Welcome back to 'Black Luminary'!

Considering it's been some time since my last update, I thought I'd give you guys a very short summary of the story so far, just so you don't lose the plot. I still recommend that you check out my prior chapters if you think you can't follow as I will not be able to emphasise some of the more subtle plot points and developments without spoiling the whole thing. This chapter, in particular, relies heavily on rather...consistent changes in the behaviour of some characters.

Also, please don't hate Harry too much. Be patient! The next two chapters will reveal everything regarding his actions in a, I hope, satisfactory way. No further lengthy introductions or interludes lie in wait in the foreseeable future.

Without further ado, let's begin with the summary:

Harry Black, adopted scion of Arcturus III of the House of Black, finally starts his long-awaited first year at Hogwarts in a general climate of hostility and antagonism. Forced to watch his every step, a chance encounter with Hermione, whom he previously befriended on the train, results in him fleeing through the castle. Daphne Greengrass, his 'cousin', starts a mad dash through the school in an effort to find Harry, who turns out to have collapsed in an old storeroom due to some unknown magical condition. Not willing to accept an evasive answer, Daphne finally forces Harry to reveal that has to cope with a new and strange perception of magic that threatens to overwhelm him at every step should he ever lose control.

When they finally make it back to the Slytherin common room, Harry is shocked to find his fellow Slytherin Theodore Nott bloody and sprawled over his own trunk, obviously murdered. With the help of Cranky, the Black's strange head elf, and Professor Snape, Harry just barely manages to avoid the attention of the DMLE, who are revealed to be quite eager to lay blame at the Black's doorstep. Despite his legally proven innocence, Harry finds himself subjected to even more open hostility that results in him spending a large portion of the following months in the care of Madam Pomfrey, whom he manages to convince to teach him the art of healing. Seizing a chance, Harry also invites the strange, beautiful and terrifying new Defence teacher, Professor Aenor Rose, to the grand ball the Blacks traditionally hold on Yule.

On the way back to one of the Black's estate, Harry's new-found ability once again threatens his very life, as he shows an adverse reaction to the ancient and usually infallible wards of his own family. After a brief spell of recovery, Harry spends most of the winter holidays and all of the actual ball with Aenor Rose, the teacher his politically shrewd grandfather has invited to stay over for the whole holidays without consulting Harry.

Confronted with the expected questions regarding Harry and Aenor's rather inappropriate friendship, Harry storms out of the headmaster's office in a fit of rage - right into the waiting hands of assailants unknown.

In the wake of the tragic and near fatal ambush set for Harry, the resolute pair of Tracey and Draco force Hermione and Daphne to bury the hatchet and form an alliance of sorts to battle the hidden foes within and outisde Slytherin. Draco, in particular, starts a team with the rather reluctant Hermione, enlisting her help to review hundreds of illegal dossiers of their fellow pupils in exchange for brief lessons about pure-blood culture for Hermione's benefit. Arcturus, meanwhile, seething with rage at the serious attempt on his grandson's life, publicly invokes an ancient law that allows his family to legally punish any future attackers with lethal force until the perpetrator is revealed. But just when Harry is finally released from the infirmary, one of his invisible opponents seems to strike again, this time in the form of a letter Daphne's grandmother sends which expressly forbids her any contact with Harry under the threat of taking her out of Hogwarts and Britain...

14 days or Road to Ruin, parts I and II

'Startling new evidence concerning recent shadowy activities of House Black in Hogwarts has come to our attention, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. It is all but common knowledge that a great many dubious dealings take place behind Hogwarts' prestigious facade. We have, so it sadly seems, already come to terms with the house politics, agendas, interventions and ambitions plaguing our honoured halls of learning. Our conscience has been dulled by the never-ending, bizarre plans and ploys polluting what should, by right, be an innocent place of learning for our children, many of whom stumble into our world, nary an idea of what awaits them in their youthful minds. Yet even though parents continue to entrust their children to us and our famous school in good faith, we sit idly by and let them learn side by side with well-bred miniatures of their plotting parents. But why?

Minister Crouch indicated as recently as last month that, even though "Headmaster Dumbledore has, of course, my personal trust and confidence, we grow wary of the social environment the school seems to facilitate as of recent decades. In this regard, we aim to put a stop to the political parties and houses that misuse our premiere educational establishment as a recruiting ground for collaboration."

In light of these ambitious and long overdue proclamations, I personally feel it is my duty to draw attention to the highly questionable events of the past weeks at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where an allegedly failed political deal resulted in the hospitalisation of several students, one of whom had to be treated with great delicacy for weeks. Even worse, if possible, than the malicious manhandling, it seems that Harry Black, youngest scion of the disgraced House of Black, seems to have been at the heart of the incident. Considering the shady history of the Blacks, suspicions inevitably fell onto their youngest, yet the moment several popular political figures called for an investigation into the incident, three older students seem to have taken the fall for Harry Black, getting temporarily suspended from school, allegedly confessing in a way that an informant described to us as "very well rehearsed".

The Prophet understands that even though the events could be linked to the infamous Prince of Black, no punishment-or any consequence whatsoever for that matter-has been issued. It comes as no further surprise that two of those that were sacrificed for the unholy ambitions of the most notorious Slytherin in decades were Muggle-borns, the other a half-blood. We are appalled that those the Blacks would rob of their rights were even forced to take the blame, no doubt prompted to do so with promises of riches and influence - or maybe yet more sinister dealings?

We of the Prophet demand that swift and just actions be taken, especially in light of Arcturus Black's scandalous proclamation regarding matters of his house, to ensure...'

'As popular as always, mate,' said Draco, contemplating the article in question with a smirk.

'Thank you,' replied Harry sarcastically. 'It is gratifying that the Prophet thinks so highly of me. It's not easy to have your enemy take the blame for your failed scheme, after all.'

'Doesn't this infuriate or even worry you, Harry?' Hermione eyed the paper with disgust. 'I know it's a lot of rubbish, of course, but some will believe everything that's written in the paper. Don't you think this will reinforce the way people already think of you?'

The three Slytherins sat at the far end of their house table, hoping for as much privacy as the Great Hall allowed, which was, in the best of cases, hardly any at all.

'And what would you have me do?' Harry asked with slight irritation. 'Even if I intended to make a public statement, I would never be able to convince the Prophet to print it. Most here have listened to this kind of news for years.'

