A/N: The wait between these chapters is so long I'm gonna have to start doing a little "And that's what you missed on Glee," huh? xD

Disclaimer: I don't own this (and I also do not support JKR).

Elena slept in the following morning, as her timetable started with two free periods. She took her time preparing for her third period Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and before she even started in the direction of that classroom, she swung by the kitchens for a late breakfast.

She was two flights of stairs away from the DADA classroom when the bell rang for third period. Elena fidgeted with the straps of her tote bag and wondered vaguely if Charlotte's mood would have improved by this morning. She should be excited to find out how insane Moody is, at least, thought Elena, who was somewhat nervous about doing the same.

The night before, Elena had asked around about Professor Moody. "Oh, he's absolutely batshit," a fifth year had informed her with a knowledgeable nod. A fourth year had hummed in agreement, and from across the room a seventh year had called, "Are we talking about Mad-Eye Moody?" That was, apparently, his nickname.

None of it—particularly with the added thought of Neville and Draco's combined warning—had Elena looking forward to class. At least Lucy'll be here, she decided as she took the final step up to the appropriate landing. She drew in a breath and strode down the long hall toward Mad-Eye Moody's room.

When she entered, she found that the high-ceilinged and beamed room was already close to full of students from all four Houses. Why the hell is it crowded? Elena wondered as she tried to find anyone to sit at a two-seater table with. She outright ignored Harry's wild black hair beside Ron's messy red and, after a second of listening to the vague chatter around the room, she realized Charlotte and Lucy were already sitting together.

Elena continued searching—Terry and Anthony were together, Michael was with Oliver, Blaise and Theo Nott were together— There, she thought as she spotted Scarlett Lympsham alone at a two-seater table. She didn't know Scarlett well, but she wasn't close with Pansy. She was probably a safe choice.

Elena exchanged waves with Charlotte and Lucy before she reached Scarlett's side of the room. The other girl noticed her approaching and lifted her head to give her a quick, calculating onceover. "Hi," said Elena when she reached Scarlett's table. "Can I sit with you?"

"Knock yourself out," said Scarlett.

Elena thanked her and took the chair beside her, setting her tote bag down. She withdrew her book to set it on the scuffed table. As Scarlett said nothing, just fiddled with a button on the destroyed denim jacket she'd paired with her uniform oxford and tilted ribbon tie, Elena decided to ask, "Do you know anything about this guy?"

"Nothing good," said Scarlett. She studied Elena again. She was pretty, with medium brown skin, long dark curls, and dark brown eyes, as well as perfect eyeliner. "I'm surprised you haven't already heard of him. Doesn't your mum work at the Ministry?"

"She does," said Elena. She didn't bother explaining that she and Lily never really had any casual conversations about anything outside Potions and Harry. "I have heard of him. He was an Auror, right?"

"Yup," confirmed Scarlett, popping the 'p.' "One of the worst." She eyed Elena. "Or the best, in your family's opinion."

Fair, thought Elena. Scarlett must have had a historically Dark family, which presumably meant Moody, or another Auror, had killed or incarcerated at least one family member. At the thought Elena glanced around the classroom again. There weren't many Slytherins in the class—Scarlett, Blaise, Theo, Adrian Pucey, and Millie Bulstrode—but it was surprising there were any at all.

Elena might have followed up with more questions, but she heard an unusual and distinct sound from the corridor outside the open classroom door—a repeating thump and shuffle. Most of the class quieted and turned to watch Professor Moody limp into the room. He was sporting another long, dramatic trench, though the castle tended to stay at a moderate temperature, and his face was somehow more gruesome in the brighter light of day. I guess all those scars are from dueling Death Eaters? Elena thought, studying a particularly disgusting ropy one on his jaw.

Otherwise he had a wooden leg with a clawed foot at the end, which provided the unusual sound, and choppy dark hair. "You can put those away," said Moody when he reached the empty desk at the front of the classroom, before an empty chalkboard. He sat down in the chair behind the desk. "Those books. You won't need them."

A few students obeyed him, while a few others exchanged glances. Elena caught Neville's eye from where he was seated with Hermione Granger and he gave her a significant glance. Right, don't piss the guy off, she thought, and with a hint of trepidation she leaned over to push her textbook back into her tote bag. She noticed that Scarlett, beside her, left her book on the table and folded her arms.

