Abraxas drank his cup of tea with relish. He loved Wednesday mornings because it was the only day of the week when he had the first block of lessons free. He could sleep in and really enjoy breakfast. Taking his time to wake up without having to scarf down something to eat in a hurry. It was also pleasantly empty, as most of the other students had one subject or another.

His gaze travelled along the table and lingered on Orion, who was sitting motionless in his seat, just staring at his food. As usual, most of the Slytherin students had already disappeared again after breakfast. No one liked to stay in the Great Hall longer than necessary, as most of his house mates didn't appreciate the publicity and crowds. Orion, too, usually disappeared back into the common room with his classmates. So why was he still sitting here today?

With a smile, Abraxas picked up his cup, stood up, and walked over to the younger Slytherin, then sat down across from him without being asked. He didn't even look at him, as if he didn't notice that someone sat down in front oh him.

"Orion, my good friend," he greeted him quietly, "Why are you showing your grief so openly here?"

The young Black finally came to life. He stared at him wide-eyed, as if he had only just realised his presence. "Abraxas. I'm sorry, did I disturb you? I didn't mean to..."

Abraxas immediately waved him off. "No, not at all. I'm just worried. It's not like you to sit here in the Great Hall, of all places, looking so unhappy."

A blush appeared on Orion's cheeks. "Ah, I'm not doing our house any honour again, am I? I'm sorry about that."

Shaking his head, Abraxas leaned forward. "Stop apologising all the time. You haven't done anything wrong. Instead, tell me if I can be of any help."

Unsure, Orion's gaze flickered to him and then immediately back to his hands, which he buried in his lap. He shook his head. "It's too absurd to talk about. It's not appropriate."

"Orion," Abraxas said firmly. "Nothing is absurd. And since when does a Black care what's convenient?"

For a moment, he feared that Orion would brush him off again, but then his shoulders slumped and he finally seemed to give in. With a look more befitting a Hufflepuff, he began to complain to him. Abraxas couldn't help him, but at least he could listen. He knew he would probably spend the next hour here, but if it meant helping a younger Slytherin student, he was happy to do so.

oOoOoOo

Tom flicked back and forth through the two books impatiently. Nott had been right, there were indeed discrepancies between what the textbook they were using for class said and what the standard reference book in the school library said. How could two runes be interpreted and used in such different ways?

Nott was sitting next to him in the library with his textbook open in front of him. Tom was surprised that this taciturn student had approached him with the problem at all. Nott never approached anyone on his own initiative. But now that he understood the problem, he could understand his actions. Before he went to a professor and asked questions, he wanted to make sure he didn't overlook anything.

"What you've described is consistent with my first superficial examination," Tom finally admitted, leaning back in his chair.

Nott also looked up from his book. "That reassures me. I doubted myself for a moment. We never used that particular rune in class, so I was afraid I'd just misunderstood something."

Tom tapped his lips thoughtfully. He had only a limited interest in Ancient Runes, but this riddle piqued his ambition. There had to be an answer. Determined, he closed both books and then opened them to the first page, where there were details of the authors and editors.

"This book," he explained, pointing to a line in the text, "was first published in 1778. There have been five major revisions since then, the last in the early twenties."

Nott immediately leant forward and read what was written in the other book. "Our textbook is from 1837 and was last updated ten years ago."

Tom let his eyes wander over the empty desks without really noticing what he was seeing. Perhaps the meaning of the rune had simply changed in recent years and the book Nott had found was no longer up to date?

"Are there any other books on these particular runes here in the library?" he enquired.

Nott just shook his head. "Not that I know of. I've searched the shelves for books on Ancient Runes, but unfortunately we don't have that many works in this library."

Tom looked at the books lying on the table in front of him with a neutral expression. He was very reluctant to ask a professor for advice. Even if Nott was the only witness, he was not prepared to admit defeat just yet. When Peter had approached him about the problem, he had offered his help because he was sure he had a solution. He could easily have noticed a misunderstanding or carelessness and then pointed it out.

Should he believe Nott's words that no other book in the library could help? Perhaps it would be better if he had a look for himself. They were the only two students here, as everyone else was either in class or enjoying their morning off elsewhere. No one would see that he was perplexedly searching the shelf.

"How did you come across this rune in the first place?" he asked Nott again. Perhaps he could get to the bottom of the matter and find an answer himself.

Peter hesitated for a moment. Tom raised an eyebrow impatiently. He didn't understand what was so difficult about his question that the other man couldn't answer it immediately.

"I just leafed through our textbook in its entirety," Nott finally explained without looking at him. Instead, he reached for the book in question and opened it as if to demonstrate how he had leafed through it. "And I noticed a few runes in the back here in the list of all runes that we haven't covered yet. This particular rune seemed more complex than the others, so I wanted to read up on it."

