Happy Holidays to All of you! and I'm planning on wishing you a Happy New Year, too, and very soon ;)

As you might see from my less than precise uploads, I'm struggling with my schedule, but I have hope this is only temporary. What would never change: My commitment to this story (and to finnishing it), my intention to upload about every ten-ish days, and of course,

whatever you may recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling, this is her world, and I'm grateful for the permission to play in it for fun.

Also, my love for feedback... that's also eternal. :)

TN_Chapter 17.

26th October – 1st November 1993

(16/17)

Mrs. Norris had never particularly cared for rats. As a flavour. In her almost thirty-two years accompanying Hogwarts' present caretaker, which amounted to only about four months less than her lifetime, she was known to understand the necessity of driving rodents away but always enjoyed the hunt and the kill more than the taste of blood on her sensitive whiskers.

People frequently said she was an odd cat, and being very much sentient and intelligent a cat, with ancestors among the Kneazles aplenty, she could understand their point. She didn't need to like it, though, and not one student regretted badmouthing her over the years. Or Filch. She'd climbed on his bunk as a mere kitten after seeing something shiny on one of her escapades around the Thestral stables, where she'd been born, and that mad unicorn foal had kicked her in the hinds.

Filch grumbled and cussed, but he helped and named her. That was enough. His mumblings and grumblings entertained her more times than not, and his fish smelled and tasted better than anything the house elves or the castle's hidden corridors and cupboards could offer. Much better than rodents. He gave her shelter, magical remedies and occasionally vitamins and the flea-control she needed, and he also provided hunting. Moreover, he relied on her in hunting, something she thought invigorating. Her human was sensible enough to work in a team: A team of the two of them, which was enough.

Mrs. Norris never liked more people than Filch did, and the occasional student the caretaker endured and accepted into their pride usually were up to the mark for her tastes, too. Not one of them was as good at hunting as the Snape boy became since he matured, and none of them scratched an ear better than this new witch. Whose scent now put her off the trail of that aggravating rat she'd been chasing through passages and hidden stairways since the fifth floor.

If Mrs. Norris could ask about Anne's problem or could offer a good dressing down for the girl being where she ought not to, she most likely would have done both. As far as her options stretched, she made do with sniffing her tears and snuggling into her lap as a consolation. And the absentminded ear-scratches even made her forget about business in favour of a short kip. However, Mrs. Norris was a dutiful cat, so as soon as she woke, she stretched and set out to get her human because this witch on this balcony seemed perilously wrong. And she was also cold.

Now, Mr. Filch happened to be in a decidedly less phlegmatic state of mind than his cat had been when she sought him out. We should ask the ancient Master Galen about the condition and phase of his bodily fluids for an explanation, or just assume that his overworked joints didn't enjoy the long travel up to the seventh floor when he was supposed to work behind the kitchen. Anne would never know whatever caused his emotions to roar from enraged to concerned. She only sensed his presence and fought off the sharp stab of consciousness, neither being hard for an empath in tired apathy.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Filch, I will not linger very long now," – she told her friend without turning to see him. The unchanging fields under the castle, all dressed in grey in the rain, promised a much more calming view.

"Long?" – the old man stared at her bewildered. "Longer than your classes or the lunch your peers have already taken? You frightened Mrs. Norris, and you know I can't stand such conduct!"

"I know," – Anne sighed. "And you dislike me deserting," – she added without looking up. "I bet, sergeant, I could name a dozen things you would also hate me doing."

She felt she had given her friend a pause. She just couldn't bring herself to care. The fields were so becoming in their grey glory… so calm… beckoning, even…

"What are you upset about?" – Filch asked her with some urgency. "I warn you, lass, you shouldn't test that shield charm. It wasn't made to keep things inside, just to keep the winds out!"

Anne leaned closer to the edge only to look after a raindrop, and Filch's alarm somehow seemed so amusing that she smiled.

"It's so futile, Mr. Filch. Have you thought about it? Keeping out something as harmless as the weather while everything else just washes through… and there's nothing inside at the end of the day. No peers or classes, or anything…" – she suddenly turned to the old man. "Did you know I turned sixteen about a week ago?"

"Isn't it unusual for a fourth year?" – Filch carefully eyed her. "Not that it matters much."

"No, I'm sure it doesn't for anybody," – Anne agreed. "But still, it changes things because those 'peers' you keep mentioning – I don't have them! I never had. Madame Pomfrey may teach me, but only she knows her reasons. Madame Pince and you might both care, but you've gotten along well enough without me. Even… my Aunt Rachel, you have never heard me say her name, but I love her the most. Even she had a good life without ever knowing me, but in this last few years."

Now, she also felt her friend's discomfort even before Filch began to clear his throat and fumble. "Lass, if you need a talk, I am not the right fellow to hold up…."

"That's it, Mr. Filch, I'm just tired of it," – Anne went on as if she only distantly heard him. "I'm way more tired than anybody should be… and for what?" – She looked at him again. "I care about maybe half a dozen people. Half of them have lived a good life without me around, and the rest are two pureblood witches who know not more than I do and my brothers, whom I cannot even help!"

"Is that about that thing with Gringotts?" – Filch asked with narrowed eyes, which would have looked like a warning if she didn't sense his hope.

Anne smiled when she realized the old sergeant hoped to find out about trouble he could understand and deal with instead of teenage angst and possible tears. She suddenly loved him so much that she wouldn't have minded hanging by those handcuffs for a few hours to please him. Because she knew her words wouldn't have the same effect.

"There's no more Gringotts. We lost. I will never have the money." She returned to staring at the fields again, but it wasn't the same anymore when she finally had feelings inside of that formerly emotionless bubble she had let grow in her chest.

"It was because of Phil Goosey! And because my brother is an idiot. But he would have been a harmless idiot out of everybody's way if our dearest father hadn't pushed him front in the MLE, where he never wanted to work in the first place! He doesn't even have the NEWTs to be an Auror, just a fucking postponer at the wrong place!" – She burst out:

"He wanted to drink and pick up girls, drinking and wasting his life away like Gavin does at the Beast Department! But at least he has a girlfriend to occupy his time! Caleb would have the same if Goosey didn't steal his girl, and Father would leave him in peace like he leaves Gavin and me because we don't matter! Caleb should be loved enough not to matter too!"

