THE FIRE BURNT a trail of destruction across the campsite; dozens of screaming witches and wizards scattered by, blurred beneath the rising coils of smoke. Nobody knew who had done it, but the flames that steadily consumed everything in sight would soon leave no evidence at all.

She was running. The camp was ablaze behind her. From the shadows, she glimpsed an approaching figure—perhaps one of the organisers? Maybe some of the guards, hurrying to try to save what they could from the burning scene. But when she rounded the last tent, she came face to face with him. She gasped again as she saw his face—or rather, the mask which concealed it: a malevolent visage beneath which lurked something truly evil.

Luxanna Black had seen a mask like that before, on her own father's face. A relic of a dark patronage. Everybody knew that the respectable Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Cepheus Black, had in his time been one of You-Know-Who's supporters, but as it was, Cepheus was the sort of man who revealed about as much to his family as he did to the public, and Luxanna hated him for it. Mind you, it was not something he had ever intended for his daughter to see, she knew that, but her mind somehow still contrived to make sense of the lies: here was another piece of her shattered past. Another token of her family's tragedy. One more reminder of the burden thrust upon her from a very young age.

This revelation left her reeling. She had known that her father's life involved more than 'business as usual', but she hadn't—until the reality was staring her right in the face—realised quite how much. All of a sudden her family seemed more foreign to her than ever.

Her hand raced to her wand, but her rival was quicker, seizing her wrist and yanking her towards him. He glared into her eyes and then laughed, seeming almost pleased by the fear which rose within her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, moving in closer until she felt his breath through the mask's cavities upon her skin.

"Let me go!" she demanded, but her voice barely registered above the noise of the chaos behind them. Luxanna's gaze darted nervously over his shoulder, searching for help—for her father, even now—but it was futile and she knew it, because when she'd rushed from their tent in anger over the argument they had been having, Luxanna made completely sure that he didn't follow her.

"I won't let you touch me," she said defiantly, trying to push herself back away from the stranger.

"But I am already touching you," he said, the smirk audible in his voice.

In this precarious position, trapped against a darkening sky, it finally dawned on Luxanna that she was entirely on her own for the very first time. That it was her turn to pay the toll of her family's past. She took her chance when she saw a couple more of his companions approaching: by aiming a swift kick at her assailant's knees, she managed to weaken his grip for a split second, allowing her to slip away from his grasp. The man swung around, startled by the interruption; Luxanna ducked beneath his outstretched arm and scrambled to her feet, her wand drawn and ready.

Once she was able to size up the scene however, it was clear to Luxanna that she was now heavily outnumbered, that her hand was shaking, and that she probably looked about as helpless as she felt.

"What've you got there, Mulciber?" chimed in another, slightly taller masked figure as it approached. "She's pretty."

"Pretty enough to be worth getting burnt alive for?" said a third member of the group, a woman this time. "By Merlin, you're desperate. Can't get a woman on your own so you've got to go tormenting little girls?"

"Hey, wasn't my idea to start a fire!"

Mulciber sniggered. "Ain't nothing yet, bint," he said, raising his wand once more.

"Suit yourself," she replied before retreating back to the woods, diminishing the last of Luxanna's hope.

"Yeah, piss off already, we deserve some kind of reward," said the taller man, dismissing his female colleague.

In an instant, Mulciber rounded on him. "Go fetch your own, bastard. I saw her first," he commanded, brandishing his wand at his companion. The next few things happened in quick succession: a loud crack rang out through the air as Mulciber unleashed the spell, sending the other man flying into the stray bushes, and then the tip of his wand turned to face Luxanna once more. She could not react, whether out of fear or for lack of combative skill, she didn't know, but she was suddenly flung up into the air, all the blood rushing to her head as her skirt slid down her knees.

She yelped in surprise, finding that her wand hand was now empty and that her assailant's hands were upon her, a gloved finger smearing a delicate caress across her pale face, drawing invisible lines along her jaw. She tried to speak, but words wouldn't come, nor strength to fight back. Just as quickly as he had reached for her, Mulciber jerked away, and Luxanna pried her eyes open.