Sceptical, Tom crossed his arms in front of his chest. He couldn't help it, something about the whole situation suddenly seemed wrong to him. He had the feeling that he didn't understand something properly and he hated that feeling. It was as if Peter Nott was telling him something and meant something completely different.

His eyes wandered to the magical wall clock that always showed all the students in the library when the next block of lessons would start. He had wasted an hour having Nott show him the books and reading all about this rune. He had left his schoolbag in his room, as he hadn't expected to have to spend so long on this one question. If he didn't want to be late for his first block of the day, he should have been on his way to the dungeons by now.

Nott now raised his eyes again and was looking straight at him. The otherwise disinterested-looking young man suddenly had an attitude as if he was waiting for something. As if he was really curious. Tom's suspicion grew.

He resolutely closed the books and stood up. "We're wasting our time here. Come on, let's go and ask Professor Selwyn ourselves. Don't you think that's the only way we can get an answer to the question?"

He looked at Nott, but he didn't move from his chair. Instead, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at him challengingly. "You don't have a solution to this riddle?"

Tom struggled to remain outwardly calm and composed. He could still point out his inappropriate behaviour to Nott later. Here in the library, with a librarian sitting just a few rows of shelves away, he would not reach for his wand. Instead, he pulled out his head boy smile and replied, "We don't have much time left before the next block starts. So, if we want to answer your question, we should use the quickest means possible. Even I can't know everything."

Suddenly Peter grinned broadly at him. Tom couldn't remember ever having seen this man grin so openly before. The anger that he struggled to control before was boiling up inside him. "What's so funny?"

Nott shook his head as he rose comfortably from his chair. "I'm not laughing at you, if that's what you think. I would never laugh at you, Tom. I just found it amusing how true your words are. Not much time left. That's a very good description."

Tom's fingers twitched. He couldn't reach for his wand, not here. He couldn't afford to be conspicuous in the presence of the teaching staff. He took a deep breath. He would punish Nott for this later. Perhaps he hadn't made it clear enough over the last few weeks that he was the undisputed leader in their little group of conspirators. Perhaps it was time Nott had the mark branded on him as well, to make his lowly status clear to him.

Only Rufus, Abraxas, and Hermione wore it so far.

Tom's breath caught in his throat. Out of nowhere, an icy chill came over him. As if a hand was wrapped around his neck and squeezed. Without caring about how he came across, he looked at Nott. Had the other Slytherin hexed him without him realising it? His whole body suddenly felt heavy and cold. As if a curse was on him.

"What have you done?" His voice trembled. Stunned at himself, Tom ran a hand over his face. His voice never trembled. He never let on that anything moved him.

Nott's grin turned into an honest smile. "I didn't do anything. I was just helping someone who was worried about you."

With his left hand, Tom propped himself up on the long reading table. He understood nothing of what Nott was telling him. All he could perceive was this coldness and the feeling of confinement. Nott said he didn't do anything, but that couldn't be true. He had to have hexed him.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. No. It was impossible that Peter had hexed him. He would have noticed. If he hadn't seen the wand move, he would at least have felt the magic that inevitably had to touch him when a spell was cast against him. His physical reaction was not due to a curse.

"Who did you help?" he pressed out with difficulty. He was still clutching the edge of the table with one hand.

"Well," Nott said in a drawn-out voice, "in theory I'm helping you too, Tom. We all believe in you. We know what you're capable of. But you've lost your focus. It can happen, we're all just men. That's exactly why we thought you needed our help."

And suddenly he understood. His whole body froze as he realised what his subconscious had obviously already known.

Hermione was in danger.

His eyes wandered to the magic clock again. The break was almost over. Hermione should have been on her way from Alchemy to Care of Magical Creatures. But Tom suspected, no, he knew, that she was probably somewhere else entirely.

He finally understood why his body felt so strange. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, he hadn't felt it for so long.

He was afraid.

"Where is she?" he demanded to know.

Nott just shrugged his shoulders. "I can't tell you that. I wasn't privy to that part of the plan."

Not caring that the librarian was sitting just a few rows of shelves away, Tom pulled out his wand and held it between Peter's eyes. "Where is she?" he repeated his question.

Again, his opponent just shrugged his shoulders. "We're not stupid, Tom. If I had that information, you could torture it out of me. That's why I don't have it."

For a few seconds, Tom just stared at him, his knuckles white with strain as he gripped the wand tightly. Then he lowered his arm and nodded. Of course, he wouldn't have done it any other way. Only those who absolutely had to be in the loop were given relevant information. He had always practised it that way himself.

"There will be consequences, Nott. You can count on it," he spat, then turned and walked out of the library with long strides.

"I know, Tom! I know!" Peter called after him. He sounded resigned, but not intimidated.

Taking two steps at a time, Tom hurried down the stairs. They had played their game and now their opponents had reacted with an unexpected move. He wasn't prepared for it. He would not allow anyone to surprise him again.

No matter the cost.