Filch scratched his wavering hairline and mumbled something about firstborns and wizards, but Anne wasn't calm enough to hear him yet.

"I behaved as a goddamned pureblood of the first circles and tried to use family like my father does… Imagine my failure when it turned out I was exactly as useless as he was! I could enrage the right witch to wreak havoc, but I can't pay off two thousand Galleons when all we gathered with Gavin are four hundred less than we need! Maybe with the Knuts I earned here last year, it's a little more, but –"

"What do you mean earned here?" – Filch tried to interject, but Anne shook her head.

"That doesn't matter! It's still not enough! Not even with Caleb cursed! At least he is useless in St. Mungo's, so no one bothers him! But what will they do next if he returns to his job? I can't make him stay out of sight for all time!"

Filch slowly blew the air through his nose and planted himself in front of the girl. The way he looked was now rough enough to silence her woes. Anne felt a hint of satisfaction in him when she swallowed guiltily and averted her eyes.

"Now. What have you been thinking to just disappear here and wallow when you finally found the answer to what I asked?"

Anne stared back up at him with confusion. "I did?"

"I didn't bring up that nasty Goosey boy, fer sure! Self-pity is the worst devil you blasted intellectuals can't chase away! I don't give a monkey's pretzel for this all-shady humbug, but at least I know that that boy has also landed a job in the Ministry."

"He did, yes…."

"And wasn't he envious of what his friend had there, too?"

It suddenly seemed so clear that Anne gasped with joy: If Caleb offered to change places with Phil, he would be free. Phil would be into trouble, which he deserved, and probably didn't even mind… but again, she didn't have the funds without the potions prize. She explained to Filch the pitiful lack of those three hundred Galleons rounding up Gavin's savings and her Gringotts account.

"I'm not sure about the interest and such things," – she finished. "But I would be surprised if it was more than a thousand and a hundred. If Gavin puts in the savings he'd sent me to protect, too, that still won't make it enough, and all would go on."

"And what would you give if I helped you out, lass?" – Filch asked her pragmatically.

"You? Mr. Filch, I cannot make you… I cannot even accept, this is not –"

"You already dragged me into this omnishambles when you asked me to take you to the Gringotts. Rest assured, I will not move you from this school, especially not when this is probably the safest place. You're so deep into your drama that you're missing the great picture, which is quite plainly at your nose:

"Sirius Black is on the loose. He was spotted at various places, but even Hogsmeade was mentioned last time. Now, if anyone knows anything about that bastard, this is right the place where he would stick his dirty nose –"

"But why-"

"Keep to your business, lass, and don't ask more than what behooves you to know. That's the first lesson to avoid problems in the future, clear?"

Anne thought about asking Gavin and later Duvessa about all they could tell, and she swallowed with a nod. "Yes, Mr. Filch."

"Good. The second lesson is returning to learning because I hate hearing you know nothing useful. Interests and ratios should be clear for anyone. Where have you left off those insane studies for a Muggle school?"

"I didn't think… I thought I wouldn't have time…"

"And you have time for this clusterfuck instead?! I will never know what Pince would call sensible in a witch like you, but it doesn't matter to me!" He waited for his words to sink in before he went on:

"You will write a paper, and I will do your business with the goblins. How I see it fits, and I don't need to tell or explain. You will see me with those abysmal textbooks and get on to learn them because you've just proved you were dumb. And I will round out that money the way I see fit, which you will repay me to the last Sickle with the average Gringotts interest you will count. Understood?"

For moments, Anne could only stare. She was called dumb, chastised efficiently, and still, all she wished to do was hug this horrible old man. Why? She couldn't recall another instant to feel so cared for, even if it all came grumbled from an annoyed face. But she couldn't sense annoyance. She sensed weariness and some distant kind of hope… and affection.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Filch!"

"Stop the waterworks this instant, you wretched brat! I will not repeat that!"

Anne laughed and hugged her friend, causing him mostly surprise and discomfort, but then they walked down through side corridors and passageways to the caretaker's office, and she wrote what he dictated and told when she was to meet with her brother.

The whole affair seemed suddenly less overwhelming. She only was surprised by how knackered the morning had left her. She accepted the T from Snape for missing his class and retreated to her side tower for a snack and a nap before she braved the second part of her day.

The two weeks leading to Halloween slipped away with her chores and discovering the Muggle textbooks. Rachel received her owl gladly, and with praise, which Anne felt was unmerited, and the Common Room prepared for an old-fashioned celebration of Samhain after the usual feast in the Great Hall. When Mr. Filch handed her her savings, Anne was surprised to find she owed the old man only a little over two hundred and fifty Galleons and would have been ready to cut it to two hundred only by using the homework money. At least she was more interested in learning Maths than ever, even if Filch refused the sum.

"You'll need that in Hogsmeade," – he reminded, and Anne walked down to the village with the rest of the upper years after a thorough warning from their Head of House about Dementors and reasonable conduct. Fortuitously, the monsters were ordered away from the main road.

Snape spent less time in the Common Room this year and seemed jerkier than his usual average, taking everything too seriously, from the security measures through curfew breaks to even the mindless gossip he'd never been known to follow.

"I swear Milan even tried to duck, there was that rage in his eyes!" – Miranda told them walking down to Hogsmeade. "And it's not that we were out after hours or shouted, it was just a casual chat in the Courtyard. He didn't even kiss me, just talked about DADA and stuff! Then Snapey swooped down at him like a crazed Lethifold at midnight, or more like an Ironbelly spewing fire, and now he's stuck in the castle, even when we're supposed to have an anniversary to celebrate! I swear to Merlin, I could just –"

Miranda fell silent with a shake of her head and never actually said what she could do to Snape, Anne suspected because she was traumatized enough to fear him swooping down again.

"Well, I can well imagine him as a Lethifold!" – she agreed, not knowing what to say about Milan. At least Sophie found that funny. "But what was he about? Talking is not a sin!"

"Apparently, it is if you discuss DADA," – Miranda huffed. "Or it's about that Lupin, I don't know… Milan does his NEWTs. I'm glad for Charms, Trelawney, and McGee, but Milan needs Defence to snag that Agent position at Gringotts. He could travel anywhere and make a good living for even two…."

