Chapter II

The Raven Knight

I LOOKED UP from my toast as I spotted Noire making her way from the rafters of the Great Hall with a letter. She was as beautiful as she was regal. 'Just like you,' mother had said when she gave her to me.

"Got a secret lover, Cissy?"

"Of course, Cara, if they were not a secret then I would have told you about them."

"Well, you better spill, then."

I winked at her.

"Right after you tell me about yours, Miss Rosier," I said in a whisper as I stretched in front of her and reached for some bacon.

I grinned at her look of shock and moved my plate to make space for my owl. My suspicions were right. Black: plus one.

I gave Noire some bird feed I stole from Cara, untied the letter and cracked the black wax.

Dear Narcissa,

I fear that your suspicion has been correct. Your father confirmed that he has been negotiating with Lord Malfoy and they agreed for Heir Malfoy to court you. Though it is not binding yet, they did sign a courting agreement, so it is good you had the foresight not to slight the boy. It would be best if you went along until you can talk to your father about it.

I do not know what your father is thinking he is doing. From what I heard, the boy has wool between his ears and if he is anything like his father, that is probably one of his highlight qualities. Yet, I am loath to interfere with your father's business lest it make him resentful of me meddling in his dealings.

However, you have my promise that if you discover the boy is foul and mistreats you, I will not hesitate to put an end to the match. I will not have those upstart French snails sullying my most beautiful granddaughter. Keep your eyes open and your wits sharp.

My lip tugged up a bit. Trust grandfather to be his charming self. I felt my grip on the letter relax from where I had been clutching it like a lifeline. I looked down the table to where Malfoy was sitting, hair slicked back and immaculate as ever. No longer threatening. I imagined little snails going up and down his hair, doing their best to make sure little Lucius did not have a single lock out of place. I would have to share that with Cara later.

As for your new professor, I am afraid I do not have much to tell you. He is Dorea's boy, but I have only seen him a few times when he was younger. I believe he went to America for his schooling, although I do not know why.

He came back to Britain about a year ago and we shared a very pleasant meal together before he left for the castle. I can tell you with confidence that he is very skilled in Defence. If you wish to know more, I encourage you to speak to him, or write to Dorea.

I am proud of your scholarly endeavours and wish you the best of luck. There is no doubt in my mind you will master the charm, and whatever else you set your mind to. I always said you were the brightest.

Grandmother is well, as am I. We both send our love.

Forever yours,

Arcturus

I felt the amusement tugging at my lip as I looked at the elaborate A. Even in personal correspondence, he was Lord Black. I could almost see the quill flourish as he signed it. It made me feel as warm as a big fire on a cold night. I was surprised he had written back so quickly, as I had not managed to get to the Owlery until late last night.

Still, I probably should have expected it. I imagine he saw the sentence about Malfoy and was on my father's business in an instant.

"Well, they must truly have you smitten if a letter from them makes you smile like that," Cara broke into my thoughts.

"You know, I would not exactly say that I am smitten with my grandfather. But yes, I love him very much."

"Ah," she replied, crestfallen.

"Come now, we should go for a walk around the lake or something. I do have to tell you all about my secret lover after all," I said with a wink.

"I knew it!"

"Shush, you, or it will not be a secret much longer."

She stuck out her tongue at me. I grinned at her enthusiasm as I scratched Noire's head and finished my toast.

We had barely left the castle through the Clock Courtyard before Cara broke the silence, eyes alight with mischief.

"So, who's this mysterious person you've been hinting at?"

"You know, it is nothing that exciting, Cara. I was just asked to go to Hogsmeade earlier this week."

And it was true. There was nothing exciting about it. Despite all the talk of secret lovers, the closest to a relationship I wanted with Malfoy was that of an infrequent acquaintance.

"And why exactly has it taken you until Sunday to tell me about this?" Cara asked with her hands on her hips.

"Well, I did not exactly know what to say. Or even what to think."

"Oh? Why is that Cissy?"

"Well, how would you feel if Lucius Malfoy asked to accompany you to Hogsmeade?"

Cara stopped, looking at me with something between amusement and horror. "Ah."

"Yeah, you see the issue?"

"Mmmmhm," she replied with a drawn-out sigh. "Yep, I see your point."

"Certainly not as exciting as you and McKinnon, hm?"

Cara froze, her eyes wide like a panicked doe. Then she blushed. Actually blushed. I should have been proud of myself. I did not think I had ever seen Cara blush.

"Who told you that?" she asked in a small squeak.

"Oh Cara, do you think me blind? We all saw how you two look at each other. It is quite sweet, actually."