'I don't know, man,' muttered Draco, apparently thoughtful.

Harry arched an eyebrow critically. 'You can't be serious...'

'Nah.' Draco waved a hand impatiently. 'No, not about correcting your hilarious image of the devil in disguise; you'll totally have to live with that your entire life. It's Skeeter! I think she's getting old, soft, desperate for money or...'

'I am sure I don't want you to finish that sentence.'

'What?! I guess she's a little old for you, Harry. But seeing as most witches would rather curse themselves than marry you, I think you should consider every opportunity that presents itself. Maybe she's into younger men.'

Harry slowly put down his cutlery with a vacant and slightly green expression. 'Thank you for ruining my breakfast.'

Hermione blinked in confusion, though she too looked faintly disgusted. 'You mean she's usually even worse?'

'Oh, yes!' Draco answered enthusiastically. 'I think my all-time favourites were "unremarkable, pampered brat", "brain-washed political catastrophe in training" and "twisted pet of monsters".' He smacked his lips, eyes closed in silent bliss like a connoisseur presented with the immensely difficult and equally pleasing choice between several quality vintages. 'I think I still prefer the first one.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I'm so glad it serves to amuse you, at least.'

Hermione ignored Draco's antics, returning her gaze to the article in question again. 'You really believe she's toned it down? Still, why would they print it at all? I know she didn't outright lie, as far as I know, but she still puts her credibility at risk if someone asks the wrong kind of questions, doesn't she? I mean, it's all twisted and half-truths.'

Harry had to muffle his laughter. 'Credibility?'

Draco, on the other hand, looked vaguely impressed. 'You know, Granger. You're starting to think like a Slytherin. Maybe you aren't a total waste of my time, in the end.'

Hermione scoffed, though Harry privily presumed that she was, at least in part, quite pleased with Draco's rather peculiar 'compliment'. He shook his head, slightly amused by the thought that both Draco and Hermione shared the same weakness. He would have to be careful to never divulge this particular epiphany though; both would likely not appreciate being compared to one another.

'On the other hand,' Draco continued, clearly ignoring both of their reactions, 'it's really obvious that someone put a bit of pressure on the Prophet. If I were to guess, I'd say it has to do with...that.'

Hermione looked puzzled, but Harry's mood darkened. 'Yeah, well, if you've all now decided whether or not I'm the target of a new political scheme or desperate journalists, I think I'll head to the library for a bit before classes. I really have other things to worry about right now.' He looked a bit further down the table where Daphne sat beside her best friend, moodily stabbing at her meal, dark shadows under her eyes. It had taken a lot of convincing, but-eventually-Tracey and Harry had convinced her to, once again, keep her distance for the fortnight. Despite Daphne's tantrum, it remained a fact that the Head of House Greengrass was undoubtedly the kind of person to do what she thought was best for her family, even against said family's explicit wishes.

Draco and Hermione watched him get up and leave without another word.

'Oops, forgot about that.' Draco grinned ruefully.

'Hm?' Hermione asked, her gaze riveted on the retreating form of her clearly irritated friend.

'He's kind of grumpy in the morning. I doubt he's seriously annoyed with us, but he really prefers to spend his mornings in silence.'

'Is that true?' said Hermione, a faint smile playing about her lips. 'The mysterious, calm and collected Harry Black?'

Her interlocutor merely shrugged. 'Whatever. But stop your gawking! A bunch of people are looking, you know?'

Hermione looked down, embarrassed. 'Oh, right. Sorry.'

'No matter. Anyway, please do turn up tonight. There's something you need to know, and this isn't the place to talk about it.'

'So you mean to tell me that we'll have to hasten our "research" and find the ultimate perpetrator in 14 days now?' Hermione's shocked eyes almost pleaded for Draco to contradict her.

Draco calmly stirred his tea, inhaling the fumes with closed eyes. 'Basically, yes. But considering we've wasted almost the entire day by now, only 13 days remain, you know.' In one graceful motion, he brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. He sighed contentedly.

Hermione stomped her foot. 'How can you be so calm about this?! We have so much to do! And all of this had to happen shortly before the end of the year, too. This will really disrupt the time I set aside for studying.'

'It's still weeks and weeks until the tests, you know?' Draco repeated himself exasperatedly.

'We've talked about this, Draco,' Hermione raised her finger. 'It's always better to be prepared. If it turns out that you allotted too much time for reviewing, you can still repurpose it for something else.'

'Just don't include me in your insane schedule!'

Hermione clicked her tongue in mild annoyance. 'You'll see. When the tests come and I beat you in all of them, you'll rethink your stance next year!'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'If you beat me in all the tests, I'll stick to your arduous work ethic next year, I promise.'

'Really?' Hermione replied, the fires of ambition burning in her eyes. 'You think you can beat me in Transfiguration? I'll have you know that it's been two weeks since the last time you got the spellwork down faster than me,' she said smugly.

Draco's eye twitched. 'Let me worry about that, Granger. But we have better things to do right now.'

Mumbling something about 'strange priorities for a student', Hermione sat down again, pulling some random parchment from the huge stack that, she privately suspected, kept growing overnight. Lost in thought, she chewed on her quill until a new thought distracted her from the dullness of the task at hand. 'You didn't tell me why we're in such a hurry all of a sudden, Draco. Shouldn't we change the way we go about this when our time is in such short supply?'

He didn't even look up. 'No, I did not and will not tell you why. But I have discussed the matter with Harry, and we have come to the conclusion that our current course of action will...yield the best results - in the end.'

'Would it really hurt you to show a bit of trust in me now and then?' she asked quietly.

'That's neither here nor there, Granger. The problem is not mine to share. Therefore, I will not.'

'Does it have something to do with Greengrass moping around and Tracey desperately trying to distract her?'

'Granger?' the Malfoy interrupted her abruptly.

'Ehm, yes, Draco?' asked Hermione meekly. She recognised the tone.

'Now would be a good time to shut up and get back to work,' he said coolly, not even looking up from his own considerably larger stack.

Harry awoke with a start, the blood-smeared figure of Nott etched into his vision in painful detail one more time. His stomach turned uncomfortably. Swallowing the rising bile and acid, he called for Minnie in a shaky voice, not surprised in the least to see the sweet, if overzealous, elf appear in an instant.