"Without the risks to a Curse-breaker," – Sophie nodded. "But it makes no sense! I don't buy he's sore for the DADA job. He's enough into Potions. I wouldn't mind him being less of a crackpot if anything." When both of the others looked at her, Sophie added with a shrug:

"Maybe it's the NEWTs, but he's out there with the homework. Even if Anne helps with the theory, brewing Draught of Peace and Weedosoros in one sitting, when both need time to simmer mid-brew and before bottling alike, is a murder!"

"You were probably supposed to make them simultaneously," – Anne deemed.

"Well, you'll try that when it's your NEWT year, Anney-honey. I will not risk mixing up heller bone with sorrow seed and get my arse ripped by an Ironbelly!"

"She's right," – Miranda nodded too. "He is worse this year, and my only clue is what he roared at Milan. Appraising a mediocre teacher whose very existence was yet to prepare you to even recognize a dark creature from a textbook for the first years! Can you even guess what he meant?"

"Textbook for firsties?" – Sophie sank deep in thought. "What was there? Inferii?"

"No, that's in Confronting the Faceless," – Anne remembered. "The first-year book is Trimble's about Dark forces and self-protection. There are Red Caps, Hags, Vampires, Werewolves, and Zombies. Not even Charmed Skeletons. That's third-year stuff. The second years learn hinkypunks and –"

"Merlin, don't you get started!" – Miranda stopped her. "So I guess not Zombies 'cause Lupin's surely not of the Amazonas… he has no qualms about sunshine and hasn't eaten a kid since he got here…."

"Yeah, so he must be a werewolf," – Sophie laughed. "Let's watch the Moon and listen for howling!"

Anne snickered with her friends so much they were almost stumbling on the cobblestones outside of Hogsmeade.

"As if Headmaster Maniacally-Afraid-of-Whatever-Dark would let a werewolf to school! I say it's definitely a Red Cap, and they had battled sometime in the past! Snapey's blood lured him back to protect the fields here," – Miranda fabled.

"If you believe it was his blood, you may also make him a vampire!" – Anne blithely argued. "There must be some potions to make them immune to the sun!"

"Yeah, after millennia, you'd guess they'd come up with a suncream" – Miranda laughed so hard she had to wipe her tears, especially when Sophie disagreed:

"What? To let him into the storage room without supervision? Where have you been these last seven years?"

"And he would sooner drink Cheer Gas than mix him a sunblock," Anne choked out between fits of chuckles. "Can you imagine?"

"Fucking Cheer Gas, I swear," – Miranda had to stop to catch her breath. "Hey, wouldn't it be fun to make him have some?" – she asked, now calmer but with a wicked glint in her eye.

Sophie stared, and Anne felt stunned.

"Are you nuts?" – she asked Miranda, hoping she would just laugh on.

"You don't joke about poisoning Snape," – Sophie shook her head, torn between panicking and giggling. "You just feckin' didn't, you horrible minx! I will not die for your madness!"

"C'mon, I only said it would be fun. I didn't say I would do it!" – Miranda hastily backed out. It was too late, though, because Anne's mind picked up the idea and was already trying to conjure up as many images about a Cheer Gassed Snape as possible, covering all sober thoughts with a thick cloud of laughter.

"Hello to Potions, all you sweet students! Time to brew Death to bottle," – Anne sang in a childishly minced voice. "Sing with me for the rhythm, my blessed friends: You're safe before you collide/with acetylcholine!"

When Miranda and Sophie broke down with laughing fits, she went on:

"Phyllobates, maitotoxin,

botulism and aconite,

You don't ingest yew, and neither

heller bone or cyanide

Stay away from pufferfish

and don't you lick an octopus

Tetradoxin won't make your death

in any way glamorous" –

She halted for a second before she asked, "D'you know something for arse and arsenic?"

Sophie shrieked like a mad firstie under the Tickling Jinx. "I have no idea, you killer! Where the bloody hell did you get this horror from?"

Anne shrugged. "Dunno, but… Hey, we're sure about Snapey's in the castle today, are we?"

"I'm sure he would have enjoyed your song, Anney, but no, he's certainly not around to hear it." Miranda finally managed a full breath and did her best to calm down and behave her age.

"Shame! He probably would have even rewarded it," – Sophie winked, and Anne felt her cheeks heating up despite the cold wind.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of."

"I'll get you a Chocolate Delight for that," – Miranda offered, motioning them toward the Honeydukes, but Anne had to refuse.

"Sorry, but I promised someone to – erm… My brother's waiting, but you won't tell, will you?"

Sophie was the quicker to catch on: "Of course. Is he feeling better?"

"Yeah, or so I heard," – Anne hesitated. "You may talk about it to Miranda and Milan, but I don't want others to gossip, okay?"

"Sure," – Sophie smiled, and Miranda leaned closer to catch up. Anne let them discuss the accident the way she explained it to Sophie about her being late for school in September.

She'd never been behind the Three Broomsticks, and for some reason, she imagined there must be open fields of grey ink like on an old parchment. Hogsmeade was a wizarding village, but no one really ever gave this a thought at Hogwarts. She knew more about it because of her escapades to Madame Pince's cottage but still had never seen its quirks and nooks using the Floo. It swiftly turned out that Gavin understood the village differently.

Behind the most famous pub, Anne found herself on a narrow street. Back walls of old gardens and a stray orange cat, big enough to look like a Kneazle, were all to see. On the right, she saw the road dipping in a curve behind the corner, and on the left, it seemed endless. Anne chose to turn right.

The old, flat street stones were steep after the rain, and she caught her robe up to see where she stepped, so she only heard Gavin when he greeted her.

"Stop, you're hexed!"

Anne pulled her lips with distaste. "Very funny."

"Actually, it's not funny at all," – Gavin stepped into the street and offered a hand so Anne could reach the steps leading them to the straight street level below.

The houses in this part of the village weren't that different from the Muggle houses back at home, only the chimneys emitted various coloured fumes, and there was a more extensive variety of plants in the gardens. Gavin slapped back an overeager guarding begonia behind its fence.

"Caleb said neither of you saw anyone when he was attacked," – he began softly. "I wish you did. I wish we all were more aware. This… this can't go on like this, A-bee. I was not made to be scared. I hate it."

Anne searched in her cloak's pocket till she managed to fish out her draft about defensive spells and hexes she thought she ought to know by this point but never practiced.

