, it clicked in my mind.

Snape had said on Halloween night that he had been off to the third-floor corridor to stop the intruder and shortly after, when I questioned why he had reacted that way, Snape had said that Dumbledore hadn't told me everything. Snape had also come to the bathroom, not only with his leg bitten, but with Quirrell.

I suddenly realized the piece of the puzzle that made sense of everything.

It's Quirrell.

Dumbledore suspects Quirrell, and he told Snape. That's how Snape knew to that the troll was a distraction and that an insider would go to the third-floor corridor during the commotion on Halloween night.

And that means that right now, it's Quirrell who's cursing Harry.

The next rational question was: Why is Quirrell doing this?

But I didn't have time to dwell on that question.

I started to point my wand at Quirrell, when I caught sight of none other than Hermione Granger. She was underneath the bleachers, pointing her wand at the hem of Snape's robes. I made to stop her, but she was intent of her spell, and there was no way for her to hear or see me in the midst of the yelling crowd, many of them yelling at me to sit down. Her well-executed charm set Snape's robes on fire. The man besides Snape noticed first, and stood up to stamp out the flames. Snape quickly began to step on his own robes and accidentally tripped the man besides him. He toppled over backwards onto Quirrell, effectively breaking Quirrell's eye contact on Harry. The crowd in our box was pandemonium and there were a hundred questions running through my mind, but the one clear thought was: Harry.

I hurriedly turned around and looked up at Harry. While Quirrell was distracted, I picked up from where Snape left off and began to recite the countercurse myself. Though I was hardly as effective as Snape, it was enough to break off Quirrell's curse on Harry completely and Harry clambered back onto his broom.

Then, Harry suddenly sped towards the crowd and clapped his hand to his mouth.

I gasped and ran to the edge of the box, pushing people out of the way.

"Will you sit, you mad woman?" someone shouted at me.

Harry hit the field on all fours. He coughed, and then a moment later, he was waving the Snitch over his head and shouting, "I've got the Snitch!"

I managed to put my hands over my head and yell, "Yes!" before the people in the box finally had enough of me blocking their view, and aggressively dragged me down into the stands.

But I was going to get my hands on Quirrell if it killed me.

I pushed people off of me and got on my feet, but just as I was clambering over the stands to leave, Snape grabbed my arm.

"Leave Quirrell be," he hissed in my ear. "Dumbledore's orders."

"Then you follow them," I retorted. I pushed Snape backwards, freeing my arm, and chased after Quirrell.

But by the time I was out of the Quidditch Pitch, the grounds were empty. I ran across the grounds and around the castle, but not seeing Quirrell, I had to give up my chase. I decided, then, to go to Dumbledore.


Dumbledore raised an eyebrow when I came into his office, with snow in my hair and eyes flashing.

When I saw that Snape was already there, my lips formed a thin line.

"I'll wait outside," I said as politely as I could manage, and stepped out of the office.

When Snape came out, he paused and said coldly to me, "It's no wonder that the Headmaster does not trust you. Running after Quirrell like a child caught up in her own emotions… You have no appreciation for the broader strategy."

"And I am impressed by how easily you've become Dumbledore's lapdog," I replied. "You have no idea how utterly ridiculous it is to hear you chiding me for ignoring Dumbledore's orders. And for how much you say you hate Harry, you certainly acted quickly to save him. Were it anyone else, I would thank you, but with you, Snape, I only feel disgust. You have no conviction."

"Understand this," Snape said, and his voice was dangerous. "I feel no loyalty to the boy. I act under Dumbledore's orders, and for that reason only, I defended the boy."

"Do you think that that is something to be proud of? You think you save your dignity with that clarification, but what I understand is that you would not admit repentance even if your life was on the line," I said quietly, but fiercely.

Snape's eyes narrowed, but Dumbledore called me in just then. Snape swept past me, and I entered Dumbledore's office.

"And so, Severus tells me that between the two of you, Harry was saved from a terrible fall," Dumbledore said.