"You're… Aren't you mad?"

I took her hand and pulled her towards the distant treeline and away from Sirius and their approaching gang of troublemakers. This was not the sort of conversation to be overheard, after all.

"No, Cara, I am not mad," I said with a small smile. "If you are happy then so am I."

She released an explosive sigh.

"Dad's not going to like it," she grumbled as she kicked a rock. I watched as it tumbled down the hill before it was lost in the tall grass.

"No, I do not imagine he will. But who is going to tell him? Certainly not me. And I do not think Emmy or Alice are the sort to tell either."

We sat down on a tree stump close to the forest. It was still somewhat warm outside, but Cara had all but bundled herself into her clothes. She was fidgeting with the hem of her robes, twisting it into a little black rose bud.

"You're right, I s'pose. That doesn't mean that if dad finds out he's not going to kill me," Cara muttered.

I shook my head and wrapped my arm around her. "Worry not. We will find a way to make this work. If it even lasts."

Cara huffed. "Bugger this all, why does it have to be so complicated?"

"Hey, at least your father did not agree to have Sleek MacSleazy court you."

Cara giggled. I grinned.

"You know what, you're right. So, what's up with you and Malfoy?"

"Do not. Just… no. I have no idea. He asked me to Hogsmeade. I could not exactly say no without a reason. It's all so—"

"—weird?" asked Cara.

"Fucked," I said. "Completely fucked."

There was another stretch of silence. This one was less tense. I blew an errant lock out of my face; Cara picked at a piece of bark sticking out of the stump.

"Yup, sounds about right," she said. "But hey, at least you get a lunch out of that."

"I was thinking about stocking up on some Malfoy-sponsored chocolates," I said with a grin. "You know, since he offered so kindly."

"Ooh, devious," Cara replied with a matching smirk.

"But anyway, that is enough about me. Tell me about you and Marlene."

"There's not much to tell…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"Have you two kissed?" I asked.

"No," she replied. Far too quickly. And the blush was back.

I raised an eyebrow at her. She was looking at the Whomping Willow in the distance, watching it twist and sway in the early autumn breeze with a far-away look.

"Yes," she replied after a while. I barely heard it.

"Good. Would have been a shame if you had not, after all this," I said, waving my hand around. "I will not pry, Cara, but I am here to listen, you know?"

"I know, Cissy," she said with a smile. It was a good smile. The kind that dimpled your cheeks and squinted your eyes. A happy smile. She deserved it.

"But don't tell Emmy and Alice," she said, breaking the comfortable silence that settled between us.

"You think she did not tell them herself by now?" I asked, grinning. "Cara, they are friends and they sleep in the same dorm.'

"Oh bugger."

"Language, Rosier, or I will put you in detention," I said as pompously as humanly possible, relishing in the sound of her laugh.

···

I walked down the third-floor corridor, trying to put my thoughts in order as I approached the office of Professor Potter. I have been trying to get my patronus charm to work for the better part of the last two weeks and had no success with it.

I was still wondering why I went here instead of Flitwick's office as my feet carried me around the last corner and in front of the door. I frowned at it as I thought about how I would approach the conversation. The truth was, I was here because I was curious about one Harry Potter. I scratched the side of my nose as I adjusted my robes and knocked.

I waited, staring at the damned slab of wood; my eyes trailing the grain as it twisted and turned. Maybe I really should have just gone to Professor Flitwick.

Maybe I would.

I was just about to turn around when the door creaked open, and I found myself face to face with the professor.

"Hello, Miss Black. Please, come in," he said as he opened the door further and gestured for me to enter.

I looked around curiously as I entered the office. I have never been to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office; I never had the need to. It had always felt like the professors were less competent than Bella. That is, until this year.

If I was being honest with myself, I did not know what I was expecting. Maybe diagrams of creatures, anatomical posters, or something else that tip-toed the border between horrifying and downright morbid. What I found instead was a single sizable bookshelf, a cloak stand with a shimmery dark grey cloak, and a large desk in the centre of the room. By the time I focused my attention on the desk, the professor had already moved most of the large rolls of parchment covered in miniscule runes to one side of the desk.

As my eyes swept across the rest of the room, they stopped at the large slab of stone by the window. I looked at the professor in shock.

"Ah, excuse me. I hope you do not mind my familiar, I assure you she is quite harmless," he said merrily.

I looked between him and the snake that was sunning on top of the rock. Where the stone was dark grey, the snake was pitch black. Like a squiggly line of ink that spelled death.