There was a flash of light, and then, from behind the dark clouds emerged a great serpentine form, its sinuous strands slowly uncoiling themselves from inside the maw of a gaping skeletal face, ready to consume the evening sky. Mulciber watched the scene unfold with near reverence; Luxanna could not pry her eyes away either—the creature's presence hung thick in the air, bathing the scene in a malevolent green light, and claiming her with a strangely familiar sense of dread.

For a moment all was silent, until a voice called out from behind the trees.

"Mulciber! What are you doing here?"

The cloaked figure of a man stepped forward into view, assessing the scene with his wand drawn. "Are you blind?" he asked slowly, the derision clear on his tongue. "Or simply daft?"

"Sir? But you said we were allowed to..."

"Now's not the time!" he bellowed, his voice cold and accusatory. A voice that Luxanna for a second thought she recognised, but it was difficult to tell through the obstruction of the mask. He continued on, clearly enjoying the sound of his own authority, "Always the same trouble with you, isn't it? Always choosing the most inopportune moment... Do you not see the Mark? Did you not hear the—" But the moment he laid eyes on Luxanna, he cut himself short.

"Mulciber..." The initial confidence of his tone was replaced by a quiver of apprehension, or maybe even fear as he stared Luxanna down. Two fingers came to clutch her jaw once more, lifting her head to each side and inspecting her features. "Mulciber, you bloody fool... Don't you know who this is?"

"No, I— Why?"

"This is Cepheus Black's daughter!"

A moment of silence elapsed as Mulciber's mistake settled in, before the familiar voice spoke again. "You will release her at once, and you will pray that Black is at least somewhat fond of you—which I very much doubt myself—or you will reap the consequences."

"Yes, I-I... Yes." With a wave of his wand, the invisible tendril around Luxanna's ankle loosened, releasing her.

She fell to the ground with a painful thud, shivering as she staggered to her knees. Her fingers dug into the dirt below, and once the two figures dispersed into the smoke ahead, Luxanna let out a violent shriek, crushing the dried leaves between her fists.

Above her, the great beast loomed in the night sky, an unrelenting reminder of what's to come.

Cepheus did not so much as pay a glance towards his daughter before he left to work that day, nor during the evening after, where they would gather around the dinner table together as a family. The sheer vastness of the Blacks' dining room left a large enough gap to echo the subtle message of avoidance. Luxanna's heart sank every time she caught a glimpse of her father, who sat hunched over his half-eaten meal with his lips set in a strict line. All of the windows were shuttered completely against the fading daylight outside, so that no sunlight could penetrate, obscuring the fragile mood which had settled over the house earlier that day. And as always, when the lights were low and the conversation was subdued, it seemed to Luxanna that the house was every bit as lifeless as her father.

"Will you excuse me?" Cepheus broke the silence as he pushed back his chair, no doubt ready to escape to the confines of his study.

Luxanna and her mother exchanged glances. "Go," she urged. "He'll want to speak to you."

"But I... Yes, Mum." The truth was, speaking about the... incident, was the last thing that Luxanna wanted. Voicing the matter meant breathing life into it, cementing it into reality and inviting it into her life where it most certainly did not belong.

But Luxanna obeyed her mother, just like how she always had. Ever since her father showed up that one fateful day and decided that they would be moving to England. Into this dreaded place.

That was another thing—the manor itself. The house was grand; splendid. With vast expanses of open space, tasteful furnishings and artwork adorning every wall, ornate wooden floors and vaulted ceilings with chandeliers hanging overhead, luxuries that Luxanna had never experienced before. But no matter how much her mother polished and fussed over the décor, or bustled about in the garden, no matter how hard her father worked, or how hospitable the house elves were, the place was hardly home. There would always be that air of awkward tension in the air, a sensation that was especially sharp in moments such as these, when Luxanna yearned for anything and everything to remind her of home, yet instead received nothing but apathy.

As Luxanna reached her father's office, she heard the familiar sounds of paperwork shuffling and sighing coming from within, and gave a resigned sigh as she knocked on the door.