"Well, I've been thinking of this…" – she offered the parchment to Gavin, who took it with a mocking half-grin. "Don't get started about being a swot, will you? I know I'm behind. I thought maybe–"

Gavin lifted a hand to stop her and sent up green sparks by a garden gate.

"We'll talk about it," – he promised. "Now, I need you to meet this guy. He's been good to me and Caleb. Just don't stare, okay?"

A sturdy man with grey hair flying around his face and wearing a casual mud yellow robe waddled toward them on the garden path from the house. Anne thought him familiar, but she couldn't place him, and Gavin only greeted him, waving is hand as he spoke when he was close enough to see all the little wrinkles on his face.

"Hello, Mr. Sprout, this is my sister, Anabella. Thanks for having us!" – Anne was slightly confused by his brother's tone. He spoke softly but emphasized all the words and used hand gestures she'd never seen.

"'ello ter," – the man replied with a smile but sounding as if talking through a pot. 'Nice ta see ya,'" – he waved them inside. "I 'ope ye don' discuss me behind me' back, dear," – he told Anne in the door. "Am deaf as 'tis doorpost but can see what ye say."

He said it so cheerfully Anne cracked up. "Sorry, Mr. Sprout!"

"No need, darlin'! I like an honest girl."

Mr. Sprout's house was a two-storey building with a wide living room and a kitchen downstairs that slipped into an orangery on the farther side before the backdoor opened to the garden in the backyard. Anne noticed strategically placed mirrors that helped her see through most of the place just by sitting on the couch in the living room. The teapot on the stove was piping but didn't whistle. Instead, it changed colour from magenta to crimson, and the little man hurried to take it and make the tea.

"Is he Sprout's relative?" – she asked her brother.

"Her cousin. He's lived here for ages, so she won't feel alone. Once, there was some tizzy with Corey Hayden. You can't remember him. He was the Gryff Head Boy before you came. But this was before. We were mere second years, and he was with his sixth-year friends, and well, things would have gotten awful if Colin didn't show up…" – Gavin shrugged. "Well, he did, and had some herbs against those blotches, and so we became friends."

Mr. Sprout returned with the tea and watched Gavin intently before he nodded.

"'Istory lesson, eh? These boys are precious good at getting into trouble, Miss. I don't mind them, I've always benn the same," – he smiled. "'ave always something in their pockets too," – he added, watching Gavin sink a hand into his robe's inner pocket.

He produced two small pouches and handed them to him.

"Puffapod beans and Tentacula fangs," – he articulated carefully. "Sorry I had no more, but they might match that Veela hair you'd mentioned."

"Nice loot!" – Colin Sprout leaned back on his chair, pocketing the pouches with satisfaction. "Me' Mona would never drag home a Venomous Tentacula for the world!"

"Wonder why," – Gavin laughed good-naturedly while the older man winked at him.

"How's the castle in 'tis 'orrible gloom?" – Mr. Sprout turned to Anne.

"Gloomy?" – Anne peeked up from her tea, then repeated the sentiment, lowering her cup. "I could see those monsters over the Forest. The Wiggentree is withering in Greenhouse Five, and some owls are too afraid to fly. Mr. Filch had to make an elf feed them with scraps from the kitchen. And Professor Snape has never been this irritable."

"Gods, are there levels?" – Gavin cried out.

"So it seems," – Anne grimaced. "Madame Pomfrey gives out chocolate like a candyman. How do you cope outside of the gates?"

"The Ministry says they won't come in the village," – Sprout told them. "But they don't stop them flying about after dusk. I was told that the Shrieking Shack is haunted again, too. Which bothers me little, but people don't like it. The folks tend to stick inside for the evenings, which made Aberforth grumble more than once."

"Aberforth?" – Anne looked around.

"The barkeeper in the Hogshead," – Gavin explained. "You'd better not go there. There's always an unhealthy mix of folks. Someone will grass up no matter what you're about. And if it's nothing special, you're good with the Three Broomsticks."

Anne nodded. She would take his warning to heart.

"Which took you 'ere, I reckon," – Mr. Sprout emerged from his seat. "I'll be upstairs, fumblin'. No need to mind me, just leave me' pots alone, and make sure ye put the door in before ye go!"

"Thank you, Mr. Sprout!" – Gavin stood up with him, offering his right. The old man took it, and Gavin nodded to the side to make him listen when his sister spoke:

"It was very nice to meet you, sir. Your house is lovely!"

Colin Sprout grinned at her widely, then he turned to Gavin: "Nice to see you 'ave one among ye like my Mona's for me. Will keep ye two in order, mark my words." He waited until Gavin's chuckles subsided, then he turned back to Anne. "Anabelle, is it? 'Twas my pleasure, Miss. Do send up some sparks when you'd next be about!"

Gavin pulled Anne's notes from his pocket as soon as the old man started up the stairs, and he shook his head, reading her lines.

"You didn't grab the basics, did you?" – He looked at his sister. "I can't believe you got into the fourth year without a single row!"

"Well, there was that time when I transfigured the Carrows into a hare and a badger, but those are not DADA spells and-"

"And you thought you shouldn't count it? Are you nuts?" Gavin took a deep breath and folded the parchment before throwing it on the flames in the hearth. "Your problem is your approach. Everything can be a hex or a dark spell, d'you get it? Like cut their robes off, and they would run away screaming, or Wingardium Leviosa their shoes, and they're already tripped. You don't need these complex curses or hexes. Use what you know!"

"But I don't even know what I know, Gavin! That's the problem! There was Knockback Jinx in the first-year textbook, but we never practiced, and I couldn't even use it on the Bouncing Bulbs!"

Gavin stared at her. "A-bee, have you even tried?"

"No, of course not! I know I never practiced that!"

"And have you practiced a Cutting Charm before doing your nails alone for the first time?"

"What?"

With an exasperated sigh, Gavin stood in front of an armchair. "Knock me back!"

"What? Why?"

"You insisted on practice! Do it! Knock me over!"

Anne pulled her wand, but she hesitated. Was she supposed to do this with her less efficient maple wand to protect Gavin or with the unregistered ebony wand so this would never officially happen? When her brother groaned with impatience, she decided by the Ebony wand, and drew the torn helix in the air chanting Flipendo!