"Anyway, I presume you did not come here to pet Medusa, so what can I do for you today?" he asked as he leaned against the corner of his desk, entirely too amused by the situation.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to look away from the snake. In all honesty, it had an apt name. It was petrifying.

"I hope that is a snake and not a basilisk, Professor," I said.

"Oh, no no, don't worry Miss Black. Even Mr Hagrid would not be foolish enough to own a pet like that," he replied with a small smile that said he knew his answer did not, in fact, answer anything.

"Snakes and other serpents aside, I came here to ask for some pointers on the patronus charm."

"The patronus charm? Have you been cavorting around Azkaban, Miss Black?"

"Oh yes, every third Thursday of the month," I deadpanned.

He laughed and shook his head. "An admirable albeit questionable pastime, Miss Black."

"It is neither here nor there," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. "But no, the main reason for my interest is because my grandfather mentioned you can send messages via the patronus, and I have been trying to get it to work since you mentioned it in class."

"Ah, I should have known that Lord Black would be clever enough to figure out that side to the patronus. Not many do, even those that bother learning the spell. It is a devilishly difficult one to master, after all."

"I am not many people, professor. I am a Black," I said with pride.

"Indeed you are, I can see why he speaks so highly of you. Anyway, if you would, please demonstrate where you are with the charm?"

I nodded as I drew my wand. I thought of my happy memory. Bella, Ana, and me; hiding beneath a table. We were grinning like fools as we ate the cake we stole from the kitchens.

I spoke the incantation, flourished my wand and felt the burst of heat and power travel down my arm into the wand, and out into a fine white mist. It held for a moment before it was blown away, as if by a breeze.

"Very good, Miss Black." His voice broke me out of my reverie.

"It is a far cry from an animal."

"True, but it is also far better than most, considering how long you have been practising. It did take me almost half a year to learn it, despite the… Shall we say unfavourable circumstances. It is no easy feat to get results," he said reassuringly.

I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak. My mind still flying a mile a minute as I thought about the times before. Before Ana ran away. Before father had lines on his forehead from where he frowned so much.

"You said you were stuck?" he asked gently.

"Oh, yes, professor. I got the mist after a few days of trying, but ever since then..."

"Nothing has changed?"

"Yeah. I even tried different memories like the book I am studying from mentions, but this is as far as I can get."

"What memory are you using?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That is a rather personal question, is it not?"

"Indeed, but it is not the contents that interest me, but how it makes you feel. The patronus is one of the most intent-dependent spells known."

He frowned as he held up a hand to stop me from speaking.

"Contrary to popular belief, the patronus is not a manifestation of happiness, just like the dementors are not a manifestation of fear. The patronus is, first and foremost, a protector."

"A protector?"

"Indeed. That is why I asked about the memory. Most books will say to find a happy memory. Unfortunately, in this regard, most books are rubbish," he said with a secret smile. "You want a memory that makes you feel safe. Protected. For most, this is associated with happiness, hence the connection. But you do not need to feel happy, merely safe. Let that feeling fill you, like soaking in a warm bath."

I nodded as I mulled his words over in my head. Surprisingly, it made sense.

"You said that dementors are not a manifestation of fear, professor," I said.

"Indeed."

"Then what are they?"

"Well now that is the question, is it not?" he said as he absentmindedly sat down on the large slab of rock and the snake slithered up his sleeve and disappeared into his robes. He looked out of the window, barely noticing as the creature made its way out of his collar and wrapped around his shoulders, almost comfortingly.

"The dementors, Miss Black, represent Death. It is our own fear, our own inability to comprehend the vastness of Death that makes us feel fear when we are near the Reapers," he said softly, his fingers playing with a ring on his hand.

He looked up from where he was looking at his ring, and his eyes met mine. Black with grey.

At that moment, they felt much older than they had any right to be. Almost as if the pupils spilled into the irises, into the whites of his eyes like smoke on water. Hardened, tortured determination. Flying; laughing madly in the endless abyss; thrown off a cliff in a desperate act of defiance. Unafraid. Wise. Hopeless.

Then the moment was gone, and I was not sure if I had just imagined it.

I stared at him as the pieces of the puzzle clicked. Azkaban. The Kiss. The fear. The patronus. I found it all too funny.

"I am glad you are finding humour in the situation, Miss Black," he said with a chuckle.

"What I find funny is how obvious it all seems, now that you pointed it out to me, professor. Why is it that nobody seems to know what the dementors are?" And what makes you different?