The place was untidy. Nearly every wall was concealed by tall, ornamental bookshelves filled to capacity, stacked from floor to ceiling. What books didn't fit inside the shelves were left scattered on the floor, along with countless discarded scraps of paper that could have only been part of his ever-growing list of notes and theories. On the table in front of him was an assortment of stationery and writing implements, next to a rather foreboding stack of paper, presumably belonging to the official business that needed tending to today—namely the World Cup incident. What caught her eye however—and what was likely the only orderly thing amidst the whole chaos—was the neat assortment of empty bottles on his desk, next to which stood one full, recently opened bottle of Firewhisky.

"Sit." He waved his hand idly at the chair in front of his desk, and she did as instructed.

"The Dark Lord is planning his return," he blurted out after a moment. His hand fell on the newspaper before him, from within which peered back the familiar sight; the great beastly serpent. It writhed about on the page in black and white, its gaze as if following Luxanna's.

His words took a moment to register, but when they did, Luxanna felt her blood grow hot, almost immediately. "No... The snake? That was... that was Him?"

"I'm afraid so," Cepheus said, and for the first time, he met her gaze. "I know what you're thinking, but I have a feeling it's not going to be that way this time," he said, interrupting her train of thought.

"How do you know? What's different this time?" she was quick to ask.

"The mark on my forearm is becoming clearer. I know you've seen it before so there's no point in hiding it from you." Cepheus sighed. "You must know that it's something I regret immensely."

So you say, Luxanna was close to blurting out, but she bit her tongue before the words could slip out. "And? What does it mean?"

"It means he's regaining his power."

Luxanna felt sick to her stomach. Her trembling hands clutched the black fabric of her dress, fingers even whiter than they already were. This can't be happening... She wanted to scream—at him, at her father. How dare you? she wanted to say. How dare you bring us here—it's your fault. You worked for him. You did this. We already had to flee once, and now it's happening again, all because of you.

"I see," she said finally.

"I want you to stay away from that boy, Harry Potter."

"Oh, that won't be a problem. I have nothing to discuss with the likes of him."

"I also meant the mockery, Luxanna. I know you're not fond of him, but it's time to put an end to that childish bickering," Cepheus said knowingly. "I don't want you anywhere near anybody who is in any way associated with the Dark Lord, are we clear?"

"Mhm," hummed Luxanna, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cepheus raised an eyebrow, prompting a terse 'Yes,' from Luxanna.

"I had half a mind to send you back to Italy. To Giubiana school. But your mother decided against it. 'Best keep her where you can see her,' she said to me. And she was right, you're still the safest here with us."

A moment of silence elapsed, one where Luxanna's mind reeled with numerous comebacks to throw at her father. Meanwhile, he poured himself another glass of whisky and rubbed at his temples in agitation. She considered for a moment telling him about the snakes—her long-kept childhood secret. But the idea was dismissed as quickly as it came, for fear of the trouble it may stir. Or perhaps lying had just grown so habitual; the secrets sat all too comfortably within her body. No, better to stick to the well-worn path, she thought.

When Cepheus's next words eventually emerged, they were dull, tired, and tinged with a slight slur of somebody who had too much to drink. "About what happened last night... Lux, I..."

It had not even been the crack in his voice that stirred Luxanna in that moment, but the mention of her nickname. Luxanna was originally named Lux by her mother, but Cepheus didn't take to it. He'd said it didn't sound English enough. Carina insisted that Lux was the appropriate name for her daughter given her fair complexion and pale hair, which dearly reminded her of brightness and light. As a compromise, they agreed that Luxanna was the best choice. Her mother continued to call her Lux, and her father Luxanna.

"I've... located the assailants. The one who..." his sentence trailed off. Cepheus cleared his throat before continuing, "His name is Martin Mulciber. I've worked with him before, though never in the same service unit. Deviant of a man—it's not the first time he's done something like this."

"Have you arrested him, then?"

"No. There were no official charges, no eyewitnesses. Besides... it would've been foolish to do so... should the question of my loyalty ever come into question. But, I've made sure that he's paid the price."

