The reason Millie couldn't curse them, they decided, was because Millie didn't actually want to – only the horcrux did. That, combined with the fact Millie had taken an oath to not attack her fellow Shadows, was the most likely reason her magic hadn't been working. This was incredibly reassuring in that they were under no immediate danger from their friend, but incredibly alarming as it meant Millie might successfully murder any other students she came across.

"This is bad," Draco said, looking anxious. "We can't just levitate her out of here."

"Where would we even take her?" Theo snapped.

"Muggle church?" Harry suggested, wincing. "I dunno. This seems like the kind of thing it would have been useful to learn about in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Hermione bit at her lip, unhappy.

"We have to ask someone for help," she said. "This is beyond us. And I really don't want to come up with an exorcism ritual on the fly with Millie's life at stake."

"What are our options, then?" Luna asked, keeping calm. "As far as professors, there's the Heads of House—"

"Not McGonagall," Draco said immediately. "Not Flitwick."

"Sprout wouldn't even know what to do," Susan conceded.

"We could do Snape," Harry said grudgingly. "We could either make it out to be a coven mistake, or just the Slytherins could take her down."

"That'd be great," Draco said with a sigh, "if Snape weren't away from the castle this weekend."

There was a pause.

"He's gone?" Tracey said, paling. "Why?"

"He's helping my father with something," Draco said. "My mother mentioned it in a letter."

Hermione groaned. "Okay. Other options?"

"Vector and Babbling aren't likely to be much help," Theo said, ticking teachers off on his hands. "Trelawney and Burbage either. Hagrid is a hell no. That leaves—"

"Lockhart and Moody," Blaise said with despair. "We're doomed."

"Not doomed," Tracey said cynically. "Just going to be defamed in a new novel or locked up in Azkaban."

Hermione bit her lip.

"Here's what we know," she said. "The horcrux isn't hurting her – it's not going to hurt its host. The Heir of Slytherin was possessed repeatedly by Tom two years ago, and the only issue she had coming out of it was a guilt complex. Lockhart isn't likely to know anything in actual practice. Moody…"

She trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Moody would probably know what to do," she admitted quietly. "He was the expert called in to deal with the 'horcrux' that possessed Rhamnaceae. But that also means he'll recognize it as a horcrux."

They looked around at each other, uneasy. Millie laid on the floor between them all, unconscious.

"We can't tell Moody," Draco said. He was shaking slightly, but he looked determined. "We can't trust someone who can cast Unforgiveables so easily."

"We can't trust an Auror," Theo corrected, rolling his eyes at Draco. "For Millie's sake as much as our own."

"Snape does know how to check for possession," Tracey said reluctantly. "But if he's not here…"

"Then we'll have to wait for him," Blaise said grimly.

Hermione glanced around at them all, but everyone nodded, seemingly in accord. It wasn't a good idea, but it was the only idea they had.

"Someone get me a stick or something," she said. "There's no way this will go well with her having a working wand."

Harry obediently sprinted off, returning with a shard of a broomstick handle. Hermione withdrew her own wand and pointed at it, transfiguring it into an approximation of a wand.

"I'll keep Millie's for her," Tracey said, crouching down to pocket it. "I'll keep it safe."

The fake wand was put in Millie's hand, and they all surrounded her, wands out.

"I'll talk to the horcrux," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "No matter what I say, don't react – just stay still and on guard, alright? Or help fill in, once you see where I'm going with it." There were nods all around, and Hermione took a deep breath. "On three, then. One… two… three—Ennervate."

Millie's eyes flickered open, before they quickly narrowed at all the wands drawn.

"We know who you are, Voldemort," Hermione said quietly.

Millie's eyes flashed red.

"Here's the deal: we can't let you endanger our friend, and we can't let you give away who you are. But I believe we can come to an accord," Hermione said, inclining her head slightly. "I believe some of our goals may overlap."

"Oh?" Voldemort-Millie hissed. "Do share."

"We want your help in killing Dumbledore," Hermione said, holding the horcrux's eyes. "He'll never see it coming from a child."

The others didn't flinch, but it was a very near thing. Susan's eyes went wide behind tinted lenses, and Harry jerked slightly but didn't move. Voldemort-Millie looked incredulous, then highly suspicious.

"You want to murder Albus Dumbledore?" Voldemillie asked, in tones of incredulous delight. "Why?"