"From Quirrell, no less," I said wryly. "Tell me, Dumbledore, if I went down to the dungeons at this very moment, what would I find Quirrell's challenge to be?"

Dumbledore replied calmly, "A troll."

I breathed out.

"So you knew," I said quietly. "Of course you did. And did you believe that Quirrell was the one who attempted to steal the Stone from Gringotts?"

"I suspected," Dumbledore corrected me gently, "and I still do. That is why I asked Professor Snape to watch over Harry. And Severus has done a remarkable job, I might add. He reacted better than I would have at the Quidditch match, though, I believe I shall come and watch the next match myself. It's been a long while since I've watched a game, and it's high time I stretched my limbs and got some exercise- by which, of course, I simply mean a walk to the stands and some idle clapping. You won't find me on a broomstick, I'm afraid."

Dumbledore's attempt to lighten the mood failed and he watched me struggle for words.

Finally, I said, "You trusted Snape to protect Harry."

"Yes."

"You gave him information you believed would help him to protect Harry."

"Yes."

"And yet you did not deem it appropriate to afford me the same information."

"That is true."

"I know it's true. I'm asking you, once again, why, Dumbledore."

"Raylynx," Dumbledore said, in an almost pitying voice, "you already know why."

"You think I care too much for the boy," I said slowly.

"That is correct," Dumbledore affirmed softly. "To you, that boy is nothing less than a chance at redemption."

Those words cut me to my very core.

"That chance, combined with the love you are certain to have for him as Lily and James' son, means that you would go to great lengths to protect him," Dumbledore explained. "But you see, Harry must learn his own strength. Within the safety of these castle walls, he must prepare himself."

"Prepare himself," I repeated, without any strength in my voice.

"I told you when you first arrived at Hogwarts that Harry Potter's arrival would trigger a cascade of events. We stand upon that brink now. And with the time we have, it is imperative that Harry try his strength."

"I feared that if I gave you too much information, you would rush to protect him without ever letting him risk adventure," Dumbledore explained. "I must admit that I believe I underestimated you. These past weeks have shown me that you are capable of resisting and of letting the boy grow on his own. Although I am sure it is not easy, I am glad you understand how necessary it is to give the boy an opportunity to come into his own."

"You speak as though you are training a soldier," I said. My voice was calm now, but it was because the frustration I had been feeling only moments ago had melted away into a far more desperate fear. Voldemort back… I can't let myself remember how dark it was. I can't imagine reliving those years, and yet, according to Dumbledore, we are already on the brink of another catastrophic age.

I looked up at Dumbledore and said, "I know he's the Boy-Who-Lived, Dumbledore. I don't forget it for a moment, I swear to you. And I've heard the rumors among the students- that Harry can't be normal, that Harry himself is a Dark Wizard, that Harry inherited some of Voldemort's powers. But he's just a boy, an eleven-year-old boy."

"I see what you see," Dumbledore assured me. "But to train him as a soldier is his best chance at survival." If I had been more astute, I would have noticed that Dumbledore was carefully avoiding my gaze, but I was too caught up in myself to realize it.

"What can I do?" I said. "How can I stop Voldemort from coming to power and spare Harry the misery of fighting against Voldemort?"

"You must trust Harry," Dumbledore said firmly. It struck me how adamantly Dumbledore said that, and once again, I wondered what Dumbledore was not telling me.

"And if I wish to go after Quirrell?" I said. "He tried to hurt Harry."

"There is a reason I am leaving Quirrell be," Dumbledore said. "Of course, I do not intend for him to harm Harry, and I shall rely on Severus and you for that. But I suspect that Quirrell may lead us to further clues about the reappearance of Lord Voldemort and so, I am not eager to challenge him just yet."

"Are you sure he won't hurt Harry?" I pressed. "I've a mind to go after him right now."

"Yes, Quirrell will not hurt Harry," Dumbledore said. "In the meantime, there is a way to help Harry."

"Yes?"

"You can stop fighting with Severus," Dumbledore said.

