ALL OF HER fears had come crashing down on her that night. Potter had been her last resort, her saving grace, and Potter had dismissed her for a lunatic. She despised him for it. She despised how simple words could do that to her; how he of all people could affect her like that. She wanted to scream with the absurdity of it all. Selwyn had, of course, found out about Luxanna's lies, and was sure to be on her trail already, ready to make her life more miserable than it already was, though Selwyn admitted to none of this. "Well, I suppose Harry Potter is a step up from Weasley," she had said. "The Potters were supposed to be in the Twenty-Eight, did you know? I suppose you've established a type, then? Blood-traitors. Oh, well... at least he's not ginger." It didn't matter; those were her perfumed locks in that bush, her wretched eyebrows. Triss Selwyn was stupid, but not stupid enough to not recognise a lie staring her right in the face—the girl dealt in lies, after all.

Then there was Weasley. George. Fucking. Weasley. Why had he followed her? Just why? Was he trying to play at her vulnerability—trying to rouse her guilt? Well, she had none! She had nothing for him. Nothing—and had he hugged her back?! How dare he touch me, how dare he... Was it a trick, then? But no, he would not do that to his friend, Spinnet. No... And Spinnet? What was that look on her face? Betrayal? Jealousy? Did she fancy him? Enough... How could she fancy that bastard? How could anyone? Did he fancy her, then? Enough, enough... Enough said.

Were it not for her caring friend, who had discovered her shivering and trembling out in the snow, reduced to a blubbering mess of incoherency—well, it might have truly been Luxanna's breaking point. Alex had abandoned his own date, and rushed out to find her; she could only guess what she must have looked like... How sweetly he had comforted her, caressing her broken ego, saying none of it was her fault, and without even knowing what had happened. By the affection in her friend's tone, one might have thought Luxanna merely an innocent little angel. "The night's still young," he had told her, "you have to dance. You have to." Maybe it was thanks to his unyielding affection, or maybe due to the sheer desperation of the moment, but with still reddened eyes and dirtied, wet clothes, Luxanna had accepted the offer.

They were out by the lake this morning, its surface was still iced over, but snow had not fallen over the last week so that at the very least the path that skirted around the lake was walkable. They gathered around a small patch of flat land by the water where some willows were still clinging to the banks, Alex sitting on one of the rocks and Luxanna pensively looking down at the icy surface of the lake.

By their side was another peculiar character—Maisie Spinster. Despite having shared a room with her for five years, Luxanna had come to realise that she knew next to nothing about the strange girl, and the family name Spinster was entirely foreign to her. She was a mediocre student; her clumsiness in Potions, her third-rate wandwork, her less than adequate (by Luxanna's standards) comprehension skills were all the marks of a Muggleborn witch, (or a Muggle sympathiser at the very least) but seeing as Alex had to be the only Muggleborn Slytherin at Hogwarts—the abuse he suffered being sufficient proof of that—Spinster had to be Halfblood. And from what little Luxanna could overhear about her from her late night conversations with Selwyn (she seemed to tolerate Selwyn better than Luxanna) she held no definite political affiliations.

Overall, her motives were entirely foreign to Luxanna; the girl kept to herself, always avoiding trouble where she could help it and preferring to take on the role of a bystander where possible, so that her present company could only be put down to her strange affinity for Alex. The two were sort of... friends, if one could call it that.

Her lack of magical aptitude was compensated only by her skill in talking. More specifically, the kind of pointlessly incessant talking which was devoid of an actual conclusion, so that as she rambled on and on about classes, about professors, other students, about clothes, about boys, (Alex happily nodding all the while) Luxanna felt her brain sort of... tune out and go... numb. She found that she was staring at a distant spot on the horizon for quite a long time and not really hearing anything... How could somebody speak so much and yet not say anything?

"I told him, so I did... Andrey, this is a one-time thing... I don't know about you, but I need my personal space." She was speaking very slowly, sucking the life out of every word. "But the man just won't take no for an answer. Funny, these Bulgarian boys— Or was he Romanian? Anyway, so persistent, you know?" Maisie shook her head and let out a small huff. "And then he showed up the very next day, with flowers, chocolates— And right in front of the Common Room, Alex."

