Time passed and their world grew colder. Halloween passed and the castle remained calm. There were no monsters roaming the hallways and no mysterious threats written on the walls. Christmas came and went and one day, going into the new year, Lucy guiltily realised that she hadn't thought about her old family from back in America for weeks.
One day, not long before the next Quidditch match against Slytherin, the four Readers were spending the evening in their classroom. Lucy was actually reading a book about famous Seekers, trying to develop her repertoire of techniques. Henry was practising some fifth-year Charms, years ahead of time.
The show off.
John and Kyle, having realised that the first-year curriculum was just slowing Kyle down and that the professors were unlikely to approve of him studying the esoteric and potentially dangerous topics that he wanted to, were constructing a personalised study plan for him.
"It's the slow way of doing it," John said, his slightly disapproving tone breaking Lucy's attention from her book.
Not that I was enraptured by it anyway.
"What's that?" Lucy asked.
"Hmm?" John turned to her. "I was just telling Kyle that he's picking the slow way of learning Occlumency."
Lucy scrunched her face into distaste.
"I don't know… Occlumency always struck me as something that sneaky, suspicious people do."
"But I'm an Occlumens," John said. Lucy met his gaze passively and he rolled his eyes. "In any case, it's probably a useful skill to have considering what we get up to."
Lucy shrugged. "All my secrets are magically protected."
"You can never be too careful," John said seriously.
"No, I agree with Lucy," said Henry, joining them.
"Yeah!" Lucy cheered.
"Just learn enough to recognise someone's attempt to read your mind and call it quits," Henry continued.
"But if you don't know Occlumency, how can you eject them from your mind?" Kyle asked.
Henry turned to John. "Care to give them a demonstration?" he asked.
John made a face. "Not really."
"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud," Henry goaded him.
John sighed dramatically, but got to his feet. Lucy, intrigued, put her book aside and gave them her full attention, as did Kyle.
"Is this supposed to be a sneak attack?" John asked. Henry agreed and went to look out of the window, appearing to be totally relaxed. John waited a full minute, so that Henry would have no idea when to expect the attack, then pointed his wand and murmured a word.
Henry stiffened, spun around.
"Protego! Experlliarmus!"
John's wand leapt from his hand and Lucy almost jumped from her seat at the ferocity of the counter-attack.
"There you go," Henry said, passing John his wand back, "mental assault repulsed."
"Well, if you're going to be obvious about it," Kyle said. "But how about misleading a Legilimens to feed him the wrong information."
"Not worth the effort," Henry said, dismissively. "I'm not a double-agent. If someone wants to read my mind, I'll fight them, not trick them."
Kyle didn't look convinced and John's disagreement showed clearly on his face.
"What's the slow way?" Lucy asked, blatantly changing the subject.
"Oh, the slow way of learning Occlumency is to meditate until you can feel the edges of your own mind," John explained, "then strengthen the barrier that naturally exists there to resist attacks."
"And the fast way?"
"I'd batter Kyle's mind with Legilimency until he can see the holes in his defences as I break in and he learns to repair and strengthen it that way. It will be lots faster. You're welcome to that kind of training, too, Lucy."
"Uh, no, thanks." Lucy held up her hands defensively. "I don't want some boy rummaging around in my thoughts."
"I'm not some boy, I'm more than twenty years older than you."
"That just makes it worse."
"Even so—"
"John," Henry said seriously, "if she doesn't want to do it, don't pressure her. She doesn't need a reason to refuse."
"And neither do I," Kyle said.
John threw up his hands in defeat.
"Besides," Lucy said. "Who would want to read my mind?"
Lucy performed much better in her second Quidditch match. She was much more focused than in her first game and managed to interfere with many Slytherin plays and catch the Snitch from right in front of Malfoy. Ravenclaw had still struggled against the superior Nimbus 2001 the Slytherins were flying, but after observing the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, which was still marred by Dobby's rogue Bludger, Roger had carefully strategised how to combat the top-of-the-line brooms and the Ravenclaw Chasers had managed to keep the score mostly level before Lucy had beaten Malfoy after a short chase. Ravenclaw had pulled into second place in the school league and Roger was very grateful to Lucy. Indeed, Lucy was pretty pleased with herself. Unfortunately, showing up Malfoy had some unforeseen consequences.