'Master Harry called for Minnie?' The elf seemed to positively glow at the prospect of being able to serve, radiating an admittedly slightly pathological willingness to help in any way imaginable: her big eyes were friendly and upturned; her uniform straight, carefully ironed and spotlessly clean. Yet when she truly laid eyes on her young master, her ears drooped slightly, and she whispered in her trademark squeaky voice, 'Is everything alright, Master Harry? You is looking not so good.'

'Water, please, Minnie,' Harry croaked hoarsely.

The servant of House Black vanished and reappeared with slightly more noise than what could be regarded as polite, especially given Harry's current whereabouts. Looking around (and especially down at the book that, to his embarrassment, was now covered in drool), he surmised that he'd fallen asleep in the library again. Tapping the book absent-mindedly with his wand to remove the stains, he wondered how often this had happened since his long stay in the library. I suppose my sleeping pattern is completely messed-up. Smiling gratefully at the elf, he gulped down the exquisitely cold drink. 'Thank you, Minnie.'

She looked up at him in concern, her tiny hands resting against her cheeks in a disturbingly motherly gesture. 'Master Harry is sure that you is feeling better already, sir?'

Harry tried to smile reassuringly, though going by the elf's reaction it might have turned out to be more of a grin of grim determination. 'I'll be fine, Minnie. I promise I'll call you for anything should the need arise.'

The elf nodded sadly and disapparated with a loud crack. Harry suppressed a yawn, looking down on the object of his daily studies. He was getting there. He had to admit that it had turned out to be slightly more complex than he'd anticipated although he should probably have expected that, especially after Flitwick's words of caution.

Draco is doing everything humanly possible right now, probably, and Daphne... Harry sat up as if lightning had struck him. What am I doing moping around here? I need that spell! Otherwise, the whole plan is in jeopardy.

He closed the book, packed the writing tools and parchments that were spread out over the two tables he'd pushed together, and strode towards the library exit.

Harry was still deep in thought when he crossed the multitude of ever-moving staircases that made up a large portion of every student's daily routine. A cheerful body of students was ahead of him, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, presumably just leaving their Defence class. Harry squeezed his way through the throng, his hands in his robes gripping the wand so tightly that he felt his whole arm shake slightly in the effort of keeping up the tension. But everything seemed peaceful.

Students laughing, whining, boasting, their carefree voices ringing through the halls, filling the whole corridor with what Harry automatically labelled 'school atmosphere'. He relaxed slightly. The somewhat disturbing smell of some foul bog-dwelling creature wafted towards him, clearly stemming from further down the hallway. Relaxing his control on his mind, he suddenly started to perceive the faintest of currents underlying the foetid miasma. It was...magic, he was startled to realise, filled with intent, though of which kind he could not tell. Maybe the creature uses the malodour in some way? Still, if he didn't know better, he would have guessed that the stench was actually meant to cover up the traces of the magic it spread, as ridiculous as that assumption was. I don't know any people and precious few creatures able to perceive magic through...sniffing. Get serious, Harry!

Without any advance warning, an indescribably complex smell that faintly reminded him of mustard seeds filled the hall, originating from behind him. The corridor was still rather dim, yet Harry could have sworn it had shone in an eerie blue light for the briefest of seconds.

Acting purely on instinct, he turned on the spot, raising his wand, and battered the incoming spell towards the ceiling.

Harry stared numbly after the happily chatting group of his condisciples. Not a soul had turned his head.

He was still standing there, wand in his hand and arm outstretched, when he heard two sets of footsteps approaching. One, as it turned out, was Aenor, who had obviously just packed up her notes in the classroom. The second person, to his slight irritation, proved to be Snape.

'Is there a reason for your standing here like a statue, wand raised, Mr Black? Is this, perchance, some new form of dramatic acting?' Snape's lips curled in an unfriendly manner.

'One of those who just passed by threw a curse at me,' Harry answered in a mild trance. He really couldn't quite believe his own words.

Silence thundered through the corridor like a big cannon that hadn't fired even though everyone had been bracing for the noise. 'Are you quite sure, Mr Black?' Snape asked softly, his hostile undertone gone along with his sneer.

Wordlessly, Harry pointed towards the ceiling, where a small yet clearly distinguishable burn mark bore witness to his story.

Harry heard Snape clenching his teeth. 'Of all the foolish, degenerated things to do...'

'Did you see who cast the spell?' Aenor asked quietly.

'No,' Harry admitted, quite grateful that was the case.

'Would you have told your grandfather if you had?' She pressed the matter, eyeing him curiously.

Harry did not respond. Truthfully, he had been standing there, wondering about that, too. His grandfather could be a very generous man, kind to those he cherished, loving to his family. He was a fair man, too, and Harry was inwardly extremely proud that he'd never seen the man completely lose control of a situation or his temper. Most of his happy childhood memories revolved around the figure of his adopted grandfather; his inexhaustible patience, his willingness to go the extra mile wherever Harry was concerned, his uncompromising determination to do well by his family. But there was no doubt, absolutely not a single shred of doubt, in Harry's mind that Arcturus would stay true to his word and butcher the whole family of all those who That thought made Harry rather uncomfortable.

'If you are unharmed, I suggest you head towards your next class, Mr Black.' Snape's eyes flickered between the corridor and Harry.

'No. With your permission, Severus, I'd like to borrow Mr Black for a second.' Aenor suddenly laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and motioned for him start walking towards her office.

Snape looked like he was about to protest but then seemed to think better of it. 'As you will, Aenor. I shall have a word with Pomona regarding this...idiocy.'

Harry was forced into the chair, his head still a mess. 'Why would they do that? Surely they don't think Grandfather is joking?'

Aenor took a seat on the other side of her desk and leant back. 'No. They don't think at all, that is the problem here. In all likelihood, someone told the perpetrator that they shouldn't overthink the matter and just keep doing like before.'

'He'll kill them,' croaked Harry with an equal measure of dread and bewilderment. 'Grandfather will kill them all! Don't they understand?'

'And you care...why?' Aenor's voice was as cold and dark as the bottomless sea.

'I-I...' But Harry hesitated, desperate and at a loss for words. Then he sighed and slumped down. 'I just want to learn, Aenor. I don't need my life to get any more complicated than this...'