After Moody took the register—the class mostly comprised Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs—he said, "Right then. I've heard about your last couple professors in this course. Seems the only competent one's been Professor Lupin." That was a little rude to Professor Quirrell, because he hadn't necessarily been bad, but whatever. "He gave you a pretty thorough grounding in Dark creatures—but you're all very behind on dealing with curses.

"So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—"

"What, you aren't staying?" blurted Ron.

Moody's magical eye whirred toward the redhead. Elena could almost feel the classroom waiting with bated breath to see what he'd do—something wild? Shout at him for interrupting? Throw him out into the hall?

Instead Moody offered him a twisted smile that more resembled a grimace. "You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh? Your father's gotten me out of a few tight corners… Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore… One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He gave a bark of a laugh and clapped his big hands together. "Straight into it," he said, and he started a lecture on curses. Elena more watched him than listened, still thinking about Neville and Draco's warning and nature magic and Death Eaters—at least until he somewhat abruptly snapped, "You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Elena glanced back to find Lavender Brown, a Gryffindor, looking startled in the last row. She stowed some rolled parchment she must have been looking at in her bag beneath her desk. Can his magical eye see that far? Elena thought, and instinctive nervousness set in. There's no way he can, like, read minds, right?

"Any of you want to tell me which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?" Moody asked the class, unbothered by Lavender's inattention.

After a long, awkward second of silence, several people lifted their hands. Moody called on Ron. "Er, my dad's told me a bit about one," he offered. "The Imperius Curse?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody with what Elena hoped wasn't relish. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse." He stood and swung open a desk drawer to reach in—and, to Elena's horror, he withdrew a glass jar filled with three Galleon-sized spiders.

Elena flinched and, without thinking, snatched her English oak wand from her bag to keep it in her lap. Her heart was already in her throat and she desperately wanted to look at anything else but couldn't tear her eyes away from the goddamn spiders. She managed to catch a strange glance from Scarlett, who must have seen her tense, and didn't bother explaining.

Instead she watched, her heart pounding, as Moody plucked a spider from the jar to mess with it. He spoke as he did, but Elena couldn't listen—she had to focus on breathing as normally as possible even with spiders at the front of the classroom. Fuck, she despised spiders, despised despised despised—

Elena only resumed listening when Moody's voice rose. "The Imperius Curse can be fought," he said, "and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. Constant vigilance!"

The entire class jumped and Elena almost dropped her wand.

Moody wasn't even close to finished—he replaced the spider and looked around, his mismatched gaze challenging. "Well? Another illegal curse?"

A few hands rose, more tentatively this time. Elena noticed Neville owned one of them. "Yes?" Moody asked him.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Neville, his voice barely audible.

Moody studied Neville, attentive, and Elena felt that nervousness again, her fight-or-flight instinct trying to kick in. She started to bounce her leg beneath the table. "Your name's Longbottom?" Moody asked. When Neville nodded once, Moody, apparently satisfied, returned to the spider jar. Elena bit her lip and stared as Moody set another spider on the desk. It just stayed in the same place, apparently too frightened to move. Elena winced, even though it was a spider.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody, with a note of what was definitely relish. Elena grimaced—as did, she hoped, most of the room, because they all knew what the Cruciatus Curse did. They'd learned the theory behind it with Professor Lupin. It was a curse that had been invented to inflict imaginary pain on the victim.

Back in the class when they'd learned about it, Elena distinctly remembered Charlotte raising her hand to ask Lupin about the mechanics. "Does it target the nerves?"

"Yes and no," Lupin had answered. "It targets the pain receptors, which are a part of each nerve. These receptors send signals to your brain, letting you know that something hurts, and in turn, your brain tells you to move away from it—or sends you into fight-or-flight mode depending on the situation. But with the Cruciatus Curse…your brain receives the signal, from each and every nerve in your body, and nothing can be done."

Elena felt her throat ache as she thought about it, as she thought about how awful it was that the curse even existed. She knew what was coming and managed to avert her gaze, focusing on the nearest empty bookshelf against the right wall, and openly ignored whatever the hell Moody was saying or doing to the spider—

Hermione shrieked, "Stop it!"