"Look at the little girl, all by herself."
As normal, Lucy was walking to the Great Hall for breakfast alone, as her dormmates were still asleep at the early hour.
Did today wake themselves at the crack of dawn just to ambush me? Gregory still looks half-asleep!
Realising that she probably couldn't just ignore him and keep walking, Lucy said the first thing that came to mind.
"Unlike you, Draco, I don't need help navigating the castle."
Draco's eyes widened in shock, as if he hadn't expected her to be so flippant with him. Goyle was just mindlessly watching events, but Lucy took note of a cruel glint in Crabbe's eyes.
Heedless of that, Lucy continued. "Hey, how does it feel to be beaten by a little, Muggleborn girl?" She asked.
"I—"
"Oh, I get it. You are after hair care tips! It's okay to admit that I'm a prettier blonde than you, Drakey, but you should really ask Professor Lockhart for advice."
Draco spluttered. "Now, see here you—."
I don't care," she interrupted him. She gave them all a condescending look. "Later, losers."
She turned to leave.
Lucy hasn't actually been in a physical confrontation since elementary school, so when a pair of hands shoved her forwards, she was totally surprised and crashed into the floor.
Ow.
"Fuck," she murmured under her breath. She had thrown out her hands too late and hadn't stopped her face from colliding with the hard, stone floor.
She was momentarily disoriented and felt a sharp pain on her chin. Instinctively, she tried to scramble to her feet but failed when a foot pushed her down again. Rather than attempting to physically contend with the three bigger boys, Lucy rolled over and glared up at them.
Goyle had finally woken up, his eyes wide with astonishment. Malfoy seemed to be shocked at the actual sight of violence before him. Only then did Lucy notice the blood dripping down her chin and onto her chest.
Wow, Draco looks like he might faint!
Looking at him, Lucy decided that it was almost certainly Crabbe who had pushed her. She saw a hint of cruelty in the smirk he was wearing.
"What are you going to do now?" Lucy spat at them, the anger in her voice apparent despite herself. Even though she was in such a vulnerable position, she didn't find herself actually scared. She was certain that the three twelve-year-olds were incapable of serious violence. They probably knew some unpleasant jinxes between them, or at least Malfoy did, but she was confident enough in her skill with the General Counter-charm to be able to undo anything they might inflict on her.
She briefly considered screaming at the top of her lungs, which would probably get the three of them to run or someone else to arrive, but decided against it.
Let's keep that tactic as a last resort.
"Seriously, what now?" Lucy asked again. "I didn't burst into tears when you pushed me. What are you going to do now?"
None of the three Slytherins had an answer to that. Lucy continued to stare at them challengingly. Her chin was really starting to hurt now and her knees and the palms of her hands smarted pretty badly too. Lucy did her best to ignore the blood that was continuing to drip onto her robes.
Malfoy's brain finally kicked back into gear. "You need to respect your betters, you filthy little Mudblood," he said.
"Yeah," agreed Goyle.
You tell 'em, Greg.
Affronted, Lucy opened her mouth to lay into the three of them with the filthiest, most disturbing, imaginative litany of profanity that anyone would hear for the next twenty years. But before she could decide whose mother to insult first, the boys saw something behind her and ran.
"Bitches," she muttered under her breath. Wincing, she struggled to her feet and turned to face her saviour.
"Oh, hi… Nick, right?" Lucy said carefully. The ghost was looking at her concernedly, but the undead inhabitants of the castle still unnerved her.
"Actually, I prefer Sir Nicholas—"
"De Mimsy-Porpington, yeah," Lucy interrupted him. "Thanks, I guess."
"You're welcome, my dear," he replied a little haughtily. "Are you okay?"
Lucy looked down at herself, her clothes in disarray, hands and knees grazed, and blood dripping down her chin. "I guess not."
"Would you like me to accompany you to the Hospital Wing?"
"Yes, please," Lucy said, more sincerely.