She seemed to relax and flashed him a brief smile. 'Understandable. But even though you may choose how to spend your time, who to befriend, what to aim for, and even what to forget, you may never be able to choose who to be, Harry. That goes doubly so for someone like you. And if you want my honest opinion, it could have been a lot worse.'

'You think so?' he asked sceptically.

'Well, imagine being a poor uppity wimp that nobody likes. I mean, at least you still got all those Galleons going for you.' She winked at him.

Harry couldn't help but snort a bit, returning something akin to a very weak smile. Straightening up, he examined his counterpart. 'Glad to see you're not being so distant any more. When you were visiting in the infirmary, I was half expecting you to call me Mr Black again, going by your tone alone.'

'Well, you know,' Aenor responded, her head slightly tilted. 'We're still at school, so there's that, and don't forget that...'

'Grandfather told you to distance yourself and keep an eye on me,' Harry interrupted her mercilessly, smirking a bit.

Aenor, apparently dropping all pretence, shrugged theatrically. 'He told you?'

'Not as such,' he returned, still grinning.

Aenor stared wordlessly at him, her expression sour. 'Well, I guess you also got that wit of yours going for you. See? You may be a bit snotty and the occasional wuss, but at least you're not as clueless as most of your fellow pupils.'

Harry laughed. 'I'm so glad you approve,' he returned sarcastically. 'So? What did you actually want, Aenor? I don't think you invited me here to keep my spirits up. Not that I don't appreciate it.'

'Oho? Are you doubting my honest concern here, dear Harry?' His Defence teacher leant further back, idly balancing her chair while half the legs were in the air.

'Not really, but I don't consider letting Snape in on more than necessary to be the smart option. Having considered this, I guessed you must have some more pressing business if you were willing to have him take notice of our private dealings.'

'Ha!' She exhaled dramatically. 'And this right here is why know-it-all brats are no fun.' She abandoned her balancing act and the dangling legs of her chair crashed onto the office floor with a loud snap. 'I wanted to ask you if you honestly think that plan of yours is such a good idea. You're playing with fire there, Harry. Are you really willing to risk a person just to get things done? She's got a temper, that one, and even should everything go smoothly, she'll throw a tantrum. A justified tantrum, I might add.'

Harry's face fell as if it had been subjected to a sudden increase in gravity. 'How do you even know about that?'

'I have my talents, Harry,' she answered vaguely, smiling suggestively.

His brows furrowed, he asked, 'Do you think anyone else knows? Dumbledore maybe?'

'I don't think so. But, then again, Dumbledore plays the long game. If he knows, he hasn't let anything slip.'

'I'm honestly surprised that it's you who asked me this,' Harry grumbled, slightly annoyed. 'Tracey and surprisingly Draco had their initial reservations, but never would I have thought that you would disapprove.'

She didn't answer, staring out of the window.

'Do you? Disapprove, I mean,' Harry insisted.

Aenor didn't look at him, her gaze still locked onto something apparently beyond the reach of her sight. 'I once did something comparable to what you're about to do. It...didn't work out the way I had planned.'

'So?' asked Harry, who was desperately trying to hide his nervousness at this point. 'Is that a yes or a no?'

Aenor sighed and finally turned to look at him. 'I'm not the best person to answer that question. I'm inclined to act in much the same way you do, but I can't pretend that there isn't some amount of regret still lingering.'

Harry fell silent.

'That doesn't mean that it will necessarily have to turn out that way for you. We're not quite the same and the bigger difference in the equation might be the other person.'

Harry kept silent, his expression not readable.

'In the end, just stick to whatever you perceive to be the right choice and don't hesitate. I can't say anything more.'

Harry nodded slowly. In truth, he had made up his mind long ago. It was regrettable, but sometimes a harsh lesson is what is needed. 'It is a hard choice, and it isn't fair. I'll never pretend otherwise. But I will stick to the plan. Everything is already set up.'

Aenor sighed and stood. 'I hope for your sake that this one turns out better. Just...stay safe this time, alright?'

Harry, smiling a bit, followed her lead and got up as well. 'I will. I'll keep her safe, too. I promise.'

'Like any gentleman should. Oh, by the way, your final Occlumency lesson will take place in the countryside. It is not...feasible to do it here. Once you pass, I'll also fulfil my part of our other bargain.'

'Feasible?' he repeated. That didn't sound ominous at all!

'Yes,' she answered tersely, looking him up and down, her brilliant eyes steely for once. 'I must warn you, though. I will give you no quarter for that test, despite my affiliation to your grandfather or our personal...understanding.'

'I'll bear that in mind,' he responded warily. Looks like I'll need to step up the training when this whole thing is resolved. I really don't want to fail that test.

'You better, Harry,' Aenor responded huskily to his thoughts, opening the door, not meeting his gaze. 'If you don't, it is likely that I'll end up killing you...' Harry silently passed her, yet he could still make out her pleading whisper. '...and your grandfather me.'

Hermione was chewing on her quill, her expression one of intense concentration, but the columns and rows before her still threatened to evade her, forcing her to blink rapidly. 'This is hopeless,' she cried out in desperation, her eyes falling on the still towering heaps of documents. 'We'll never be able to get through all of them!'

'If there's something in there,' Tracey answered, patting Hermione's hand, 'then it's not unreasonable to assume that we'll stumble upon it before we've finished it all.'

'You want to bet the outcome of this all on pure luck?' Hermione looked horrified. 'No, that's just not acceptable!' With gusto, she bent her bushy head back over the reports she was currently reviewing. 'Anyway, I'm grateful you're lending a hand tonight, Tracey. How's Daphne?'

Tracey looked as if she'd seen someone stepping on a landmine. 'Not so well.'

'Be honest here, Tracey. She's a mess!' Draco's voice reached them from somewhere beyond the paper mountains.

'Yeah, alright, she's a mess. At least she's getting some sleep right now.'

'It's rather perplexing that she can keep crying for days, you know. One would assume that she'd run out of salt or water at some point.'

'Stop being so mean, Draco!' shouted Tracey hotly. 'You know how this Harry stuff gets to her.'

'She told me her family is trying to forbid her from meeting Harry, is that true?' Hermione asked quietly.

'She told you, huh?' Tracey rubbed her temples. 'Yeah, her gran is a really tough nut. She'll take her out of Hogwarts if Daphne refuses to obey at this point.'