Gavin flew back in the armchair with arms sprawled to the sides. "Guess you're ready to add this to the Reductor Curse, then," – he mumbled. "You know, I'm kind of glad you've already practiced that one!" – he added, standing up and massaging his neck. "So the basics. D'you know the other Trip Jinx?"

Anne shook her head, and they proceeded with that one, then Rictumsempra, which was fun. Then came Locomotor Wibbly – the Jelly Leg Jinx and Melofors – which made her freak out, but Gavin could end the spell nonverbally with a Finite, even with a head turned into a pumpkin. She learned Titillio when Gavin cast it on her first, and she couldn't believe something as simple as the Tickling Jinx would work on Charmed Skeletons. Expelliarmus almost seemed dull, but Gavin insisted it was good enough for Snape to use it a year before. The last was Petrificus Totalus, and this time, she was ready with a Finite as soon as her brother's body hit the floor.

"Are you all right?" – she hurried to him.

"No worries, A-bee," – Gavin scrambled to his feet. "Now, there are some curses I would prefer you didn't try on me. Have you heard about Orbis?"

"Isn't that the thing you'd cast to defend against Erklings?"

Gavin laughed. "Could you be more bookish? No, not only Erklings. Speaking of them, I doubt I would see one in my life. But you can make Earth suck in anyone when there's a need. It's only mentioned in the Defence book that way so kids wouldn't use it in the corridors."

Anne's eyes widened with alarm. "But if others know this, anyone could cast it on me too! Or you! Or anybody!"

"Yeah," – Gavin nodded, happy he could finally make his case. "That, or a Reducto, or a Stupefy, or anything. And so you will practice deflections."

Anne looked around in the lovely living room with doubts, but Gavin laughed.

"Not here, A-bee, there's the backyard. We just need to take care of the pots. Have you cast cushioning charms already?"

They first protected Sprout's herbs and cushioned parts of the pavement and the paths, then proceeded with Gavin shooting hexes and jinxes, which Anne was supposed to deflect with either a Salvio or a Protego.

Gavin also showed her Fumos to hide from an attack and a spell he found in a book in their father's library, Speculo or Speculo Milia, which functioned as a mirror, reflecting back all spells on the attacker.

"It works on some curses, too, but not them all," – Gavin explained. "Anyway, it's good because it gives you time to think about a way out."

"I would need to think shorter if I could Apparate!"

"Well, there's that, but it's only what, two years? You couldn't do it in Hogwarts anyway."

Anne hesitated. Telling her brother about her age would go straight against Snape's rules, but she doubted Gavin would rat her out.

"Actually, I don't want you to talk about this, and the gods forbid you make it a big deal, but –"

"What?"

"I'm past sixteen," – she whispered.

"WHAT?!"

"I said I'm past sixteen," –Anne repeated a little louder, looking around. "There was this magic I used, well, sometimes use… and it tricks time in a way, and I shouldn't tell this to anyone, so don't be a jerk about it, but– I'll probably be seventeen sometime after Easter…" – she peeked at her brother. "Gavin, please don't freak out!"

It wasn't much to stop him, though. Her brother already paled, and his mouth fell agape.

"Are you using some dark magic, A-bee? You? But you… and father always… Shite, you know you shouldn't mess with these things!"

"It's not dark! Well, guess it could be, but I swear it isn't. I mustn't tell you everything, but Poppy had used it, too, and you can see she's fine and unharmed!"

"D'you mean Poppy Pomfrey?"

"Yeah, and some selected others. She takes care of me and helps a lot. It's harmless, I swear! But I thought we should maybe try to use this… after Easter, I could learn if you helped me… and…"

"You're completely barmy!" – Gavin shook his head. "Even if this thing's okay for Pomfrey, have you forgotten about the Trace? All kids are watched, A-bee, you can't just do whatever you want! And Splinching is dangerous. I wouldn't risk it!"

"Funny to hear this from you," – Anne grimaced. "All that you and Caleb have been up to, and even with this last idiocy he's pulled–"

"That's different! We never risked losing our wands or a limb like that! At least never wanted to!"

Anne was about to figure out if she should mention her ebony wand, too, when she became aware of those disturbing prickles around Gavin… his emotions were all over the place, which she understood about throwing this bombshell. Still, there was also shame, which gave her a pause.

"What happened to your wands?"

Gavin's reluctance proved her suspicions, and she pestered him until he lifted the cushioning charms and the protective spells from the pots.

"Not here," – he mumbled, and they returned to the living room. "D'you remember that silly wand oath we had taken in your first year?"

"Yeah, I always wondered if it was relevant made by mere kids in a school."

"Well, you don't need to wonder anymore because it's broken Caleb's wand," – Gavin told her dryly.

Anne felt as if everything slowed down but her heartbeat. The world suddenly seemed colder and unwelcoming, as if the darkness of a curse had enveloped them.

"Why would it do that? Are you sure?"

Gavin nodded. "He told me when he returned home, and Father went away. He broke, A-bee, you cannot fault him! Mr. Malfoy kept telling him all those nasty things about him owing and should help him out so he could think of him as a friend… and…

"So there was some parchment in the office they didn't want to be there, and so Caleb walked over to an Auror's desk and cast a simple Evanesco. The next he knew, his wand was broken, and it cracked so loudly he was afraid people would come. So he left the Ministry and went straight to talk to you. He first only thought it was something about Duvessa because he'd seen her just a few minutes before… but–"

"But is he sure now that it was the oath?"

"Yeah," – Gavin hung his head with a nod. "We haven't found a thing Aunty could do to make his wand break. But the oath could. Father has a pretty good library, and there wasn't anything else, and he said there was also that strange feeling as if something ripped… in his soul… can you imagine?"

Anne tried not to. It sounded awful.

"I talked to Filch. No, don't get mad! He's completely trustworthy. He even got me these," – she reached under her robe and pulled the sack of gold from her skirt's pocket. "It's two thousand, you may count it. We also spoke about getting rid of thugs like that, and Filch had such business before-"

"You're kidding!"

"No, he's way more than anyone would believe. It's almost funny. But the thing is, he said there is only one way to pull out of this crap." When Gavin gave her his utmost attention, she explained her plan about Phil changing jobs with Caleb and then Gavin paying the debt. "They need a guy to do their bidding, and Phil would never mind that, would he? But Caleb would never be rid of them until he's sitting by the wrong desk. They are after the position, not Caleb… well, unless it's about Father-dearest, but I suppose we could do nothing about that."