They passed a few students along the way, including an older student who helpfully conjured a fistful of tissues for Lucy to press against her chin, so she wouldn't have to leave a trail of blood through the school. Soon enough, they reached the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey had Lucy seated on a bed and fixed up lickety-split.
"So, what happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked when her ministrations were finished.
"Some Slytherins in my year pushed me."
Pomfrey frowned. "Who?"
"Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle," she said without hesitation. "I think it was Vincent who pushed me, but I can't be sure." Madam Pomfrey looked somewhat surprised, her eyebrows raised. "What?" Lucy asked.
"Nothing," Pomfrey replied. "It's just that teenagers are rarely so forthcoming about such things."
"Why wouldn't I tell anyone?" Lucy asked.
"Miss Williamson," Madam Pomfrey said seriously. "I heal teenagers; I don't understand them."
Lucy nodded in agreement. Madam Pomfrey went to summon Professors Flitwick and Snape and to arrange clean robes and breakfast for Lucy.
"Look, you can ask Pansy," Malfoy said hotly. "She'll swear that we were with her all morning."
Flitwick had a severe expression. Snape was entirely expressionless. Malfoy was indignant and Crabbe and Goyle looked to be somewhere between nervous and gormless. Lucy bit into her sandwich.
"It sounds like a 'he said, she said' situation," Snape said to his colleague. Flitwick's frown deepened.
"We could ask Sir Nicholas to identify them," Lucy suggested. The boys struggled to hide their nervousness at the suggestion.
"The ghosts are often disconnected from the year on year changes in the mortal world," Snape said slowly. "It would be difficult to trust their powers of identification."
Lucy looked at Flitwick, who seemed unhappy, but didn't disagree.
I don't really care about the outcome here. I've already shown that I refuse to be bullied by them. Even so… oh, that might work…
"Professors, what's a Mudblood?"
You could have heard a pindrop in the silence that followed her question.
"Detention," Snape barked. Lucy whirled her head towards him, ready to angrily protest, but she noticed that he was looking at his three students. "My office," he said. "After dinner."
The boys sulked away after that, trying to avoid further punishment. Flitwick watched them go, as if he wanted to give them detention himself, but he managed to restrain himself. What followed was an extremely kind and gentle introduction to Wizarding prejudices from Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey before she was sent off to her first lesson.
The reaction from her peers was much stronger than she had expected. Her classmates spent the whole day treating her with kid gloves. Even the professors were giving her concerned looks. Roger immediately approached her as she entered the common room after lunch, asking for volunteer bodyguards to escort her through the school. Surprisingly, a number of people stepped up to help.
Lucy had managed to convince Cho to return to the Common Room alone. She had gone to spend time with John, Henry, and Kyle, but only after Cho made Henry promise to escort her back later.
"These two saved me from the troll, remember?" she reminded her. Henry, for his part, took Cho's request very seriously. Lucy suddenly realised that he shared classes with Cho as they were in the same year.
"Quite a bit of excitement, huh? Lucy?" Henry said to her when Cho had left.
"Over-excitement. I'm more than ready for the next happening to steal everyone's attention away."
"Want me to get them?" Kyle offered, twirling his wand.
"Get them?" Lucy asked.
"I've been practising a few of the more interesting jinxes. I'm sure that I can get them alone and then..."
"No!" Lucy cut him off. "I don't want revenge. They're preteens, not Death Eaters. Detention is what they deserve and is what they are getting."
"If you can trust Snape to give them a real punishment..." Kyle muttered darkly.
"He's got them scrubbing cauldrons, for what it's worth," John said. "Parkinson was complaining about it in the common room as I left."
"Besides, a split chin is no problem for Madame Pomfrey. A quick Charm and a dab of Murtlap Essence, and it hasn't even left a..."
"A scar?" Henry suggested.
Lucy said into the middle distance, "Murtlap Essence... of course! Now it all makes sense!"
"What is it?" Kyle asked.
Lucy shushed him. "Let me write this down. It's important."
"What is it?" John asked seriously, walking over to see what she was writing. Lucy quickly snatched the parchment to her chest.
"It's not You Know Who-related," she assured them. "I promised to keep it a secret."