Not so many weeks ago, Hermione would have scoffed and asked if there wasn't something child protection could do, but now she knew better – sadly.

Minutes crept by like lazy snails, accompanied only by focused if slightly awkward silence.

'I've been thinking,' said Draco after one hour of rigorous study of what Hermione still considered 'spy-stuff'.

'Don't hurt yourself now,' Tracey interjected, grinning broadly.

'Really funny, Tracey. Say, we've been going over all these documents about students, but what if the culprit is somewhere in our blind spot?'

'You mean a teacher?' Hermione asked, horrified. 'B-but surely they wouldn't...'

'Do you think Rose has any connection with the Blacks, Tracey?' Draco overrode Hermione's weak protests. 'Considering Arcturus' and Harry's indulgent attitude, don't you think it's possible that she's a Black?'

Tracey seemed to ponder this for a while before she answered in a slow and steady voice. 'I don't think so. I don't really get that impression. Besides, I can't put my finger on it, but I feel like something was said that made that seem particularly unlikely. I just can't remember...'

Hermione scoffed scathingly. 'That's ludicrous, Draco! Harry's clearly never seen Aenor his entire life before he saw her at the feast. I remember how Daphne kept elbowing him when he tried to sneak a glance at her at the welcoming feast.'

Tracey giggled. 'Yeah, there was that, too. And if she really was a Black, Arcturus would have prevented them from ever meeting publicly.'

'I suppose so,' Draco admitted. 'We should still keep an open mind about the faculty though. Just in case.'

'You're getting jumpy, Draco.' Hermione rolled her eyes.

'I'm never jumpy, Granger!' replied the Malfoy heir disdainfully.

'Oh, yeah?' Tracey was clearly trying not to laugh. 'I remember that one time on Harry's birthday when you laughed about that present he got from Bellatrix.'

'Shut up, will you?!' snapped Draco hotly.

'Every time she raised her right hand to wave or clink glasses, you'd give that really big and embarrassing twitch all over the place. Sort of like a full-body jerk.'

'Will you finally shut up, Tracey?!' Draco snarled grouchily.

Tracey giggled once more and stuck out her tongue in Draco's general direction, causing Hermione to smile faintly. At the same time, she couldn't help feeling slightly envious. Whenever Draco and Tracey or any other pair of Harry's friends were together, they'd inevitably revel in old stories of their apparently long friendship. Harry really seemed like a good person underneath it all, and Tracey was so likeable it was slightly frightening. But she was still sceptical concerning her temporary peace with Daphne and Draco... She shook her head. Draco would always be Draco.

Hermione sighed. There was still, apparently, a mountain to climb.

Four days later, Harry casually settled himself against the frame of the door leading to the dormitories for Slytherin's first year girls, absent-mindedly twirling his wand, his gaze on the sleeping form of his cousin.

'How did you even get up here? Isn't there like some charm or something to keep the boys out?' Tracey asked exasperatedly.

Harry shrugged. 'There is. But, as you correctly stated, it is just a charm. A good bit of old spellwork but-honestly-nothing that can't be overcome with enough determination.'

Tracey sighed, rubbing her eyes. 'Figures. I sure hope you work on the important issue with the same grit, then, instead of wasting your time like this.'

Harry didn't answer, though he fixed Tracey in a rather cold glare.

'Oops.' she laughed nervously. 'Sorry, didn't mean it quite like that.'

The young Black nodded slowly, his eyes still on her. 'No problem. How is she?'

Tracey looked at her best friend, who kept thrashing around in her sleep. 'Honestly? It keeps getting worse! I don't think she's gotten any peaceful sleep for the better part of the last few days. I have to force her to eat, too. She's also been skipping pretty much all the lessons.'

Harry stared at Daphne as she murmured something, crying silently in her sleep.

'I-I think she keeps dreaming about her dad...You know. Harry, you need to do something or she'll snap and take some brash, drastic and totally Daphne-like stupid course of action!'

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, messing up his rather dubious haircut even further. 'It's not such a simple matter. You should know that well enough. I can't just keep pressing or...slacking as it were. Can't you keep her calm and out of harm's way for a little while longer?'

'Just a bit, please! I know it puts the plan at risk but she won't stand it for the whole fortnight. Even if it becomes a bit more obvious, I still think we're in the clear here...'

Harry turned around, sighing deeply. 'Alright. I'll see what I can do, though that is really all up to Draco in the end.'

Hermione was as busy with her studies as she'd ever been. Not only were the end of the year tests (from her perspective at least) looming ever closer, but she was also currently devoting a lot of time to Draco's and her contribution to helping Harry. While Hermione was really not one to have problems with organising herself or her schedule, the four to five hours she was now regularly spending with Draco were starting to cause problems.

Right now, she was desperately trying to do her homework justice without devoting too much time to it, which basically meant that she refrained from re-checking all relevant background information in the library, as much as this irked her. So far, her grades hadn't suffered, of course, and she really would not allow that to happen in any case. This was school, after all!

Grumbling unhappily about the lack of time that caused her to make dire sacrifices, she opened another book she had borrowed from Madame Pince for her schoolwork. To her increasing distress, Snape seemed to have gained new levels of vindictiveness as of late, setting them vicious essays and incredibly hard or frankly obscure questions. Most of her fellow students just seemed to give up, resigning themselves to being chewed out by the snarky Potions Master. But that thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

'You're looking busy, Hermione. Is this maybe not a good time?'

Hermione looked up and was momentarily taken aback when she realised that Jermaine, her first friend she'd made in Ravenclaw, was standing near the bookshelves, a stack of Transfiguration books in his arms.

'Oh, no, not at all! Please take a seat. We really haven't crossed paths often recently.'

He smiled kindly. 'True, though I haven't changed my habits. How is it that you're spending so much less time in the library? You used to be here for hours each day.'

Hermione fought for a smile, trying to bridge the awkwardness. 'Yes, well, I have been really busy with some non-canonical school stuff.'

'I see.' He nodded. 'In that case, I sure do hope your efforts bear fruit. Well, I need to finish my essay for McGonagall. I'll be seeing you around!'

'Uhm, yes, thank you. Take care!' She waved after the retreating figure.