"No!" said Alex.

"Yes!"

"What did you say?"

"Well, I said alright, you know? I'll go out with you again," she said. "I can't help it, Alex, he had the full works. Chocolates, champagne, flowers, you name it. It was all so romantic. He's so different from everyone else... And... well... there were times I thought about... Well, never mind about that. Hey, Black, have you heard about the Weasleys?"

This abrupt change of topic made Luxanna's head quickly snap around to meet Spinster, who had leaned forward, her eyebrows lifted eagerly. "Huh?"

"Don't tell... but I hear they've earned themselves a suspension," she said in a hushed tone, sparked with utmost intrigue.

Oh...

Oh, that was just wonderful. "Say that again," said Luxanna, feeling almost giddy at the sound of the word 'suspension.' Nothing could have lightened her mood better than this—a suspension? Finally, finally. It was due time they got punished, even if that article had been deceitful, who cares? Suddenly, the day seemed that much brighter and more colourful.

"I don't have all the details yet, but apparently their mother came to Hogwarts. Can you believe it? Sure, I would have rather taken the killing curse than have my auntie come to school. Can you imagine? The trouble these boys get up to!"

Alex burst out laughing at this. "Serves them right!" he said, slapping his hand on his knee.

"Indeed it does," added Luxanna. This news was huge. It meant some well-earned peace within her life at Hogwarts. No, more than that—this was justice served.

Spinster gave her a small grin, and then abruptly, she started in on some sort of incomprehensible discussion about Bulgarian men and the benefits of dating one. Luxanna couldn't be bothered to engage, but merely nodded as they wandered back to the castle, her mind still firmly rooted on the Weasleys.

It was a dreary day; the air frigid, and the sky threatening to open up and rain all over them. Or worse—a snow storm. It was a convenient excuse to head back inside, and just in time for lunch, too. But as they crossed the bridge over to the courtyard, Luxanna caught sight of Noctis as he swooped out of the sky to meet her, an envelope clutched tightly within his talons. By the emerald green seal, she knew instantly who it was from, but preferred not to mention her father's name in front of their new companion.

"I'll meet you two later," Luxanna said before hurrying inside. She took the letter, walked straight into a deserted corridor and pried open the envelope.

Who have you told?

A singular sentence, a sight that somehow startled her.

It was her father's handwriting, there was no doubt about that, the lack of signature made apparent the fact that Cepheus Black was trying to remain cryptic, but why? Luxanna couldn't quite figure out the implications, so she read the note a second time, and then a third, staring into each individual letter as if willing the text to reveal its secret; Who have you told?

As if on cue, a clunking of footsteps sounded behind her and Moody's voice boomed out, full of contempt, a clear indication that she had been found out.

Potter, she realised in an instant.

"Come with me," Moody instructed. Before she could stash the envelope away in her pocket, he seized it; his natural eye frantically scanned the page—his magical eye, her person. Once again, Luxanna's hand jumped up to her neck where Frost was curled up and she cursed internally.

As soon as they had reached his office, Moody slammed the door shut. Without a word, he walked over to a plain wooden door at the back of the room and swung it open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into the depths below.

"Follow me," he ordered gruffly, not waiting to see if she complied.

Luxanna hesitated for a moment, then trailed after him. The stairs creaked under their weight, and the air grew cooler and mustier with each step. At the bottom, they entered a cavernous underground room. It was dark, save for a few flickering candles casting long, eerie shadows. The room was cluttered with shelves and cabinets crammed with strange, dark artefacts and cages holding small, sinister-looking creatures.

Moody turned to face her, his posture stiff and rigid, giving her a chill that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. She had her doubts about Moody, that much was true, but she had been far from ready to face them.