"Ah. You are not one for simple questions, Miss Black, I can see that. But the answer is simple. We fear what we do not understand, and we do not understand that what makes us afraid. But we are going off-course. We can perhaps return to the philosophical debate on the subject of Death later. Now, I want you to try and find a memory to summon your own protector."

I nodded, already knowing.

Grandfather, looking at me from over the chessboard; his eyes full of pride, his smile as wide as I have ever seen.

'Congratulations, little Narcissa. That was a beautiful game.'

I looked at him in disbelief, staring where my pieces had the black king at sword point. I had never won before.

'But grandfather, you never lose,' I said.

He chuckled as he pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me. 'I did not lose, little Narcissa. Losing means you have abandoned hope. You simply won more than me. Now go check on your grandmother while I convince your pieces to release my king.'

I felt the safety of his arms around me. Heard the pride and joy and determination and ruthlessness that was my grandfather.

"Expecto Patronum," I said softly.

I was dazzled by the white light that burst from my wand, coalescing into the shape of a bird that took flight and circled around the room before landing on my shoulder. I looked into its blazing eyes; mesmerised. Feeling its familiar warmth seep into me. Around me.

Slow clapping brought me back to the now, my concentration broken and the bird dissipating into a white mist that washed over my face. I looked at the widely smiling professor.

"Now that's what I call impressive, Miss Black. I am certain your grandfather would be proud to know that your protector is a raven. Take twenty points for Slytherin," he said with a wink.

A raven. The symbol of house Black. My house. My family. I felt my chest tighten at the bundle of emotions I felt.

"How do I use it to send a message?" I asked in a small voice, pushing my emotions to the side. Now was not the time to unravel them.

"You simply have to desire to protect another, Miss Black. You can either form the words in your mind, or speak them aloud. As you can imagine, the former is much more private, whereas the latter much more practical."

'I love you, grandfather,' I thought as I waved my wand with a whisper and watched the brilliant white raven burst out of my wand and disappear through the glass panes of the window.

···

"You're late," said Alice as I sat down at the table.

"Oh hush, Alice. Or do you need to be reminded of that time you ditched us and went with Longbottom for a tour of the cupboards last week?"

Alice stuck her tongue out at me as the other girls laughed.

"And anyway," I said, looking over their parchment scattered across the library table. "I am quite sure you will graciously allow me to copy down the lengthy three-line treatise you have managed to write in my absence."

"You know, Cissy, you're awfully chipper, considering it's transfiguration time," said Emmy with a grin.

Oh Morgana and her dancing trolls, I groaned internally. Transfiguration. It was not that I disliked the subject—the arithmancy behind it was actually quite enjoyable. The issues always came when the neat principles were thrown out of the window in favour of dozens of incantations that came from half a dozen languages and who even had the time to remember them all?

At least, that was what I told myself.

Every time my conjurations came out stunted and my attempts at transfiguration halted somewhere along the way like a steam engine short on coal, I told myself it was not my fault.

But if I was honest with myself, I was simply not good with transfiguration. I hated not being able to do something. I hated the frown my father gave me when he saw the E marring my OWL sheet over the summer. I hated all the fucking baggage that came with who I was; not living up to what my father thought I should be just because I had his stupid name.

Toujours pur. More like toujours parfaite and fucking unreasonable.

I scratched at my nose; irritated. The room was too stuffy. Too warm and dusty from the stack upon stack of old books. I felt like I needed to sneeze. To breathe. To get out of this stupid library and stupid school and—

I felt Cara's hand squeeze on top of where I had clenched mine so hard my fingers had gone white. I looked up to see a small, understanding smile and kind eyes. She understood. She knew.

"Hey, let's get this essay over with and then you can tell the girls about what took you so long with Professor Potter, hm?" she whispered as the other three discussed something or other about Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.

"Oh, shut up," I said as I felt my cheeks heat up. "It wasn't like that."

"Whatever you say, Cissy," she replied with a smirk before she drew her transfiguration book and thumped it open in front of me. "Work time!"

Three hours later, I put my last dot on twenty inches on the implications of Gamp's Law on inanimate conjuration; complete with a nice claim and conclusion that I was particularly proud of.

I put my quill down and massaged the cramps out of my forearm as I looked across the table. Alice and Marlene were discussing some finer points of the assignment, Emmy was writing with her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she did when she concentrated. Cara… Cara was failing to blot out what looked to be a result of a snapped quill. I sympathised.

"Here," I said as I passed her my spare blotting paper.

"Stupid chicken probably didn't get fed enough," I heard her grumble as she stared murder at the quill. "You think I can burn it here?" she asked, all hope and innocence.