"And what is the price?" asked Luxanna through gritted teeth.

"Listen to me," said Cepheus sternly. "I'll never let anything happen to you. Not again."

Her anger eventually subsided, dissolving into something more of a dull... discomfort at this newfound display of emotion. Cepheus stared at the contents of his glass for a while, as if watching a painful memory unfold within its surface, playing out all over again before his bloodshot eyes. Luxanna took it upon herself to bring him out of his reverie by tapping her fingernails on the handles of the armchair repeatedly. He soon realised her presence and resumed his assertive position.

"Right, I take it your Hogwarts letter arrived this morning?" he asked back in his regular tone.

"Yes, Father, and I have been made Prefect, if that's what you wanted to know," she said, her posture relaxing slightly. This change of subject was welcomed by both of them, as evidenced by the sudden spike in discourse.

"I am, indeed. Excellent work. Well done." He nodded in approval. "Very well, in that case, there are a few things you ought to know."

Luxanna listened carefully as he spoke, talking of his own prefecture at Hogwarts, about how important it was for a figure of authority to judge their peers evenly, despite her house's reputation for favouritism. And of course, about how greatly her behaviour and her prowess at school reflected upon her family. "There is something else," he said once he was finished recalling a story about a clash against a group of Hufflepuffs he and a fellow prefect once got into, which resulted in a month's worth of detention.

"Yes?"

He hesitated. "As a precaution, and strictly as a precaution," he began saying, and Luxanna immediately tensed up, "I believe you should have a means of contacting me, should you ever need to."

"The school is very safe... I don't think there's any need for..."

"This is a charm I developed when I was around your age," he interrupted, "It'll enable you to reach out to me silently. Wordlessly, even. It's not complicated. I think with a little bit of practice you'll have no trouble mastering it."

"But..."

Cepheus retrieved his wand from the sleeve of his robe—this is where he had taught her to keep it, too—joined the tips of their wands together, linking them, and then demonstrated the incantation. "The tricky bit is not the wandwork itself, but the intent. There needs to be intent. In order for me to receive the message, you will have to picture me in your mind's eye as keenly as possible, understand? You try now."

The tip of Luxanna's wand met with her right temple, where it followed Cepheus's movement as he had explained it. Then she pictured her father the way he was sitting right in front of her and, surely enough, moments later the end of his wand shone light blue, announcing that the signal had made its way through.

"Yes, good. Very good. I want you to practise while you are still at home, and keep in mind I won't always be there to pose for you, you need to be able to do it at a distance."

Luxanna nodded.

"Well then, it is late and you must sleep. Something tells me the rest of this week will be very long and tiring for you. Your mother will not rest until she finds you the perfect dress for the Yule Ball."

"The Yule Ball?"

"As wizards it's important to keep to our traditions. And the Yule Ball is exactly that. Tradition. It is supposed to be a... romantic event. Though nowadays... in this day and age, I expect it's little more than drunken debauchery." Luxanna eyed the bottle on her father's own table, admiring the irony. "Still, I am not saying you shouldn't enjoy yourself. Just... don't get too carried away. Oh, there'll be a tournament too, but I'll not spoil the details for you."

With those words, he walked her to the door. Perhaps it had been the drink, or perhaps a carelessness brought on by the stress that had made Cepheus forget to close the door as she left, but the next thing that Luxanna knew her feet were leading her right back to her father's study. She peered through the gap in the doorframe, her curiosity getting the better of her. And then she saw it, in his hand—the golden pendant.

Luxanna craned for a better view, now feeling beyond intrigued. It was nothing like any sort of jewellery her mother owned. There was a sort of... air of grandeur about it. Something timeless; significant. She found it difficult to pry her eyes off of it, and so did Cepheus, given the way he was studying the item in complete concentration (he did not even notice the creak of the door when she accidentally brushed against it). Finally, the intense scrutiny ended and Cepheus turned around, revealing a thoughtful look on his face. In his open palm he held the pendant; what looked to be emeralds adorned the oval surface, each a brilliant green hue and arranged so as to form the unmistakable letter 'S'.