"I will explain exactly how this will go," he said, eyeing her in a decidedly serious manner. "You will write back to your father here, in my office. You will tell him that you don't know anything; you haven't breathed a word to anyone. You don't know what he is talking about. Understand? You will tell him that you won't be writing back for a while, busy with your studies and whatnot—I don't care. Make it look casual."

She merely blinked at him, barely able to conceive of what he was indirectly admitting to.

He seemed to interpret her blank expression as a sign that he should continue.

He circled around her, providing her with a chair, a book, a quill and parchment, the tip of which she could feel curling up her palm as she clenched her fist. She wrote slowly, her fingers ice cold and barely complying to her command. Once her words were complete, Moody took Noctis, who was still perched atop Luxanna's shoulder, eyeing the scene with caution.

"H-he only takes these biscuits," she said quickly, reaching into her pocket for the packet. At this, Moody's gaze quickly snapped to her hand, as if had been expecting her to reach for her wand instead. "I... I won't tell anyone. I promise," she said almost instinctively.

This was met with a snort. "I know you won't," he said. "Or else your father is in for a little trip to Azkaban. I know things about Cepheus Black that would make even the Dark Lord squirm in his seat. And I won't hesitate to reopen that case, believe me. He barely got away the first time, the snake," he added as an afterthought. Moody's lips curled into a sinister grin, baring two rows of yellowing teeth.

So, she thought, this is where the threats come in...

Luxanna's hands clutched around the handles of the chair, feeling as though she might collapse in on herself at any moment. As if he were reading her mind, Moody's voice grew colder, crueller, the snarl more evident. "The only reason he still has a head is because he listened to me... Who do you think will get to him first, huh? The Ministry?" he offered, clearly amused by the situation. "The Dark Lord?"

Luxanna only looked on, mute, incapable of anything but the most basic responses. The looming image of her father brutally killed, tortured or rotting in some cell—despite all their differences over the years—was enough to make her eyes water. It would all be entirely her fault, too; had she kept her mouth shut, this would not be happening.

"The tribunal will be delighted to finally have Black in their clutches, no doubt. Nice little addition to their arsenal—and they'll have their way with him, too, get him to give up the others... He'll comply, of course. A family man, your father. But then they'll feed him to the Dementors anyway." He laughed. The sound made her stomach turn. "The other side's an entirely different story, though," he added darkly. Perhaps he figured that Luxanna's own mind was more than capable of filling in the blanks, because he did not elaborate.

"Now, as for that actual snake around your neck," he said abruptly, deciding that she was sufficiently cowed. "Well... play by the rules and I might not mention it to the staff. Illegal pets are nasty business. Do we have an understanding, then?"

She nodded before standing up. Her legs seemed to carry her automatically out of the underground room. When they reached his office, Moody sat at his desk, and Luxanna made a run for the door.

"Go," he said, "Your owl will stay with me."

"A shame," she could hear him say behind her, more to himself than anything else. "I thought we were getting along, but you had to go and pry."

Right as she stepped out of the room and his office, she chanced one last glance at Moody; Above the chair in which he sat, the Foe-glass flickered in the dim light of the office, a pair of piercing blue eyes and silver hair staring back at her.

It took an entire afternoon for Luxanna to process what had happened. When she had next seen Alex, pale and shaky as she was, she had to suffer a torrent of concerned questions, none of which she could provide an answer to. She had finally convinced him to drop it by declaring that the matter was strictly between her and her father, and she would not betray her family. Of course, he did not seem convinced, but in the end, she had succeeded in reassuring him that her word was bond. The subject had been closed, and Luxanna had done her best to shoo Alex away, desperate to return to the privacy of her sanctuary to deal with her predicament.

Luxanna plopped down into the armchair, and with a deep sigh she clutched her head in her hands. The whole ordeal had worn her out. Moody—a Death Eater? How did her father never find out? They worked side by side for years, he had been under Cepheus's nose this entire time, disguised merely by an alias. Was this one of those 'This is not something I want you to trouble yourself with' sort of things, as Cepheus would often put it? No, but then he would not have warned her in the first place... Cepheus always made it seem so very... black and white, when he, as a father, was often the very model of grey.
"It looks like we were right," said Frost once they finally arrived in the chamber.