Hermione was just about to dive straight back into her homework when a familiar voice scared the living daylight out of her. 'Seems like a boring bookworm to me.'

'Draco, don't sneak up on me like that!' she admonished him in a hissing tone. 'And keep your voice down. This is the library. You know, in case you haven't been here often enough to tell.'

Draco rolled his eyes lazily. 'Sure, sure.' He took a seat in front of her and looked disdainfully at her Potions research material. 'You're still bothering with that? I don't know what's gotten into Snape, but I don't think he really expects us to finish all this stuff. It's more about having a reason to shout at Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors if you ask me. He won't dock points of Slytherin anyway.'

'That's not the problem,' huffed Hermione, shooting him a disapproving look. 'I'm sure we can learn a lot if we follow his schedule.'

'Sure,' Draco admitted easily. 'About exhaustion and burn-outs, I suppose.'

Hermione, who was slightly puffed up about him mocking her earnest effort, chose to ignore his statement and dragged the books closer to her as if to partially block Draco from her vision.

'Has Jermaine approached you often these last few weeks?' Malfoy asked out of the blue.

'W-what?' responded Hermione, totally bewildered by the question.

'I mean,' said Malfoy slowly, 'has he come to talk to you on a regular basis. And what sort of stuff does he want to talk about?'

Hermione stared at him, completely transfixed.

'I think it's slightly suspicious how he kept asking what you were up to. Don't you think he could be in on this? Him approaching you despite all the bad blood between the houses and all that.'

'Oh, no! No, no, no! Don't, just don't, Draco! Jermaine is not spying on me! I've been friendly with him for almost my whole stay here at Hogwarts.'

'Even more suspicious.' Draco leant forward as if to let her in on some big secret. 'He could have this planned from the get-go. And now you're so convinced of him being your friend that you won't even question his motives...'

'Sometimes,' Hermione shot up, looking down on him with a certain measure of fury, 'I can't help but wonder who really is my friend, Draco, and that includes you! You're getting paranoid! You can't just accuse everyone I know of being up to some nefarious plot!'

Without another word, Hermione stormed out of the library, leaving a blank-faced Draco behind.

'No...no! Leave him be...Father...' Daphne rolled around, tears still flowing from her eyes, her voice dripping with agony and a feeling of helplessness.

Tracey clasped one of her hands in both of hers, exerting a comforting amount of pressure. 'I'm here, Daphne,' she mumbled softly.

The familiar voice seemed to rouse Daphne from her slumber, as she slowly opened her eyes, staring into the golden eyes of her best friend. She abruptly sat up, trying to wipe the stains the tears had left on her face with the blanket, gently freeing herself from Tracey in the process. 'How late is it?' she asked in a small voice.

'About nine in the evening,' her friend answered with a slightly crooked smile.

'You should've woken me! I just wanted to have a short lie-down...'

Tracey shrugged. 'You haven't missed anything, and you really could do with a bit of a nap. Even if it might not have been very peaceful sleep.'

Daphne turned her head away. 'I was talking in my sleep again, wasn't I? I told you not to pay that stuff any attention.'

Tracey grabbed Daphne's hand again. 'You don't have to play tough with me, you know?'

Daphne didn't answer. Instead, she laid back down and turned on her side so that her face was hidden in the shadows of the room, still clasping Tracey's hand. Unspoken words passed in painful silence.

'Tracey?' Daphne eventually whispered when her best friend was finally convinced that she'd fallen asleep again.

'Yeah?'

'I won't forgive whoever tries to meddle with or drive a wedge between me and my family.'

Tracey looked with growing concern, down at her best friend. There hadn't been a shred of a doubt in Daphne's voice.

Hermione finally reached the Slytherin common room after her long detour through the castle to cool her temper. Draco really got to her sometimes. Clicking her tongue in displeasure at the thought of her annoying partner in crime, she straightened her pose, walked towards the hidden entrance, and said the password, 'Superiority'.

It was rather late by now, so it didn't come as any particular surprise that the room was mostly deserted. A few third years were still huddled around some kind of paper, laughing and pointing. Some Slytherins in their NEWT or OWL years were still awake, too, frantic looks of pent-up desperation clearly discernible in the hectic movements of their quills. Hermione's eyes, however, were glued to the isolated character in the corner, book in her hand, eating an apple in a distracted manner which caused her to miss her mouth at times, and a shiny prefect badge on her robes. Smiling a bit at the scene, Hermione walked over to her.

'Good evening, Miss Fawley.'

The prefect gave a tremendous start, followed by a squeal of embarrassed laughter. 'O-oh, hey, Hermione! Sorry, I was kind of drawn in by this.' She held up the book she'd been reading: Forgotten Feats or Fantasy? A study of ancient magic by Typhonius Titus.

'Wow!' said Hermione in a suitably hushed voice, her eyes glowing with shared enthusiasm and reverence. 'That does look fascinating.'

'It is.' Fawley grinned. 'Remind me to hand it to you when I'm done with it.' Putting the book on the small table next to her, she adjusted her pose to face Hermione properly. 'So? How's it going? Still busy?'

'Well, yes,' responded Hermione hesitantly, her gaze still on the marvellous tome. She sighed longingly. 'But it's not going so well, to be completely honest.'

Fawley smiled encouragingly. 'Sometimes, we just have to pull through despite how fruitless our endeavours seem at the time. Breakthroughs only follow hardships.'

Hermione returned a weak smile. 'That is true, I suppose. But it's not just all the work, you know...I wish people were as easy to read as books.'

Fawley stood up, her eyes glinting mischievously. 'You look like you could use a bit of motivation. I was just about to start my rounds, but how about I show you my favourite spot in Hogwarts first?'

Hermione bit her lip, her gaze flickering from the door to the Prefect. 'It's rather late, isn't it? Wouldn't we both get into trouble? The rules regarding the curfew clearly state that...'

'Oh, come on, Hermione!' Fawley slapped her chummily on the back. 'Don't go all McGonagall on me. It won't take longer than an hour anyway. And today's supposed to be a clear night. It's really beautiful up there with all the stars, you know.'

When Hermione still looked torn, Fawley added with an amused grin, 'You should check out the place right now before you get yourself a boyfriend, you know? Or you might soon find yourself desperately in need of a private and romantic location and no clue whatsoever.' She laughed.