I wrinkled my nose in automatic rejection of the idea.

"If you and Severus were to protect the boy together-" Dumbledore began, but upon seeing my face, he smiled and let the matter fall.

"On another note, I found something the other night that I wish to show you," Dumbledore said. "I believe you are familiar with this curious item."

Dumbledore pulled out what was indeed a familiar object.

"This is James' Invisibility Cloak!" I recognized.

"You asked James for it," I said, remembering. "You wanted to study it."

"You thought it was a Deathly Hallow," I finished softly.

Dumbledore did not meet my eyes, but gazed at the fabric in his hands wistfully.

Instead, he said, "I plan to return this to its rightful owner- Harry. It would make a fine Christmas gift."

I remained silent and watched Dumbledore. He was gazing at the Cloak, and I sensed that he was reliving some memory of his own. It was as though a younger man were emerging from inside of him. His eyes became bright, and then slightly wet. He seemed to sigh before he let the Cloak fall away from his hands, and for a moment, he suddenly seemed much more tired.

But then he turned to me again and said in an amused voice, "I seem to recall that you, Ms. Kingsley, once gave me wool socks for Christmas."

"Did I?" I replied. "Yes, I suppose it does sound like something the younger me would do," I admitted.

"You are not so old, Raylynx," Dumbledore reminded me. "Those days were not so long ago."

I gave a short and soft laugh, remembering that I had told my Ancient Runes class that just the other day.

"Yes, but those were simpler days, Dumbledore."


Although Dumbledore had not spoken directly on the matter, after the Quidditch match and my meeting with Dumbledore, I had great suspicions that Quirrell was both after the Stone and after Harry. That Quirrell would want the Stone was surprising, but not entirely unbelievable. After all, it was a Stone that would guarantee you as much life and money as you could want. What confused me and worried me was that Quirrell was after Harry. It made me wonder whether Quirrell was after the Stone for himself, or if- But no, it can't be. It can't be that Quirrell is acting on behalf of Voldemort. And yet, Dumbledore had made it clear that Voldemort was out there somewhere, and seeking his return- by what method, I could not say, but whatever was happening at Hogwarts and to Harry was no coincidence.

That night, I dreamed, and in my dream, I was plagued by some of my most terrifying memories: Nagini biting Dorcas' arm, Voldemort screaming, "Avada Kedavra!", a flash of green, a scream that could have been Dorcas', mine, Voldemort's, or all three of ours combined together, and then a falling body. I reached for it, but I couldn't move forward. Why? Suddenly, I realized I was being held back by a crowd of rotting corpses, Inferi that had dragged itself out of the water and were slowly pulling me back. As their clammy hands dragged me back, I heard Sirius' maniacal laughter somewhere in the distant and his voice saying, hoarsely, "You never did free me. So, join me." I felt as though I were being submerged in cold water. I was up to my neck, then, with one last breath, I screamed.

I jolted up. I was covered in cold sweat.

Shivering wildly, I tried to get up, to get out of my tangle of sheets, but I was shaking too badly, and I simply fell forward and tripped off my bed and onto the floor with a thud.

I clutched at my heart, trying to slow it down. I dreamed often about death- I couldn't help it. But I hadn't had a dream this horrifying and vivid in years. A few moments passed where I got my breath and stability back, but I couldn't fall asleep again that night. The night felt exceedingly long, and it was only when the sun came up, that I was able to close my eyes. My breathing slowed, and I had just fallen asleep when there was a sound at my window.

Rap, rap, rap.

I jolted awake again and then sighed when I saw an owl at the window.

I felt exhausted as I dragged myself out of bed to open the window and let the owl in. It was raining steadily outside, which I hadn't noticed, as I had been so lost in my own thoughts. When the owl came in, it's wings threw water droplets everywhere, waking me up a little. The owl perched itself on my bedpost and I realized that this owl was no ordinary Hogwarts owl, and it was definitely not my owl. It was quite large in stature and it's eyes and beak were of a color I'd never seen before. It was as though its beak had a purple sheen to it and its beady eyes seem almost silver. It held out its leg and as soon as I took the letter from him, the owl soared back out into the rainy night.