Elena flinched but didn't look back at Moody until she heard him say, "Right—anyone know any others?"

Everyone in the room had to know what was coming next. Even fewer hands rose into the air this time, and Moody called on Hermione. "Avada Kedavra," she whispered.

"Ah," he said. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra…the Killing Curse."

Elena had no need to see what happened to the third spider. She stared at the knots in the wood of her table and tried not to think about the night Voldemort had murdered her father with that curse. When he'd tried to use it on Harry, intending to turn it on Elena herself next, and when Harry had bounced it back and leveled their house.

The twins had discussed it before, years earlier, and although neither of them remembered much of anything from that night, Harry did recall green light and a high, cold laugh. Even now Elena felt a chill—and she still wasn't looking, but when there was a crack of green light, her eyes filled.

"Not nice," said Moody quietly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Everyone in the room looked at Harry, including Elena. She saw him fidget with the sleeve of his oxford as Moody resumed speaking. Although Elena was still furious with Harry for the entire Potions debacle, she winced. Despite his proclivity for attracting attention, Harry had never been particularly fond of it, and she was sure he was more than uncomfortable in this context.

She tuned back in when she heard another "Constant vigilance!" Moody had wandered over to sit on top of his desk, swinging his wooden leg a little as he continued. "Now, those three curses—Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus—are Unforgivable. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills, copy this down…"

He started to lecture. Elena watched him without really seeing him, stuck on those three spells, those three curses. Illegal to use but not illegal to teach underage wizards, she thought, and she set her jaw. She knew she shouldn't piss him off, not if she wanted to learn what nature magic was, but—she couldn't sit here for the rest of this class, taking notes and pretending any of this was fine.

Elena glanced around the room at the other students, either still and trying to process the cruelty they'd just witnessed or trying to keep up with whatever the hell this Auror was saying. She made eye contact with Lucy, who raised her eyebrows, and Elena could only shake her head back. Past her she spotted Neville beside Hermione, his face white as a sheet.

Somehow that did it. Elena, her heart already pounding and adrenaline rushing, shoved her wand into her tote bag and grasped the straps. "What are you doing?" Scarlett whispered.

"Dropping this class," Elena whispered back, and with that she stood. As she pushed back her chair most of the class looked over, and she slid out of the row, passing behind Scarlett. For a long, tense second Elena—as she turned around to take a single step toward the door—thought she might be able to escape without saying anything at all.

But Moody stopped lecturing and cleared his throat. "Is there a problem, Miss Potter?"

Shit. Elena considered pretending not to hear him for an instant, but the rest of the class was dead silent. She gritted her teeth and turned back.

Before she had to say anything, though, Scarlett rose from her chair. "I have a problem," the Slytherin announced as she snatched her book from the table and stepped out of the row. She leaned back to kick both her chair and Elena's beneath the desk. "I'm here to learn defense, not watch you torture spiders."

A couple of students gave surprised laughs. "So the two of you don't think you'll need to know what these curses look like?" said Moody, the sentence barely a question.

"We'll join the Dueling Club," snapped Scarlett, openly glaring at him.

There was another excruciatingly long second—Elena could hardly breathe in the stale air, and she could feel Harry and his friends and Michael and the other Ravenclaws looking at her. All she could do was watch Moody, though, wondering what the hell he'd do—

Abruptly Lucy shot upright. She scooped up her belongings and left her own row, and Charlotte twisted around to watch her and give Elena a bewildered glance. "I'll wait by the stairs," Lucy said to Elena, and she more strutted than walked into the hall, tossing her long braids over her shoulder.

Before her departure could sink in, Blaise rose, collecting his bag and navigating out of his row in what seemed to be a single fluid movement. His expression was frigid as he strode out of the classroom and into the corridor, cold enough that Elena imagined she could feel a wake of winter air behind him.

His disappearance sent some silent signal to the remaining Slytherins; each of them stood to gather their bags and books and walk out, too. Aside from Scarlett, Adrian was the last to saunter out. When he was gone Elena caught Neville's eye, beside a further stricken Hermione. Come on, Elena thought, raising her eyebrows at him. He bit his lip.