'Oh, stop that!' Hermione playfully nudged her back. 'I really have other things on my mind right now.'

'And that's why you need to take a break sometimes. Come on, I promise the place is great!'

'Well,' Hermione answered, still unassertive. 'Well, I suppose I could do with a distraction.'

'Splendid!' Fawley smiled victoriously, positively dragging her towards the secret entrance and out into the obscurity of the night.

'Good morning, everyone!' Hermione cheerfully greeted Daphne, Tracey and Draco, who were all sitting at the breakfast table.

'Morning, Honey!' Tracey answered with a gigantic grin.

''Lo,' was all a downcast-looking Daphne uttered. Hermione didn't fail to notice that her plate looked mysteriously clean.

'Hello, Granger. What's gotten you into such a good mood so early?' Draco raised an eyebrow.

'Oh, you know. Lots to do, no time like today. Right?'

'If you say so,' Draco returned with a shrug.

'Where's H-' A sharp kick from Tracey interrupted Hermione's innocent question. 'Ow!' Locking eyes with the petite witch, Tracey's eyes moved towards the side, in the direction of Daphne. Greengrass had slumped down, her face pressed against her empty plate, her enviably glossy and long blond hair flowing like a carpet over a sizeable part of the table.

'He's not here, Granger...' she grumbled.

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Could you make yourself just a tad more transparent, Greengrass? I think some Hufflepuffs down the hall haven't seen you sulking at the sound of Harry's name yet.'

'Piss off, dog-face!'

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but before he could retaliate, Tracey placed a placating hand on both of their shoulders. 'Now, now. Could we please just get along and enjoy our meal? I know we're all a bit stressed out but you could at least make an effort to get along...'

Daphne shrugged. An impressive feat, considering her face was still lying on the dinnerware. 'Whatever. Ask your questions, satiate your curiosity, Granger. I'm beyond caring at this point...'

Hermione looked with uncertainty from Daphne's collapsed form to Tracey, who returned an equally awkward and helpless little smile. 'W-what's he up to? I mean, I know about all of your situations, but what has he been doing all this time? I've seen him in the library, combing through some tomes about charms, but surely that can't be all, right?'

Daphne turned her head, her eyes racing between Draco and Tracey, obviously equally expecting.

'He's...learning some kind of spell,' said Tracey slowly. 'I'm not sure about the specifics, to be honest.'

'That's all?' said Hermione, slightly taken aback. 'Draco and I go through about a thousand documents and he's learning...one spell?'

Draco placed his teacup carefully and without any sound on the table. 'You can switch, go right ahead, Granger. Har-' His eyes shot towards Daphne for a second. 'He admitted to me that even Flitwick advised him against learning it. Apparently, it's only really research material and there are no practical instructions that you can find in the library here. It's definitely not something students are supposed to learn.'

'Is it dangerous?' Hermione asked suspiciously.

'Of course, it is.' Draco loaded another fried egg onto his plate, not even looking up. 'Equally dangerous as a Tripping Jinx at a set of stairs or Jelly Legs when standing atop the Astronomy Tower.'

Hermione, gurning slightly, sent a punitive glance towards Malfoy. 'Why is your imagination so dangerous?'

'It's just a matter of fact, Granger. Blinding yourself to the potentially lethal uses of what most consider harmless first year charms or jinxes is nothing but a show of ignorance.'

She turned towards him, slightly surprised. 'That doesn't sound like something you'd say.'

'Yeah, well, okay,' he conceded grumpily. 'That one belongs to Harry.'

'Haaah.' A long sigh of suffering escaped Greengrass' lips on cue to the H-word.

'Will you give it a rest already, Greengrass?' Draco snapped, clearly irritated.

'Fuck you,' she responded with her famously civil tongue.

It was another three days later that a severely stressed and sleep-deprived Hermione made her way towards the greenhouses. Her hair that always threatened to cross the border to bushy mane was standing up in all directions, giving her a wild and slightly demented look.

Muttering to herself under her breath, she tried to keep track of everything she still had to do that day. History of Magic had been relatively tame today, thankfully, and Professor Prewett had refrained from giving them any additional work. But then there was McGonagall's tricky task about Switching Spells, not to mention Snape's positively horror-inducing essay topic of 'The usage of dried fungi in medieval potioneering.' Then she was supposed to meet up with Draco, of course, which was in and of itself not too bad, except there was now a definite sense of dread at the prospect of not getting any results. There wasn't even a week left by now, and they were no closer to identifying anyone than they'd been seven days before. Draco had also gotten rather moody as of late, probably due to the same kind of duress she was under, she mused.

Usually, Tracey would keep her company, and she never failed to improve Hermione's mood, telling hilariously exaggerated stories, funny anecdotes of her past, or just sharing vicious-if entertaining-gossip. But everyone, even Hermione, could see that Daphne was a walking disaster, ready to explode anytime nowadays. So now Tracey was more or less devoting all of her time to keeping her entertained, cheering her up in any way possible, be it smuggling butterbeer into the girls' dormitories, or somehow getting her hands on a giant dartboard with Professor Rose's head on it. The board also winced and complained when hit, which, to their relief, turned out to distract Daphne for nearly a whole day.

The only person she had to talk to, aside from the peculiarly grumpy Draco was Fawley, seeing as Harry was ever so busy. And indeed they had spent two evenings in a row now chatting idly about their problems and playing chess or Exploding Snap. Yesterday, they'd simply hung out, enjoying each other's company in relaxed silence. Fawley, Hermione was surprised to realise, was rather isolated within the Slytherin common room, too, though the reason for that completely eluded her. She was likeable, clever and a Prefect – it really was baffling. When Hermione had tried to ask her about that in a kind way, Fawley had simply ruffled her hair and laughed the issue off, saying that she'd rather enjoy the company of those she could honestly cherish than those who only pretended.

A small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth at the thought of the open and friendly witch, Hermione continued her stride with a spring in her step until she saw a lone figure resting in the grass, quite obviously asleep, a book on top of his head.

It was Harry.

Positively flummoxed, Hermione halted her steps. That can't be Harry, right? What's he doing here? I know he doesn't attend History of Magic, but surely... Is he really just taking a nap?

Hermione approached slowly, biting her lip. When she was two feet away from him, she softly called his name. 'Harry? Harry, you've got to get up, you'll miss Herbology!'