"Oh, that's okay then, sweetheart," Henry said amiably, but John and Kyle both seemed upset that Lucy wouldn't share.
Soon enough, they left to go back to their various common rooms. Lucy had to promise Kyle that she would be fine, before he relented from accompanying them. Even then, Lucy had to remind him that his Common Room was in the other direction.
Once they had put some distance between themselves and the others, Henry spoke up. "He has a bit of a crush on you, I think."
Lucy said nothing for several moments, then sighed. She paused, then sighed again more heavily.
"Yeah, maybe," she admitted. "I mean, I get it. We're the two people closest in age and situation we each know, but I want to put relationship drama behind me until I'm, you know… older."
"That's very wise," Henry agreed. "Do you want me to have a word with him?"
Lucy considered it for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah, I'll think of something. Will he get over it?"
"He's a nineteen-year-old kid. He's had plenty of crushes he's gotten over already," Henry assured her.
Soon enough, Henry returned her to the Ravenclaw Common Room. He even effortlessly solved the knocker's riddle for her, and Lucy was too grateful to be indignant.
Nervously, sheepishly, Lucy slid the parchment across the desk to the professor. With an easy smile, Lockhart took the page and studied it politely. His smile grew as he read.
"Shame on me," he said, "for starting to believe my faith in you was misplaced."
Lucy blushed. "It's ingenious," she said. "Murtlap essence…"
Lockhart turned his smile to her. "Oh, Miss Williamson. Flattery will get you everywhere."
He looked her up and down. From most men, Lucy would have found the act lecherous, but there was something clinical in the way that Lockhart did it, like a master painter examining a fellow artist's work, that made it okay with her. "I can see that you make an effort with yourself," he said.
Lucy beamed. "I like being pretty," she said. Lucy wasn't vain, she liked to think, but she couldn't pretend that she didn't enjoy the compliments from girls and the looks from boys. She even found a reverse pleasure in the catty comments that jealous girls made.
Lockhart shook his head. "Being pretty is for children," he said. "You must strive to be beautiful."
Lucy nodded fervently, while Lockhart was pulling defence-related books from the bookcase behind him. Lucy watched curiously as he removed the wooden panel behind the books.
A secret compartment?
He withdrew two books from the hidden space and placed them in front of Lucy. One, she recognised.
"I've actually already read 25 Charms for Being Charming," she told him.
"Oh, and what did you think?"
"Not much, to be honest. It was a little… dumbed down, as if the target audience was a bunch of giggling pre-teens."
"I quite agree," Lockhart said. "Which is why I'm lending you my personal, annotated copy."
Lucy's breath caught in her throat.
"I don't know what to say… Thank you, really. And this one?" she gestured to the other book.
"These are the personal research notes of a talented and creative witch who made a serious study of the potions and spells of our focus. I, uh, persuaded her to pass them on to me. Please study them both, but keep them hidden from others and return them to me later. Oh, don't take on so, dear. There's no need to be so upset. I think you have it in you to be a real shaker in the cosmetics world and I have a duty to guide your first steps."
Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak and not correcting him as to the cause of her consternation.
I mean, I knew he was a criminal, and perhaps something should be done about it if he survives the year with his memories intact, but to just be handed his ill-gotten gains from assaulting some poor, innocent woman…
Lucy realised that she should say something.
"I'm, uh, not the best with Charms, actually."
"Can I tell you a secret?" Lockhart asked rhetorically. "Neither am I?"
"No, really?" Lucy said flatly.
"No, it's true! But shall I tell you how I overcame this small failing?"
Lucy nodded, genuinely curious.
"I find that sufficient passion is a good substitute for magical finesse. And believe me, I am very passionate about this kind of thing."
Lucy struggled to keep the unhappy expression off her face as she contemplated the book in front of her.
I suppose there's no harm in taking it right now. Heck, I might be able to work out who originally wrote it and return it to her.
"Thank you," she said in a quiet voice.
"You're welcome," Lockhart said. "Now, there is a small favour I require in return for my tutorship."
"Oh?" Lucy asked cautiously.
"I need your help answering this fan mail."