Elena watched the wheels turn, watched the pros and cons of the decision cross his face. He visibly drew in a breath before he fumbled for his bag and almost tripped out of his chair and his row, and he walked to the back of the room. He stopped near the door and Elena forced herself to stroll as casually as possible over to join him. "Anyone else?" Scarlett asked the room at large, her voice sharp.

Both Elena and Neville looked back around the room when there were no responses. Although most of the other students seemed shaken, a few openly traumatized, only Michael, Oliver, and Parvati Patil opted to leave, all three despite the whispered warnings of their nearby friends. When they were gone, Scarlett surveyed the remaining students, snorted, and turned on the heel of her Doc Marten to march out.

Elena shot one glance back at Harry, who shook his head, and Charlotte, who was staring at her in disbelief. Well, that's that, then, I guess, thought Elena, and she and Neville looked at each other. In silent consensus they walked out of the classroom and into the hallway together.

The hallway was already empty, and without speaking, Elena and Neville turned to the right to start back toward the stairs at the center of the castle. Elena's heart was still pounding and she tugged at the straps of her tote bag as she thought about Mad-Eye Moody and the curses he'd just shown them and nature magic—not to mention her own open defiance, which was usually Harry's forte.

Elena rolled her jaw and half-glanced up at Neville. He was still too pale beneath his freckles and noticeably sweaty. "Want to go with me to the library?"

Neville seemed startled out of his shock. "Want—what?"

"We know where Moody is," said Elena with a vague gesture back toward the open classroom door. She could already hear him lecturing again at a distance. "I want to look in the Restricted Section for anything about—you know."

"I—" started Neville, and he stopped walking entirely to face Elena, confusion and concern warring on his face. "You shouldn't be looking for anything about it."

Elena folded her arms. "I just want to know what the hell it is. I'm not running out to join some new Death Eater squad or the Aurors. I don't have enough information to have an opinion on—" She thought about her Political Science class for a second. "—anything, really."

Neville studied her and Elena stared back, waiting for an answer. "Yes," he seemed to decide aloud, and Elena half-grinned at him, pleasantly surprised. "Only because—well, I'm curious about how it affects Herbology." He pointed at Elena. "We have to be careful, though."

"Absolutely," agreed Elena. She turned to resume walking toward the hallway that would lead to the stairs, and Neville kept up with her. "And thanks for leaving with me."

"Yeah," said Neville, with a glance back over his shoulder at the DADA classroom's open door. "Yeah, that—" He faltered, and rather than try to complete the sentence he just sighed. Elena didn't press him.

A couple of turns later, the two found a few of their fellow rebellious classmates loitering on the third floor landing at the center of the castle, near several sets of stairs. Elena and Neville slowed as they joined the semicircle of irritated students—and Lucy rounded on Elena to swat her arm, making Elena jump. "What the hell was that class?!"

Parvati Patil pinched the bridge of her nose. "Absurd?"

"Traumatizing?" said Michael with a sarcastic and unamused laugh.

"Bullshit?" offered Oliver.

"And illegal as fuck?" said Blaise. Elena had to look at him twice, because his voice and his face were angrier than she'd ever thought she'd see, and somehow it was more intimidating than even Moody's quiet, inherently threatening aura. He folded his arms. "I'd suggest reporting him to Dumbledore, but we all know it'd do nothing."

Lucy sighed as Parvati tugged at the straps of her navy star-patterned tote bag, slung over her shoulder. "I can write my mum," offered Parvati. "She's on the school board. She should at least be able to bring it up to the other officers."

"I don't think that'll do much, either," said Oliver with a note of apology.

"Aurors do what they want, when they want," agreed Blaise. He cast a disgusted glance back toward the hallway they'd all emerged from. "Especially when they're decorated war heroes."

For a minute none of them said anything, because they all knew he was right. Elena shifted her weight from one foot to the other, further annoyed and bewildered. She didn't know how she'd never even thought about it before now, but decorated war heroes were worshipped. Obviously they'd been right to eliminate as many Death Eaters as possible—but that doesn't mean they're right about everything.

Michael was the first to draw in a breath and announce, "I'm going to the kitchens to soothe myself with chocolate." He grasped Oliver's arm and forcibly turned him, and they left for the appropriate downward staircase together, Oliver giving the rest of them a rueful wave.