"No, guess not. But that's a thought," – Gavin mumbled. "Hey, I'd better take you back to the main road before it gets too late," – he suddenly stood.

Anne returned Mr. Sprout's tea things to the kitchen and sent them a Scourgify, which made Gavin crack up despite his strange mood. Then they walked back silently to the Three Broomsticks.

"Think about my thing about Easter, but please don't tell anyone!" – she asked her brother when she said goodbye.

Spending money was about the last thing she believed she should do, but necessities were stubborn devils demanding her to walk through the village and change her hard-earned Knuts for some new underwear at Gladrags. It became one of her more humiliating experiences, for the shopkeeper kept asking if she wasn't about to buy a new school robe, too.

Anne took the path uphill back to the castle, fuming and embarrassed, and promised herself to make Caleb pay for at least two school robes and a beautiful dress robe with a gown as soon as he took his new office in the Ministry. He might forego paying back her money, but she would make him responsible for any future embarrassment in a clothing store.

The lacking potion supplies also had to wait. She had no way to replace items in her Potions kit, but at least she didn't miss more than some ounces of Rue leaves for the potion antidotes, Jewelweed for the Pepper-ups, and, of course, Nightshade. Well, no hope for Jewelweed, but she was sure she could find Rue and Belladonna at the edge of the forest, and maybe Madame Sprout could be amenable to give her whatever she had in the seventh Greenhouse in exchange for some hours of weeding… but did she dare go to the edge of the Forest?

The weather was tolerable, and she couldn't sense the Dementors. On the contrary, Anne felt healthy and confident. She was happy about seeing Gavin, too, even if her experiences in Gladrags were enough to spoil some of the joy. She looked up at the grey sky, and although it was windy, it wasn't ominous. Convinced that the Dementors were not around, Anne strayed from the broad path and spotted that orange cat darting under the trees. If that strange Kneazle-like menace wasn't afraid, she would take her chances!

Rue wasn't hard to find. She even remembered Madame Sprout mentioning the bushes flourishing under the oaks. Anne set off to gather the leaves into her cloak's pocket. Belladonna was more challenging. She trailed by the edge of the Forest, always uphill to get closer to the castle, and watched the plants around her. Dusk was yet to settle, and she could hear students cheer from afar. Probably the Gryffs were there, returning from the village. Zap, there!

Anne crouched down to pull the Nightshade with some of its roots if possible. Lacking the ingredients, she could use that for a more potent brew if she amended the dosage using the root cuts, at least one of Pince's books promised that would work. Then she froze mid-motion, hearing something big and fast approaching through the fields. As silly as she knew herself, Anne first looked under the trees, but nothing moved there. Then she turned, and the black dog swiftly jumped through the undergrowth close enough to knock her over. It smelled wet with perspiration and a little sweet of adrenaline as if it worked through its system so thoroughly it changed even the smell of its saliva.

The dog vanished under the branches, and the noise died. It died all around…. Anne peeked up at the sky again, and the grey seemed darker, so she gave the plant a last frantic pull and fell backwards with the Belladonna in her hand. Some leaves rustled to answer her surprised yelp, and she saw that Zordo-like black dog again, staring at her through a bush. Anne froze. What the hell was she to do here alone if that huge dog decided it didn't want her around? She touched for her wand and tried to remember Gavin's hasty lesson, but the infernal dog began a low grumble as soon as she touched her pocket.

"I don't want to hurt you," – she told it in a shaky voice. The dog leaned its head to the side as if it mocked her. Really, it instead seemed she would have needed the same reassurance from the dog's part.

"You won't hurt me, will you?"

The dog's eyes narrowed as if it were contemplating the question. Anne didn't like it. In her fear, somehow Ephsos' words popped into mind about a channelling Empath, and although she had yet to try that, she reached her curious magic towards the dog.

Grumbling.

Most likely, she could only channel her fear. However, the dog didn't feel like a raging beast. Mostly, it felt like a complex knot of competing emotions… Anne never thought an animal could show such an intricate pattern of inner life and intentions.

"What kind of dog are you?" – she asked but regretted the moment the hostility and panic slapped into her face and the white and red wet snarl hid the beast's black features. She almost fell backwards again in her haste to scramble from under the trees.

"Sorry!" – she whispered, feeling stupid, and backed away until she was far enough from the last tree to see the fields and the sky again.

The dog didn't follow her.

"Good for nothing, rotten menace!" – she spouted all that came to mind and hurried towards the castle.

That strange feeling of cold and dread only caught up with her when the path was within metres. A look at the sky, and she couldn't see it grey anymore…. It didn't look like the sky, it felt like a glass bell or a cap, holding her within with something very, very wrong….

With a gasp, Anne realized she was alone, and the castle's door was a good run away. Gavin! She stubbornly thought about her brother and only about him. Gavin was a good boy. He drew her something nice. Gavin was happy she was born. He wanted her to have ice creams and be safe, and he was to come back here again. And Gavin had a Muggle girlfriend, and Mum liked her, and Gavin loved Kelly, and Gavin Apparated her to Rachel and Gavin… Gavin! Gavin!

The Hogwarts' big oak doors were still open, and Anne flew through them out of breath and pale with the effort but unharmed. Bloody Dementors!

Professor Lupin stopped in his tracks and gave her a curious look. "Are you all right, Miss Rosier?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I–" – she couldn't finish because the noises from the main staircase became louder by the second, and the Professor's head turned to investigate the signs of a starting commotion. "It's just that strange dog…" – she whispered, and the Professor's attention turned back to her with a quick jerk of his head.

"You were saying?"

Now, she felt embarrassed. "Ah, nothing, sir, sorry. I've just seen a dog, and it frightened me. Also, the Dementors-"

The noises from the main staircase got louder: some kept yelling at the Gryffindors, and Anne sensed a strange ripple of fright weaving through the general annoyance and impatience.

"Excuse me," – Professor Lupin said before he hasted towards the stairs.

Anne had no wish to mix with the crowd. Thankfully, the Common Room was far enough and although busy after the long day, at least the most disturbing thing was only the young Malfoy's whining over his hurt arm and gloating glee over his enemy's missing the trip to Hogsmeade.

"How could he have a permission slip? He doesn't even have parents, the moron!" – Draco snickered on the sofa with his friends when Anne stepped by them to sit with Sophie by the fire.