One sunny, but cold day, at the conclusion at what had been mostly unproductive Charms lesson on the Freezing Charm, Flitwick dropped what was apparently a huge drama on the second-year Ravenclaws.
"Here are your forms for choosing your electives for next year," Flitwick told them as he magicked the sheets of parchment to fly to each of them. This set off a wave of excited and anxious muttering. "Just make sure to hand them in by the end of the week," he squeaked.
The Ravenclaws were talking with a rare excitement as they left the classroom.
"There's only one combination that makes sense, really."
"I'm not ready to make this kind of decision."
"I've known what subjects I'll take since I was eight."
"Maybe I'll ask Flitwick if I can take all of them."
Lucy listened with half an ear, considering her own form tucked away in her Charms textbook. She had definitely decided that she was only taking two more subjects and she knew that one of them was going to be Care of Magical Creatures, but that still left her with one decision to make.
"Well, I assume that you don't intend to take Muggle Studies," John said to her later that evening.
"That's right," Lucy confirmed.
"And I hope you don't intend to take Divination, especially seeing as how that many things that really were supposed to happen have already not happened."
I think I understood that.
"Then why are you taking Divination?" Kyle asked him.
"I took it as part of a plot to expose Pettigrew," John said. "I'm not continuing it after OWLs."
"Well, that means that you have a choice between Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, Lucy," Henry chimed in. "Are you better at maths or at foreign languages?"
"Ehh…" Lucy shrugged. "I'm probably the least bad at languages… Maybe I should take Muggle Studies."
"Take Creatures and Runes," John told her unsympathetically. "Some people swear it helps them with their spellcasting."
Lucy grumbled, but filled out her form.
"You know it'll be cold going outside for Creatures during the winter, right?" Henry asked her.
"Unicorns," she said, as if that explained everything.
"Yes, but—"
"Hippogriffs," she interrupted him.
"You really are a teenager," he said.
She gave him a withering look.
"Exactly!" he said, pointing at her expression.
Despite the fact that capable and confident students would frequently ignore the rule, technically, students were not allowed to brew potions outside of class without a professor's permission. Normally, it would be Professor Snape's permission, due to his position, though he was famously unwilling to permit it. However, technically, any professor could give it. Which made Lucy feel much less guilty about her current activity.
"Now, carefully add the Dusk Moth Wings," Professor Lockhart instructed.
Lucy picked up the delicate wings with a pair of tweezers and slowly lowered them into the shimmering potion. One, two, and then three pairs of wings were added before Lucy leaned back and gave a sigh of relief. She gave a tired smile to Professor Lockhart as he inspected the cauldron's contents.
"Very well done, Williamson," he said. "Now, remember not to mention this to your redoubtable Potions Master. He wouldn't approve of using such volatile ingredients for this type of potion. In fact, I don't think he approves of cosmetic potions at all! But we both know how important clear skin is, don't we?"
Lucy agreed enthusiastically. "The next few years will certainly be a battle for me, Professor. Acne, growth spurts, hormones..."
"Stop!" Lockhart cried, holding up a hand to his mouth, looking quite nauseous. "Going through it once was quite enough, thank you."
Lucky you.
"I don't need any unpleasant reminders."
After a few minutes of decanting the potion into a dozen vials, they were done. Professor Lockhart pushed them all into Lucy's arms. "A parting gift," he said, in response to her questioning look.
"You're leaving?" she asked. She had known that he wouldn't stay, couldn't stay, but she was upset about it nonetheless.
Lockhart reached into his desk and smoothly pulled out a newspaper clipping.
Spanish? No, Portuguese. Something about the rainforest?
"This is from the magical Brazilian news," Lockhart explained. "There has been a sighting of a Golden Demiguise in the depths of the Amazon rainforest. Long thought to be a creature of myth, it is supposed to have fur unrivalled in quality.
"More research for hair care potions?" Lucy asked.
Lockhart nodded. "This may well be the final piece of the puzzle for my… my magnum opus."
"But aren't Demiguises… You know…"
"Invisible? I know it won't be an easy task. But I've invested most of my savings into hiring the best trackers, beast experts, and magizoologists. I'll find it."
Lucy hummed non-committedly.
At least he's not going into this alone.