Parvati sighed and glanced at Neville. "I don't think McGonagall has a class now. Do you want to drop DADA with me?"

Neville looked at Elena. "We're actually going to the library."

"I'll go with you if you go with me to see Flitwick," volunteered Lucy. She and Parvati bade them farewell and left together, too, to take an upward flight of steps.

When those two were out of earshot, having swapped to the appropriate swinging staircase, Blaise, Neville, and Elena looked around at each other. Elena was kind of curious as to why Blaise was so angry—not to mention why Neville had been struck so hard by Moody's psychosis—but she didn't bother asking. Neither of them were asking her why she'd inadvertently started the entire walkout.

"I'll see you in Potions," Blaise said to Elena, and he gave Neville barely a nod before he took off after Michael and Oliver, headed downstairs. Elena and Neville exchanged glances and moved to take the first set of upward stairs that would bring them to the library.

There weren't many other students wandering around for any free periods, the castle unusually quiet, and Elena and Neville reached the massive double-doors to the library with no problems. The library itself was enormous, with endless tall bookshelves, lacquered wood that gleamed in the low lamplight and dim daylight from the occasional arched window, and matching jumbles of thick wooden desks and cushioned chairs.

Elena and Neville followed the far wall back through the stacks, passing through patches of sunlight from the windows, to reach the entrance to the Restricted Section. It was cordoned off with a carved wooden railing, and the pair exchanged nonplussed glances before Elena walked up to try the low gate first. She pushed it open and stepped in.

When no alarms rang and the librarian didn't appear, Neville followed her. They turned to survey the shelves, darker and older than the others and further from those windows. "Here goes," Elena said to Neville, keeping her voice suitably low for the library, and she headed to the left to start with the bookshelves there. Neville took the opposite route.

Elena searched for any titles on the overflowing shelves that might have been remotely related. She briefly flicked through Herbalism and Magic, Moste Potente Potions, and Scottish Folklore, skimming their indexes and flipping through the pages, but she found nothing relevant. She was starting to think she might not find anything at all when she pulled down Archaic Magicks and flicked it open.

There seemed to be nothing of use listed in the index, but when Elena flipped back through the pages, something caught her eye. It was an old, in-depth drawing of an unfamiliar magical creature that to some extent resembled a man, but—it seemed to be some sort of plant, too, carved with leaves and patterned with what Elena recognized as yew bark. It was labeled The Green Man.

She continued through the pages for a minute, studying the strange sketches she found. At one point she paused on a dagger that seemed carved from moss agate, and when Elena read the description, all it said was Used to pierce the veil.

Elena felt the little hairs on the back of her neck rise, as if someone was watching her, and she quickly looked around. No one was in sight.

She slammed the book shut and studied the old spine. The letters had nearly worn off, but the author seemed to just be Anonymous. "What?" Elena whispered aloud, and she opened the front cover again to check. She found a note in one of the fragile early pages—

What follows is a compilation of the most legible notes found in the remains of the libraries of Craobhan Falaichte, a Caledonian village. The village burned in 573, when Myrddin Wyllt fled into the Forest and brought with him madness.

The bell rang overhead, and Elena jumped, startled. An instant later Neville appeared at the end of the aisle, empty-handed. "Oh!" he said as he saw Elena holding the book. "Did you find something?"

"Maybe," said Elena. She walked down to the end of the aisle to pass the book to him. "It's—weird."

She watched Neville skim through it for a minute. His brow furrowed. "This is weird," he agreed. He closed it and handed it back to Elena. "Are you going to check that out?"

"I guess so," said Elena. It seemed doubtful that Professor Moody would both track her borrowed books and see something strange in her borrowing this one. "You didn't find anything, did you?"

Neville shook his head. "All I found is none of these books seem to be from before the tenth century," he said, and he tugged at the strap of his messenger bag. "Except for that one."

Elena frowned. "Is that when Hogwarts was founded?"

At Neville's nod, she tried to think. What had been happening in Scotland back then? She was sure Lucy had mentioned something about the Scottish High Middle Ages before—maybe there had been multiple kingdoms? She could ask and pretend she was just curious, but Lucy would probably wonder why her question was so specific.

"We can look for books about Hogwarts' history and Scottish history," offered Neville.