"Hogwarts has grown weak under his leadership," Draco said, stepping forward. He glanced at Hermione, and, at her nod, refocused on the horcrux. "He has grown into an old and doddering fool, afraid to teach his students about actual magic. Wizarding society is growing all the weaker because of it."

"We are prepared to offer a deal," Hermione told Voldemillie. "If you help us achieve our goal – that is, stay in our friend's body undercover until the time is right to strike, and then strike – we will help you get a body."

Voldemillie raised an eyebrow and laughed, a hissing sibilant sound.

"Am I to believe one of you would grow a fetus host for me?" he said. "Or you have found the bones of my father for a Dark Resurrection? You are children."

"We can create a simulacrum," Theo said. He didn't glance at Hermione, but she saw his hands clench as Voldemillie turned his gaze on him. "It's Dark magic, yes, but some of us are the children of your followers from your reign of terror – from before you fell. We know more than you'd think."

"I fell?" An odd, stark expression crossed Voldemillie's face. "I failed?"

"You did," Hermione said.

Voldemillie's eyes darted around. "What year is it?"

"1994," Hermione told the horcrux. "Voldemort fell in 1981."

Voldemillie seemed to absorb this.

"I will strike a bargain," he said abruptly. "I will not hurt your friend. I will attend classes undercover. I will not give up this body until you have grown me my own. And I will help you kill Dumbledore, but only on my own timeline." Defiance burned in his eyes. "I must learn how I was defeated so it does not happen again."

"Agreed," Hermione said calmly, while Harry fidgeted, trying not to draw attention to himself. She stepped forward, offering a hand, and, after regarding it with heavy suspicion, Voldemillie took it, leveraging Hermione to help stand up.

Millie looked different with Voldemort in her body. He stood up straighter, with more confidence. He pushed her black hair back impatiently, seemingly annoyed by it falling forward into his eyes, and her large, solid build suddenly seemed less like an awkward teenager and more like a Viking woman ready for battle.

"I will require help," Voldemillie commanded, looking at them all imperiously.

"One of us will be with you at all times," Hermione assured Voldemillie, nodding. "We'll help to cover up any faux pas or memory slips you might make."

Voldemillie nodded grandly.

"Then," he said, "judging from the rumbling in this body's belly, one of you may escort me to dinner."

"Allow me," Theo said, sweeping forward and offering Voldemillie his arm. "Right this way."

He led her out of the Room of Requirement, explaining where they were in the castle as he left, and the door closed a moment later, leaving the other Shadows still standing in a circle, staring at each other in silence.

"Well," Tracey said diplomatically. "That could have gone worse."

That broke the silence, and there were awkward giggles and sighs all around.

"We're fucked," Harry said, groaning and rubbing his eyes. "Absolutely fucked."

For once, despite his language, Hermione didn't disagree.

By the time they all got down to dinner, Voldemillie was behaving much more normally. All that seemed visually changed from Millie (besides the occasional flash of red in her eyes) was her posture and the fact she'd transfigured the tiara into a hairband she now wore on her head.

"You look different," Goyle remarked, looking at Millie strangely. "You—you put a thing on your hair…"

"My hair was falling in my eyes," Millie said.

"But—that never bothered you before," Goyle said, blinking.

Hermione watched in astonishment as Millie gave Goyle a mischievous, teasing grin.

"But if I didn't hold it back," she said, looking up at him sideways, "however would I get to see your handsome face?"

Tracey dropped her cup and stared, and Daphne held a hand to her mouth, looking horrified. Goyle, for his part, was turning steadily red.

"Oh," he said. "I. Uh. Thanks."

Tracey looked at Hermione in horror, tugging at her hair.

"Millie's asexual," Tracey groaned. "If Millie comes out of this with a boyfriend—"

"We'll handle it," Hermione said firmly. "It's fine. There are going to be some behavior changes that are unavoidable. She's a teenager. She's experimenting and acting out."

That was a very plausible line, and one the adults were likely to buy, but it was quite another thing to ask Daphne Greengrass, Millie's dormmate for years, to believe she was suddenly interested in Gregory Goyle. And as the meal went on, Millie flirting outrageously with Goyle and Crabbe both, Daphne's look of astonishment and disbelief grew and grew, Hermione wincing as it did.

To her credit, Daphne managed to hold her tongue until that evening, waiting until everyone had retired for the night and the dormitory door was firmly closed before whirling on them.