I grinned at her as I turned to check that the librarian was not looking our way before I levitated the quill. I felt a flash of heat on my face and giggled as Marlene and Alice looked up with identical expressions of shock. Emmy continued writing, oblivious.

"Someone's bored, eh?" said Marlene with a look.

"Oh, thoroughly entertained," said Cara.

Marlene blew her a kiss. Alice rolled her eyes.

"Maybe we should take a break. Cissy's done, and it looks like Cara went through all her quills already," said Alice, ever the diplomat.

I nudged Emmy with an elbow. "How about that, Emmy, you want a break?"

"Yea, it's quite the advanced hour," said Marlene, looking at the dark window as Alice groaned.

"Sure," Emmy said as she started rolling up her parchment. "And don't think I didn't notice the pun, Marlene, you've been doing it for years."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Vance. You always spoil the fun."

···

I laid in bed; thinking. The water above the glass ceiling was as dark and murky as my thoughts, framed on all four sides by dark green curtains. I heard faint snoring from somewhere in the dormitory, disturbing the silence as if it had nothing better to do.

All the thoughts I have been pushing down for the last few days were flooding in like a stormy sea. Unrelenting. Chaotic. Seeping into each other like wet paints. All at once and threatening to sweep me under.

I was scared about what was happening outside. About the furtive glances that certain groups gave the others in the common room, the muttering and insincere smiles. The tension that was building up since the summer.

I was worrying about the upcoming Hogsmeade outing with one Lucius Malfoy, Heir extraordinaire.

I was afraid for Cara. For what people would say when they found out. It was not about them being girls, Morgana knows nobody had an issue with that. But, the old families had their expectations.

So I worried what her father—and Marlene's father for that matter—would say. Despite what I told her when we spoke, I saw no way out for them. This was not the kind of story that had a happy ending. This one was missing a prince charming and had one too many princesses, and I had a niggling feeling it would somehow all go horribly wrong.

And then there was the Defence professor.

Maybe it was the fact that I was learning the patronus. That I associated feeling safe with being near him. Maybe it was—

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt my mattress shift near my legs, and I looked down as Cara sat against the footboard, muttering a silencing spell and closing the curtains again.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Can't sleep?"

"Mmhm," she said as she pulled her legs under her chin. "I thought it was long overdue that we talked. I've missed our late-night talks."

So did I. I suddenly felt as young as I was, excited to spin up scandalous improbabilities with Cara.

"Yeah," I said simply. We sat in silence as we listened to Adelaine snoring. Each lost in our own thoughts for a moment that felt like forever.

"So, are you going to tell me about your escapades with the professor?" she smirked at me.

I sat up against the headboard, crossing my legs as I absentmindedly pulled the covers higher.

"Yea, I guess you would want to hear all about how he showed me his snake."

"He what?" she all but shouted.

"Quiet, Cara, you do not want to wake the others."

"Sorry, he what?" she repeated, quieter this time.

I burst into silent laughter at her shocked expression. All the teasing that would follow was worth every knut of the bargain. Black: plus one.

"You can't just laugh and not tell me, what in Morgana's frilly knickers happened in that office Cissy?"

"Oh, do not worry Cara, he just showed me his familiar and then we did some magic, you know how it goes." I winked at her.

This was entirely too much fun. It felt good to just be sixteen for once. Even in the dim half-glow that came through the ceiling at night, I could see she was as red as a beet.

"Cissy, he's a professor!" she half-gasped.

"Yeah, and you were eyeing him up before he was even properly introduced."

"But—"

I decided to take some pity on the poor girl before she asphyxiated on accident.

"Honestly, Cara. I went there to get some pointers on my patronus. We ended up talking about a lot of magical theory. It was quite enlightening. And he has a snake familiar. Its name is Medusa, I thought it was quite funny."

"Oh."

The word fell like a rock in water, rippling out a silence. It sounded almost disappointed. Maybe it was. Maybe I was.

"What, you do not like my boring life, Cara? Not everyone can go out on nightly escapades with their secret lover, after all."

"Well thanks, I'd much rather take my escapades than your stuffy, boring-ass studies," she said with a grin. "Was he at least hot, though?"

"Definitely."

"Oh Cissy, you must admit that—What?"

"I said, 'definitely'," I repeated.

"I knew it!"

"Shut up. It was a joke."

"No. You have the hots for Professor Potter."

"No, I do not, Cara. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Oh, don't deny it, Cissy!"

"I hate you. I hope Marlene hates you too."

"No, Marlene loves me," she said, her teasing smile softening.