"I could name several kids with parents at places where you don't fill out slips," – Sophie grumbled with a shrug, and she shook her head over the loud third years.

"Well, the Carrows wouldn't thank you," – Anne deemed, - "but at least they have their aunt and uncle."

"Yeah, 'cause that Potter boy is raised by wolves, is he?" – Sophie replied. "Don't mind me, Annie," – she sighed. "I think I just hate those beasts around… and if they're truly for Scar-head's sake, I hate him too."

Anne was surprised enough to test the air around her friend. It seemed strangely cold and blurred without a hint of their previous cheer.

"What happened after I left? Where's Miranda?"

"Sharing her chocolates with Milan, whatever that means… We ended up in the Hog's Head just to see it, you know? And guess what we've overheard? Some think that Black is after that boy! They even hope to catch him around here! Even the ghosts hate those monsters. We heard the Shack shrieks again, too," – Sophie shivered.

"You should have some chocolate, too," – Anne suggested. "I can see you met up with Dementors. Madame Pomfrey would give you a double dose."

"We took the longer route, and they were gathering at the other side of the Forest," – Sophie shivered again, and this time she seemed to struggle to stop trembling. "Miranda tried to cast that dumb spell, you know, with the silver mist, but she failed, and I never had a spur how to do it, so we ran."

"The Patronus spell? Gods, I heard that's way too complex. That's why they only teach it at the NEWT level," – Anne thought about her father's advice and almost saw him struggling again with her mind's eye. Then she thought about Gavin and how safe she felt thinking of him… "Hey, Pince says it's just flashy anyway. Have you tried the other methods?"

Now Sophie was positively trembling. "What d'you mean?"

"Listen, I need you to trust me now," – Anne took her friend's hands into hers. "Have you ever thought about how complex a witch you are? There is a part of you that everyone can see, a part you only show to your friends. Surely there is a part only your mum knows, or your uncle, or Mr. Burke… you wouldn't mix them up, would you?"

"How is this supposed to help?"

"Just tell me if it's true!" – Anne demanded softly and only went on when Sophie nodded. "Good. Now, think of it like an onion. These are layers. Say the monsters can see only one layer. They cannot see your core because you're safe there. Which of these is where you feel the safest?"

"Do I have to tell you?"

"No, you only have to think about it," – Anne chuckled. She could sense Sophie's thoughts as if she saw them. She remembered of her long afternoons with Mr. Burke. Her uncle was out in the quiet shop, and they were having tea in the backroom. Mr. Burke talked slowly and quietly, and Sophie listened to all his tales…. "They cannot see that part, but you can focus on it instead of the bad things. You focus on feeling safe, and you run. That's what I did, and it worked."

Sophie's struggle was plain to feel, even to see on her face, while she focused inside with her face contorting with the effort. Then her muscles slowly loosened, her breath came deeper, and the trembles stopped.

"Isn't this the same as the Charm's theory? Should I try to recall that incantation and try to cast?"

Anne shrugged. "I don't know, I doubt I could do it… but it's not exactly the same. The Charm wants a happy memory, and this thing is only compartmentalizing. You're much more than what a monster can see with a glance. They feed on happiness, but there's a part of you that's just calm and strong. Or angry. Or, I don't know… anything else. You focus on what gives you strength and weather it. Have chocolate, and the happiness will return. We can live without it for a while, now, can't we?"

Sophie finally laughed. "Show me one who hasn't already! This is Slytherin, we are all fucked up a little, but that comes with the deal."

"Yeah," – Anne nodded, and she already knew Sophie was to mention that life was hard and go philosophical as she sometimes did in the evenings when Milan burst through the entrance, with Miranda following in a more dignified manner.

"You will not believe this!" – Milan took the chair closest to them by his classmates after discarding an errant second year who thought to warm up by the fire. "He was here! We heard it from the Gryffindor Portrait! Sirius Black is in the castle!"

"Wait, what?" – the seventh-year Derrick swiftly turned to him, abandoning the chess board and Warrington.

"What the hell were you discussing with that ugly old bird?" – his friend also looked up, confused.

"Don't be a moron," – Milan quickly dismissed the idea of him ever conversing with the Gryffindor Portrait – "we've been walking down from the sixth floor when there was hustle on the stairs. Even the Headmaster was called, and the Gryffs are out of their tiny minds because someone cut their Portrait."

"We took a detour on the side stairs behind those red hangings, and Milan almost ran into Filch down on the second floor!" – Miranda added.

"Yeah, he was reporting about the Fat Lady being found, and guess what she told him!" – Milan agreed.

"That Sirius Black attacked her?" – Derrick laughed. "Seriously, could they be any more transparent with the sensation-seeking?"

"Oh, I know it sounds odd," – Milan said, - "but Mim also heard it in the Hog's Head today. The guy is supposed to be searching for the Potter boy. Well, he might even find him because the Portrait was in pieces, and Filch was quite worked up!"

Miranda put a gentle hand on Milan's arm. "Don't argue, there's no need! Snapey's going to tell them!"

"Tell what?" – Warrington asked quickly.

"That the Headmaster ordered all teachers to search the castle," – Milan said with glee that Anne couldn't place. "We are going camping!"

"What?"

After Milan and Miranda spurred their classmates' curiosity with more incoherence, amused by their incomprehension, Professor Snape finally bellowed into the Common Room and ordered all students into the Great Hall.

"We found evidence that the castle's security was breached. I want all of you to leave these quarters in an orderly manner and gather in the Great Hall until further notice. I will accept no exceptions or rule-breaking. Warrington, that stands for you and your pathetic excuse for expressing festive spirits, too. You will need no supplies. Any questions?"

Per was the quickest to raise a hand. "Sir, is it true that Sirius Black is in the castle?"

"That is a possibility, Mr. Derrick. Anything else?"

"Why should a convict bother with a school?" – another classmate of Milan asked.

"Yeah, those Dementors'd better stayed around Azkaban, not that they're any good if he'd gotten away in the first place," – a boy called Belby added.

"Must be the Headmaster's incompetence if he slipped through the Dementors. I'll be sure my father would hear about this!"

"I suggest you stick to properly nursing that wounded arm instead, Mr. Malfoy, and I advise you against raising havoc, Mr. Belby. In case I find any of you uncooperative tonight, I will be very displeased with the whole lot of you. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," – various voices answered, and even those who previously argued were nodding.