Sitting back down on my bed, I tiredly turned over the envelope and opened it.

Raylynx Kingsley,

Certainly, I have not forgotten you. The King's Wand does not choose lightly, nor do I easily bequeath my knowledge of Runes. It would take many more years before the memory of you leaves me. If my reply to your letter is delayed, forgive me. Our owls are not used to traveling to where you are.

To answer your question: Strange things have been happening in Albania. At first, the darkness from the vampiric caves in the mountains grew. Rumors of a second sorcerer reached my ears. To put it more specifically, it seemed there was a shadow and a sorcerer, but we could never discover whether it was one entity or not. The vampires grew bold and began to attack the villages and my people more often. However, quite suddenly, the darkness seems to have waned, and the vampires are drawing back. It has been a few months since the last terror attack on the village. However, I worry that the shadow has not disappeared and is merely on the move. Be on your guard.

Sehtzer. Beside his name were the merged runes of a War Leader and a Healer.

No longer tired, I re-read Sehtzer's letter, my heart thundering.

"It seemed like there was a shadow and a sorcerer…"

"I worry that the shadow has not disappeared and is merely on the move…"

There was something about those sentences that made me feel as though there was something very obvious that I was not seeing.

I paced restlessly in my room, until the sun was fully risen, and I had to don my Professor's robes and head to class.

It was difficult to focus on being a Professor when I felt like I just needed to sit down for a few days to think about what was happening at Hogwarts with Quirrell and whether there was any connection to what Sehtzer had said in his letter.

But my days were filled with teaching, as winter exams were approaching. I also tried to spot Harry in the Great Hall as often as possible, just checking that he was as healthy and happy as could be. It seemed that he had made friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and I that made me feel relieved. Not that either of them could protect him if a Death Eater were to show up, but they both seemed smart enough to know when to go running for help. But more than that, they made Harry happy. Having seen Harry grown up through random spying sessions on the Dursley's house, it wasn't difficult to realize that Harry did not have friends at school because of Dudley. So, it was both a relief and a blessing to see how well he fit in with others at school, and the initial rumor-mongering surrounding Harry seemed to have largely died down.

Moreover, I tried to keep an eye on Quirrell, but I frequently ran into Snape, who was also tailing Quirrell on Dumbledore's orders. Snape and I would squabble over the other having to leave because it was to obvious when the both of us tailed Quirrell, especially because Snape and I were infamously not friends. Quirrell, for his part, seemed to have realized that I knew about his motives after the Quidditch match, and he took great care to avoid me. He used to greet me in the hallways, but now he seemed to walk so that he always put large groups of students between us, and would slink off into an adjacent corridor or duck into a staircase.

And my nights were filled with nightmares again, nightmares that were strangely vivid. They hadn't felt this real since during the war. Sirius was in many of my nightmares, and I began to feel that terrible guilt I'd managed to swallow down- namely, that he was still in Azkaban without a trial.

Between trying to support my students academically and emotionally, feeling anxious about Harry and Quirrell, and suffering from nightmares every other night, I was beginning to wear down. And when I became overly tired, the old wounds began to hurt. In particular, my wrist on my right hand ached. It was where Bellatrix's hex had caught me and where the attacker from Albania had cursed me during my Auror mission with Jasper Riley. It was also where the branch had stabbed me when I'd fallen over from my first encounter with Remus in his werewolf form. An embarrassing incident occurred during class when my wrist suddenly tinged with pain. I lost control over my wand and consequentially, the chalk that I was controlling to write on the board with fell to the ground. My third years were very concerned. I tried to laugh it off, but when I bent down to pick up my wand, I accidentally hit my head on the edge of a desk. I bit my lip hard to keep from cursing.

Cedric got out of his seat to help me up and Fred picked up my wand for me.

I was about to thank them when Fred winked and said, "Too good of a nightcap last night, eh, Professor?"