"I guess I should return these to you, then." Lucy reached into her book bag and withdrew the two books he had lent her. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't identify the original author of the book that Lockhart had clearly stolen. It was obvious that parts of the text had been magically erased in order to hide who the original author had been, but the Charms to undo that concealment were beyond her. She was sure that John, Henry, or even Kyle, by this point, could have helped her, but she had held back from asking them.
That she had promised to keep the book secret was a rationalisation, she knew. Really, she just didn't want to see Lockhart get into trouble. Even though he was a criminal, an incompetent, and a shameless braggart, she had actually grown quite fond of him.
And he has sort of taken me under his wing as a sort of apprentice, and when it comes to cosmetic magics, he knows his stuff. I certainly feel more ready to face the awkward upcoming teenage years after his tutorship.
Lucy struggled with her conscience while Lockhart blathered on about something or other.
And, hey! I deserve this! So what if he's a scumbag and I know it? I'm helping to fight against Voldemort. I saved Hermione's life! If I want to let one minor criminal off, I'm allowed to!
The argument didn't silence her conscience, which was angrily protesting, but Lucy guilty crushed it.
"Maybe fate will have our paths cross again," Lockhart said, smiling.
"At this point, I have no idea what's going to happen in the future," Lucy said with a distant expression.
Lucy kept her excitement off her face as she stared down her opponent. She took a quick glance at what he had arrayed against her and made a careful calculation.
"Call," she said, throwing a handful of chips into the middle of the table. John raised his eyebrows and revealed his cards.
"Two pair," he said.
Lucy couldn't keep the happy squeak from escaping her. "I've got a flush! That means I win!"
Henry and Kyle, who had already folded out of the hand, applauded politely.
"Uh, Lucy…" John said, "that's a diamond, not a heart. You've only got a pair of sixes."
Lucy froze. "I… You… You must have Transfigured it when I wasn't looking!"
She snatched the card up and whipped her wand out of her pocket. Luckily, reversing transfigurations was something that McGonagall spent a lot of time covering and Lucy was sure that she could undo what John had obviously done, but after a dozen failed attempts, she threw the stubborn diamond back on the table.
"...Anyway," Henry stretched the word out, before turning to John, "feeling more confident?"
John was the reason for them to be even playing poker. He had recently told them that his study of Legilimency had progressed to the point where he could skim someone's surface thoughts without a wand. A witch or wizard might notice, but a Muggle wouldn't be able to tell.
John hesitated, then nodded. "Operation Make Money by Cheating at Poker is a go."
"We need to work on our operation names," Lucy said.
"I feel much better about stealing money from professional gamblers than from unsuspecting jewellers at least."
"I don't think you should care so much about taking money from those involved in the blood trade of diamonds anyway," Lucy said.
The steam engine gave an enthusiastic final whistle and the students she was carrying gave an equally enthusiastic cheer in response. That was a screech of brakes and the Hogwarts Express came to a stop at Platform 9 and ¾. The train and platform were quickly filled with activity as students, luggage, and pets spilled out of the carriages.
Lucy gave a sad sigh as she made her last few steps through the Wizarding World for the next several weeks. She tried to drink in as much of the atmosphere as she could. She watched the students sharing farewells, the adult wizards and witches milling around, the bored-looking man selling newspapers, the big, shaggy dog waiting in the shadows behind him.
Wait…
Lucy turned on the spot, marching off, causing her three friends to stop and call out after her, but she ignored them.
"Hello there," Lucy said to the dog, reaching out a hand to pet him.
The dog growled menacingly, but Lucy ignored the threat and scratched him between the ears.
"You're not a bad dog, are you?" Lucy said. The dog had stopped growling and relented to let her scratch. "You wouldn't hurt little old me, would you?"
The dog examined her curiously for a moment, before his gaze snapped to something behind her. Lucy turned and saw Harry, next to Ron and his family, being fussed over by Mrs Weasley. The dog whimpered softly.
"You know… Harry is really good with dogs," Lucy said quietly, switching to brush the big dog's fluffy coat. "He gets along with Hagrid's dog, at least. If you went up to him—"
The dog whimpered again, more loudly, pulled away from her. Lucy could see the fear and pain in his eyes. Lucy hesitated for a moment.