"All right then. Bring nothing with you but your wands and be on your best behaviour. I would hate to write letters to your parents tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

Anne thought about Madame Pomfrey and the seven patients with flu and sore throat at the Infirmary and was about to stay behind and ask permission to go there when Snape's gaze hardened at her. For a second, she felt again that strange tickling sensation that always accompanied Snape's Legilimency.

"I take no exceptions or excuses," – he announced to the room, seemingly superfluously, as everyone was already gathering by the entrance or out in the corridor.

Anne silently nodded and tried to convince herself that her defences remained intact. As far as she could judge it, they were… how could Snape have known? Her House's Head walked through the crowd a moment later and disappeared on the stairs.

In the Great Hall's doors, the Slytherin students were joined by the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and Anne was reminded of her misgivings about crowds before she reinforced her mental shields. It was lucky that Snape had just tickled her mind. She was wide aware of the state of her forest and already closed the door on her mental house. She spotted Amelia among the Hufflepuffs and noticed how she tried to hearten a Ravenclaw girl. Was it Marietta? Anne hazily recalled that her mother worked in the Ministry, so she must have had some inside knowledge about that criminal's background….

As soon as the whole school gathered, Professor Flitwick and McGonagall closed all the doors.

"Where's Snape?" – Anne heard Flora from somewhere close. "Every other House Heads are here but him!"

Before anyone could answer, the Headmaster announced the thorough search of the castle, ordered the Prefects to guard the doors, and asked the Gryffindor Head Boy to notify him about anything extraordinary. As a parting thought, he also conjured sleeping bags for all the kids, replacing the long tables and benches, then left through the backdoor.

Of course, the following racket was only outshouted by the eager Head Boy's order for everyone to take their sleeping bags.

"Red," – Sophie grumbled, sitting on the conjured sleeping place when Anne took the one next to hers. "Bloody Gryffindor red. Look at it!"

Anne sighed and shrugged and tried to think about something else. The sixth and seventh years took their places in the corner between the pushed away Slytherin tables and the main door. She was nestled among them, and thanks to Sophie, Miranda, Milan, and her homework efforts, no one minded her presence. A small relief.

Suddenly, Milan laughed, and when they turned to him, he showed the zippers to Sophie. "And these are golden! You cannot say the old man gives no mind to details!"

"If he bothered more about the Dementors, we wouldn't have to suffer his colours," – Warrington deemed, but most only laughed. The Headmaster was a Gryff, after all. Surprise and grumbling better suited the lower years.

When the Head Boy announced the curfew, the candles blew out, and all the dim light in the Hall came from the Enchanted Ceiling's stars and occasionally from the reflection of the full Moon whenever it wasn't covered with the quickly floating clouds.

Anne felt calm in the safety of her mind until Sophie's hand sought out her shoulder. That touch carried worry and insecurity that her dormmate rarely showcased.

"I hate this," – Sophie whispered when Anne reached for her hand. "I know what it takes to breach a place like Hogwarts…. I don't want to meet someone dark enough to do it."

"You won't," – Anne whispered back, but she could sense it didn't soothe Sophie. "Hey, have you noticed Snape wasn't afraid?"

"I told you what my uncle thinks about him," – Sophie shrugged.

"I didn't mean that. He was bothered… just not afraid. He seemed determined, angry, even. Haven't you noticed?"

"Well, he would take points from Azkaban or the Ministry if he could, I guess," – Sophie mumbled after a pause. "He seemed clipped. Like when someone crosses him… what do you mean?"

"Just that. He gave off the moods like when he puts one in their place. He didn't look as if he had no clue…"

"No…" – Sophie pulled her hand back and seemed calmer. "I don't know how he would have any clue, though… d'ya think he will catch him?"

Anne wasn't even sure if she could imagine he did. She shrugged.

"That would make the sleeping bags green," – she finally suggested and was glad when Sophie snorted.

"Thanks, Annie," – she whispered and soon was asleep. But the whole thing was so curious Anne couldn't follow her example. She never turned back time on a Hogsmeade day and wasn't as tired as she usually would be after midnight. There was also that bothersome noise from the other side… and a strange sensation in the air as if it tickled her navel… it reminded her of Paul.

Gods, did she miss him! How come she kept thinking about her brother when she would have mentioned their time together if someone asked her for a happy thought? She still didn't reply to his letter because she didn't know what to say.

What kind of a girlfriend was she? There were bans on every topic! She wasn't likely to see a film in two months, or maybe eight, and she had no idea if she could even visit Rachel and her Gran in London!

Writing about Hogwarts was out of the question. She had no friends Paul could ever meet, and the Infirmary differed from a Muggle place. Did her helping out and having lessons from Poppy count as a job? She surely wouldn't see a Knut for that! A penny. Shite, she would just mess up everything if she didn't find a topic to safely discuss. Would Paul even want to see her if she wasn't to see him in the winter break?

That ticklish sensation became more prominent every quarter of an hour, and Anne had to realize it was Miranda snogging with her boyfriend. Blast them! She wouldn't have minded snogging Paul if he could be here! She wouldn't have minded leaving for London and snog him there either…. Daydreams came so swiftly, and they were so vivid, Anne almost groaned with frustration and turned to her other side, hoping her mind would change the topic.

Hushed voices and rustling sleeping bags… footsteps of one of the Slytherin Prefects, and then quiet. She could sense Miranda's annoyance and Milan's frustration, and escaped to her head, closing doors and windows, but she still couldn't sleep.

When the Headmaster entered the Great Hall, Anne's curiosity lured her out of her mind's house to judge the air around him. It was almost as mute as around Snape, only it presented eternal nonchalance and fake openness instead of a yawning void. The Head Boy's presence was more palpable: he seemed relieved and proud to be useful as he talked with Dumbledore. Then, the familiar void appeared around them, and Anne peeked up to see Snape.

She couldn't make out a word they exchanged, but suddenly, a new flare of irritation, almost petulance, hit her, and it came in the colours of the tempestuous sea. Undoubtedly, from Snape. There was also a hint of demand… then the Headmaster said something, and only dissatisfaction and irritation remained.

Anne concluded he couldn't find the intruder, and she finally fell asleep because no one seemed to be afraid any more.