"You were right, you mean? Frost…" Luxanna said in a small voice, "I know what you're thinking… I should have realised it sooner, should have listened to you…"

"No, I was going to sssay that…" Frost interjected, but Luxanna cut her off.

"I've met him before. Martin Mulciber. That week when Father took me to the World Cup, when I saw the Mark, I know you read about the attacks, I know you overheard me talking to Father… Well, it was him. Moody."

"Oh no… Luksss… I knew I should have come with you," she said bitterly. "I'm so sorry, child."

"It's not your fault. You couldn't have come, there were too many security enchantments. And even if you were there, I don't think you could have helped me, Frost. Besides," Luxanna plucked a strand of skin from her lips before continuing, "I wouldn't've wanted you to, uh, see that…"

Frost said nothing, perhaps deeming Luxanna's state too fragile for words of comfort, and Luxanna was thankful for it, for Frost, who was perhaps the only one who understood, and who didn't pry or question her, who had always been honest with her, unlike her father. She wanted to channel her resentment at him, like always, but found herself unable to—the only person to blame, after all, was herself. How was she supposed to contact him now, anyway, to let him know that they would both be in danger if he pursued an investigation? What sort of information did Moody have about her father, anyway? I know things about Cepheus Black that would make even the Dark Lord squirm in his seat... The words rang in her head. What could possibly be worse than being a Death Eater?

"Frost, I think I have to use the spell that my father taught me, there's—"

"Don't. Even. Think. About it," replied Frost.

Luxanna sighed again. That's right, there was a chance that Moody knew about the spell… he could intercept it. The only thing left for it was to pray that Cepheus might read between the lines of her latest letter and guess that something was not quite right.

Then there was Potter.

"Potter..." she began, but found herself unable to finish the sentence. Who on earth had he told? The idiot—the wretched idiot! Luxanna let out a shrill giggle in reaction to the absurdity of her situation. After dismissing her as a liar, he actually went and told somebody of her so-called nonsensical suspicions? Moody must be relying on this too—the truth that not a single student at Hogwarts believed Luxanna Black's lies—that were she ever to tell somebody, she would be dismissed as quickly as before. As a Black, her fate was already set.

"Don't blame the boy," said Frost. "Perhaps he was overheard..."

"Overheard? Overheard speaking to whom? He was not supposed to tell anybody!" insisted Luxanna, rising from her chair and pacing back and forth across the room.

Then she heard it—a noise, barely audible, but she heard it—like the clicking of heels against pavement—that made Luxanna stop pacing. Her hand reached instinctively for her wand and as she held it out in the direction of the noise, frozen, barely moving, barely breathing, a surge of terror rushed through her. All of her senses sharpened as she frantically scanned the surroundings, searching for the source. Was somebody spying on her?

"What is it?" Frost whispered.

Luxanna said nothing, but began creeping toward the entrance of the chamber, eyes glued to the great metal barrier, which she had left slightly ajar on her way in.

"Lux, you are imagining it," said Frost moments later. That was the last thing Luxanna needed to hear—that she was going insane. A small niggling of irritation crept into her, directed at Frost's dismissal of her worries.

She continued to move forward, peering in the shadows that pooled in every corner of the room, searching for a hidden threat. But there was nothing. Only silence that hung heavy over the space, tense and uncomfortable, as if mocking her fears. As if testing her sanity.

There's nobody there, she thought despite herself, a thought that was far from comforting. When she finally made it to the threshold, she looked around.

Her hand, still clutching her wand, remained in a half-extended position—doubtful. The only explanation was that she had fallen prey to her own mind games. There's nothing there... You're imagining it... With that thought in mind, she heaved a sigh and allowed her wand hand to relax. A faint clicking noise emanated from the direction of her left, and for a moment, she thought it must be some sort of animal, but once she strained her eyes Luxanna realised it was just liquid that had been dripping from one of the pipes. A trick of the mind, nothing more.