Elena just glanced around the tall, imposing shelves, the faded tomes on them. The more questions she asked, the more she had. "Come on," said Neville, nudging Elena's arm. He turned toward the rest of the library and the wooden railing that separated them from it. "You have to check that out, and we both have to drop DADA."

As the ensuing period was lunch, after Elena checked the book out and stowed it in her tote bag, the pair walked down to the Great Hall. Neville broke off to approach Professor McGonagall while Elena approached Flitwick, trying not to feel as if every student at the tables was staring at her. It only took a minute to drop the class, and Flitwick noted the change in her timetable.

Elena turned and stepped down from the dais upon which the teachers' table was situated. She checked the Gryffindor table to see Harry sitting with Ron and Hermione. All three of them were a little subdued, but otherwise none seemed much worse for the wear. He can find me if he wants to talk about it, Elena thought somewhat stubbornly, and she walked down the Ravenclaw table to find Charlotte and Lucy. They appeared to be ignoring each other.

Merlin. Here we go, thought Elena. She steeled herself as she took her usual seat beside Lucy, who was flicking through a glossy copy of Teen Witch. "Hi."

Charlotte glanced up from the grilled chicken salad she'd been stabbing at. "What the hell was that in DADA? Why did you walk out?! He was just trying to help us!"

"By demonstrating traumatizing illegal curses?" remarked Lucy.

"We might have to know what they look like!" said Charlotte. She rounded toward Elena, her face already flushed with irritation. "I'm right!"

As Charlotte's voice was rising and Elena could see a few people glancing over in her peripheral vision, she opted to lift her hands. "Look," she said, ensuring her tone was as mild and defusing as possible. "We're just not interested in watching him curse spiders. You know how much I hate spiders."

Charlotte fidgeted with her fork. "Yeah, I—guess."

"So can we just agree to disagree here?" Elena asked, glancing from Charlotte to Lucy and back again.

There was a tense second of silence, punctuated only by a burst of laughter drifting over from the Slytherin table. Lucy rolled her eyes. "Fine."

Charlotte shrugged half-heartedly. "Whatever." She resumed eating her salad with less violence.

Relief swept through Elena. She withdrew her wand to tap her goblet, ensuring it filled with Guaraná, and Lucy turned more toward her. "Have you read this article?" she asked. She held up her magazine to show Elena a spread on one of the Holyhead Harpies' most famous Quidditch players. "What's she talking about here?"

The remainder of lunch passed without any open arguments, and Elena managed to get both Charlotte and Lucy into a neutral conversation by the time the bell rang. Charlotte left alone for one of her various electives, and the second she'd disappeared through the double-doors into the entrance hall, Lucy rounded on Elena. "You hated that lesson enough to walk out of it, which I've literally never seen you do."

Elena snorted as she gathered her bag. "Of course I did! The man's mad." The conviction with which she said it made Lucy give a startled laugh. "Charlotte's never been empathetic, and she hasn't known anyone who's been affected by those curses."

Lucy nodded, amusement already gone. "She was trying to tell me about how her grandfather was killed in the Wizarding War, but she met him once."

"I don't think that counts."

"She's convinced it does," said Lucy with a sigh.

Neither of them said anything further on the subject, because there wasn't more to be said. Both had long been subjected to the various irritating intricacies of Charlotte's competitive and argumentative personality. Elena was beyond grateful to have befriended Lucy during their first year—she couldn't have survived just being friends with Charlotte and Pansy.

Having Daphne Greengrass around might have helped. She'd been able to mitigate the occasional argument, but Charlotte and Pansy were both aggressive enough that not even Daphne and Elena's combined attempts at mediation would have been enough. Lucy's maturity and perspective had helped quite a bit over the years.

Elena bid goodbye to Lucy and left for French class, which she would have with Sarah Jalali. Although she'd never been good at foreign languages—she was never going to be able to pronounce that French r correctly—French was always, by far, her least stressful class, which would be a relief after that disaster of DADA. The atmosphere was always laidback, and as foreign languages weren't required after fourth year, the class was small.

She found her French class would be just the same this year. Elena sat with Sarah at a two-seater table in the middle of the wide classroom, and while a couple of their classmates sat on top of their desks—Professor Durand didn't care what they did as long as they participated—Sarah waterfall-braided Elena's hair and Elena doodled daisies all over her notebook page. It was easily the most fun Elena had had all week.