"What the hell is going on here?" Daphne demanded, her wand out.

"What are you talking about?" Tracey tried weakly, but Daphne wasn't having it.

"I know Millicent Bullstrode, and that is not Millicent Bullstrode," Daphne said firmly, her wand pointing at Millie. "Somebody better explain what's going on right now before I do something rash."

Hermione winced.

"We can't really tell you," she said apologetically. "It has to do with a secret club Millie's in, and there's a vow of secrecy—"

"I'll take the vow," Daphne said immediately. "I'll join the secret club too."

Even Pansy was taken aback.

"Daph, it's not—it's more than just a club," Pansy tried to explain. "It's more intense than that, and it—"

"Even you're in the club?" Daphne demanded, sounding betrayed. She whirled to glare at Hermione. "Am I the only one left out?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Technically, Crabbe and Goyle are left out too."

"Even the boys are in it?" Daphne stomped her foot, mad. "I can't believe this!"

"Daphne, it's okay," Tracey assured her. "It wasn't that we weren't going to ask you to join – it was just you were so busy planning the Gala, we thought we'd ask you around Halloween, after everyone had settled in a bit more. The initiation is painful and grueling, and we didn't want to mess you up."

"Oh," Daphne's anger deflated. "Well, that's alright, then. But I want to know what's wrong with Millie now." She glared around at all of them, defiant. "So I want to join now."

"It doesn't quite work that way," Hermione hedged, "but… um…"

"Do you remember our first year Defense teacher?" Pansy said conversationally.

Daphne looked at her sideways. "Quirrell? Of course."

"Well, you know how he had a little issue?" Pansy said pointedly.

Daphne's mouth fell open, her eyes darting to Millie. "You're not serious."

Millie smiled wickedly.

"I suppose you're in on the secret somewhat now," she said, eyes glinting red. "Be sure not to give the game away, okay?"

It was lucky they were already in their beds, Hermione thought, because Daphne collapsed backwards in a dead faint.

Sunday passed astonishingly normally. Voldemillie was content to do Millie's homework, working at a table with Blaise, Tracey, and Hermione, as was customary for Millie to do.

"I'm sorry, did they replace History with a fiction writing class?" Voldemillie scowled down at the assignment. "Am I literally supposed to just make something up?"

There was a tense pause as they all absorbed Voldemort being mad about his homework, before Blaise snickered, breaking the tension.

"Actually… yes," Tracey said, giggling. "That's exactly what you're supposed to do."

"We learned about historical Triwizard Tournaments," Hermione explained. "Based on what we learned in class, we're supposed to try and predict what one of the challenges for this one might be and explain our reasoning why."

Voldemillie's eyes flickered.

"So there's no need to be correct," he clarified, a wicked grin stretching over Millie's lips. "Just plausible."

"Correct," Hermione said, and Voldemillie dutifully dipped his quill and immediately began to write.

At dinner, it was apparent Snape still wasn't back yet, causing the Shadows to exchange heavy looks with each other, but no one said a word. That evening, Tracey and Daphne were trying to coax Voldemillie on how to remain undercover during classes, Hermione listening to their attempts while she scanned one of her books, looking for anything helpful she might find.

"Millie's a good student, but she generally doesn't participate much," Tracey said.

"It's not that she's shy," Daphne said hastily. "She just doesn't seem to think the effort's worth it, rather?"

"She just kind of absorbs it all in," Tracey said helpfully. "You know. Quietly."

While they talked to Voldemillie on Millie's bed, Pansy sauntered over and took a seat on Hermione's. Hermione raised her eyebrows at her over her book.

"Not going to help give advice?" she asked.

Pansy snorted. "I know a hopeless case when I see one."

They both listened in for a moment, Daphne and Tracey trying to guide Voldemillie on how she should wear her hair.

"First class tomorrow is Defense Against the Dark Arts," Pansy said, not looking at Hermione. "What are the odds we're going to get caught?"

"We? Slim to none," Hermione said firmly. "Millie, however…"

She watched as Voldemillie patiently explained how he point-blank refused to have hair hanging in his face, and how he was either going to continue using a hairband, or he was going to chop it all off.

"…probably approaching 1:1," Hermione admitted.

Pansy snickered.

"At least it'll be fun to see," she said. "Even if she tries to kill Moody."