"You both deserve happiness—" she began, but she felt a hand on her arm.
"Leave that thing alone, Lucy. You don't know where it's been," John said. "We are on a schedule," he reminded her.
Lucy struggled with herself for a moment, before sighing. "Fine. Good dog," she said, before stepping away. The dog barked and when Lucy looked back, he bumped his nose into her hand. She smiled at that and left with John to rejoin their friends. The dog stayed in the shadows at the platform until most of the occupants had left.
Dumbledore continued to frown as he watched the four Muggleborn friends leave through the portal to the Muggle Kings Cross Station. It had been many years since he had travelled with the students to London, and he had never done so while invisible in order to spy on some of them.
Dumbledore was ultimately responsible for a large number of students, but most of the day to day issues that arose were dealt with by his experienced and capable teaching staff. The amount of time that he spent thinking about the average, individual student every year was very low.
This group, however, he had been growing increasingly suspicious of for a long time.
They had managed to find themselves involved with both the incident with the troll and Riddle's Horcrux and Dumbledore wasn't sure that John's visions of shapeshifting rats were due to a latent seer ability at all. Not to mention that they were serious, successful, students. Far more mature than any in their respective cohorts.
And then Mr. Owens had just walked up to him and handed him Riddle's Horcrux! Not that Dumbledore had known what it was at first, but he noticed the subtle attempt the Diary had made to probe his soul while he investigated it. Dumbledore had had to make sure that Mr. Owens hadn't been made a victim of Voldemort and had peered into his mind. He had found no trace of possession, but he had sensed that the boy had some skill with Occlumency that he was deliberately holding back. Dumbledore had then made the very reluctant decision to investigate the rest of that group. The three boys all had some varying skill with Occlumency and he didn't try to breach their protections. The girl, on the other hand, had no skill at all and was such a naturally unprivate person that legilimising her was hardly an effort. What he found concerned him even more. Not only did he discover that she had stolen the Diary from Ginny Weasley, so far as he could see, she didn't even know what it was or why it was important. But then why would she take it and arrange for it to reach him?
As he looked further, so that she had massive gaps in her knowledge, but she also could make massive leaps of logic to reach the correct conclusions.
She was absolutely certain that Gilderoy was a fraud, and while she was still full of admiration for him, she had no idea how he had fooled people. She was certain that Voldemort was still alive, despite knowing very little about him. And just now she had immediately seen and recognised Sirius.
As he looked further, he was extremely worried, but not by that point surprised, to discover that she and her friends were responsible for the attack on Riddle's father's grave, though for seemingly no purpose.
Other facts from his investigations flashed through his mind. None of the four ever received letters from family. They had long conversations where nothing was said. Lucy played carefully composed music from a variety of genres that he was sure no one had ever heard before. They all wrote clear and concise essays with an advanced vocabulary. Dumbledore had a sneaking suspicion that the conclusion he should be making from these facts was staring him in the face, but that there was a magical effect preventing him from comprehending it. But for all his efforts, he could detect nothing, not even the subtle signs of the Fidelius Charm. Yes, Dumbledore was very concerned indeed.
And yet…
They definitely had aligned themselves against Voldemort and had a reputation among the staff and students as kind and good-hearted. Dumbledore's concern and curiosity burned inside him to investigate further or even confront them directly, yet he hesitated. He had so many other responsibilities, and had already set aside so much time this summer in order to investigate Riddle's past.
Dumbledore frowned. So much to do and so little time. He once again criticised himself for being so untrusting. Yes, he did trust people's intentions, but he could rarely find it in himself to trust their competency, not enough to offload some of his many important responsibilities, like that of the Chief Warlock's position or the office of the Supreme Mugwump.
Dumbledore shook his head. He had let himself be distracted. He decided that he would leave the four Muggleborns be for now. Besides, their inability to use magic for the summer mostly removed their capacity to cause—
Dumbledore managed to catch himself. He was far too experienced a wizard to complete that thought, that would just be asking for trouble.
AN: I told you that updates would be slow.
I read all the reviews!