When the bell rang to end the period, Elena and Sarah strolled out of the room together. They followed the high-ceilinged hallways back toward the stairs at the center of the castle. "D'you think the homework policy will change this year?" Sarah asked as she dug through her flannel-patterned tote bag. She had olive-toned skin and deep black hair currently in a crown braid, a few wisps escaping. "Will he kick me out if I never do it?"

"Nah, he probably won't care," said Elena. She distinctly remembered a class the year before when none of them had done the homework, and rather than shout at the entire class, Professor Durand had laughed and had them do it out loud together.

"I hope not," said Sarah. "Our entire common room keeps insisting sixth year is the hardest." She came up with a stick of half-unwrapped pale green gum and, unbothered, finished unwrapping it and popped it in her mouth. She dropped the wrapper back into her bag and glanced up at Elena. "Not that I always believe everything I hear in the common room."

"They at least seem right about this," said Elena. "I'm up to my neck in homework."

Sarah snorted. "You're in the wrong classes," she informed Elena with a knowledgeable nod. She fiddled with her plaid crossover tie. "I have almost no homework."

"Are you taking any core classes?"

"Yep," said Sarah. "Charms, Divination, Muggle Studies, and Care of Magical Creatures. I'm taking the easy ones."

Elena supposed that made sense. She already knew Sarah planned to take over her father's shop in Diagon Alley—she intended to save her important and most relevant classes, such as Economics and Marketing, for seventh year, as that way she'd still remember the information she'd learned when she graduated. "That was a good plan," Elena remarked.

"I know," said Sarah with a laugh. She nudged Elena's arm. "You'll regret taking all your smart classes." I already do. "Oh! You said yesterday you had a life question." She glanced up and down the hallway—the only nearby students were some third years and a couple of harried seventh years. "What is it?"

Right—Elena had considered asking Sarah about Draco Malfoy the night before, but there had been too many people in the common room. She ensured none of the other students were within hearing distance before she said, lowering her voice a little anyway, "I may or may not have a crush on Draco Malfoy."

Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Uh. Why?"

"He's hot, funny, and decent at Potions and Herbology," Elena explained. She tugged at her blue-and-bronze ribbon tie. "He's in those two classes with me this year, and I saw him at an apothecary in Knockturn Alley before school started."

Sarah studied Elena in apparent consideration before looking forward again, in time for the pair to turn right onto another hall. There were more students, but with the name drop out of the way, Elena wasn't quite so worried about who might overhear them. "He's never been a dick to me specifically," said Sarah. "But he bullied everyone until second year and still traumatized people third year."

Elena had known as much, considering Neville's account. "But why are you wondering about whether or not you should have a crush on him?" Sarah asked. "Your brother? Who you have a crush on is none of his business."

"Right," said Elena, though considering Draco was Harry's archnemesis she kind of disagreed, "but Pansy dated him, and she had a crush on him since first year. It'd be like her going for—Michael Corner."

Sarah's eyes widened. Almost everyone knew about Elena's crush on Michael—probably including him, but he'd never seemed bothered. Most of the class had had a crush on him at some point, and he was kind of a flirt in general. "That's a big deal," said Sarah. "A definite breach of the Girl Code." She patted Elena's shoulder. "I'd say it's a no-go."

Elena had already come to the same conclusion. Ugh. She'd have to admire him from afar. "That's fair," she said to Sarah, and she changed the subject entirely.

They parted ways when they reached the stairs, and Elena walked up to her Astronomy lecture. I should have a crush on, like, Blaise, thought Elena. He was certainly handsome. Or Terry, even. He was at least a little sarcastic. Well, whatever. I'll figure it out later, I guess.

It was as if mentioning Michael and thinking about Terry called them—both were in Elena's Astronomy lecture. She waved at them in passing and asked Hannah Abbott, a sweet Hufflepuff, if she could sit beside her. "Go for it!" chirped Hannah, and as Elena took the seat and started to take out her Astronomy textbook, she tried to push the very much out-of-the-question Draco Malfoy from her mind. It helped that she had Moody, DADA, and the strange book in her bag to dwell on instead.