'Whazzup now?' Harry, clearly startled, bolted right up.

'Have you been sleeping out here? It's much too cold for that, Harry!'

'Oops.' He paused for a second and tried to covertly rub the sleep out of his eyes. 'I guess I must have fallen asleep, then. Thanks for waking me.'

'You shouldn't force the issue, Harry. I'm sure you'll get the spell eventually.'

'Ah, don't concern yourself with that. I finished working on that three days ago already,' he returned groggily, straightening his tie.

'You...finished already?' she asked, bewildered.

'Yes. Don't have a lot to do right now, to be completely honest with you. I was just having a look at some future course work and must have forgotten the time. Thanks for waking me, Hermione!' He smiled at her.

'...don't have a lot to do...' she repeated, stunned and confused.

Stretching sleepily, Harry finally stood up. 'Well, the wind seems to have played a prank with my belongings.' He laughed sheepishly. 'You go on ahead, Hermione. It'll take a while to gather it all.'

'Harry?' she asked in a fit of daringness that stemmed from confusion and anger.

'Yes?' He turned around to look at her, his hair messed up in a lazy manner, his clothes wrinkled, his expression blissful from the sun shining down on them in early spring.

'Professor Prewett...He always goes on and on about how the Blacks have an agenda for socialising with people. I-I don't want to believe that, of course, but you know...I thought that I'd ask.' She bit her lip and stared at her shoes. 'Do you...I mean did you have some kind of reason or...plan in mind when you first opened up to me? Do you have some kind of...profit in mind that will ultimately benefit you thanks to our friendship?'

He looked at her as if she'd asked if he wanted to trade his wand for some obscure perversion of Muggle origin. 'Of course, I do.'

'I-I see,' she replied quietly, forcing herself to avoid his eyes. 'I'll go on ahead if you don't mind.'

She turned on the spot, burning with shame, and nearly ran down the path, fleeing from her own stupidity and naïveté.

So this was it. Her dream demolished; her friendship fought for and forfeit; her bonds battered and broken. Harry was facing her in the dark corridor, his strangely dark wand outstretched and aiming straight at her heart, a foreboding and deathly ill, green spark already at its tip, the cold body of Professor Prewett lying at his feet.

'How could you, Harry?! I thought we were friends!' Hermione shouted hotly to make herself heard over the strong gust that blew through the halls, tears dancing like leaves in the wind.

'Friends?' Harry repeated the word as if to taste it. 'You're so simple, Hermione. And here I thought Draco's lectures were starting to rub off...'

'I wonder why I even bothered,' Draco sneered with pronounced disgust. 'For a second, I thought she might be useful, but she's just different from us. Too different. She'll never make it!'

'NO...no! I'll learn, I promise I will!' she pleaded desperately.

'Please! Stop listening to her! We don't need her! Look at how she's wearing those Muggle flop-flops with her silken robes.' Daphne laughed in a shrill manner at her. 'Muggle through and through.'

Hermione looked down at her feet, eyes widening in panic. 'No, please listen to me! It was an honest mistake, I promise I'll never wear orange flip-flops and black robes again!'

'Sorry, Honey,' interrupted Tracey's tiny frame. She was almost invisible, standing in the shadow of the giants named Harry and Draco, her usually friendly smile twisted into a mad grin of insanity. 'I'll just be friends with someone else instead. I can be friends with whomever I want, after all. Unlike a bookworm such as you.' A malicious thought seemed to have struck her, as her grin gained even more diabolical power, her blindingly white teeth and glowing golden eyes illuminating the hallway. 'Oh, I know! How about I make friends with Miss Fawley and Jermaine? Then you'll just be a nobody.'

'A nobody,' cooed Daphne happily, nodding in agreement.

'A nobody.' Draco crossed his arms, looking expectantly at Harry.

'Harry...please,' Hermione whimpered, staring into the eyes of her former friend. 'Please!'

'A nobody,' Harry agreed with the rest, his voice falling like the final blow of the judge's hammer. He raised his wand.

'Nooo!' Hermione screamed, raising her hand to shield her face against the vortex of green light.

'Death-magicus horribilis!' chanted Harry nefariously, just as the giant green parchment of destruction smothered her face.

Hermione awoke in the dormitory, soaked in sweat, her ears ringing, her heart beating furiously in her chest as if threatening to burst free. She stared wide-eyed into the dark, keenly aware of the other girls' soft breathing. Slowly, she got up, wrapped herself in a light mantle, grabbed her wand and went down to the common room. The warm and thankfully bright fire there had never seemed so inviting before.

To her surprise and immediate discomfort, the common room still wasn't empty. Incredibly unwelcome and unbidden, Draco sat near the fire, calmly filing what seemed to be an endless list of reports. He didn't turn his head when he addressed her. 'Good evening, Granger. Still up so late?'

'N-no...couldn't sleep,' she replied, cursing her shaking voice.

Draco looked at her, taking in her shaken and clammy appearance, causing Hermione to tighten the fastenings of her mantle.

But he just shrugged. 'Take a seat by the fire to warm yourself. It gets really cold down here in the dungeons.'

Hesitantly, she followed his advice, making sure to seat herself as far away from him as possible without appearing impolite. 'Do you often work down here so late at night?' she asked to distract herself, staring into the familiar fiery glow, watching the flames dance their endless struggle for domination.

'Yup, fairly often. I like it down here, but I can't really work on personal stuff when Zabini or Parkinson are around. So I usually end up doing that bit when it's empty. A few others seem to value the night for its privacy too, of course, but we don't trouble each other.'

'Doesn't it bother you?' she eventually asked in a hushed tone, still not looking up from the flames, basking in the ingle that promised safety and light.

'What do you mean?' he asked in a neutral tone, still busy with his papers.

'That you have to hide a lot of your true self from people like Zabini and Parkinson.' Hermione's voice was barely even a whisper at this point.

A log in the fire cracked as loudly as the roar of a fierce wild beast, ripping the conversation in two for the merest fraction of a second.

'No,' said Draco simply, his voice echoing through the looming dark where shadows clawed at the edges of reality.

When Hermione eventually awoke in the morning, she found herself all alone, her only company the cold ashes hinting in sad despair at the shattered illusion of sheltering warmth of the bygone day.

'I'm telling you, Draco, a few days ago I saw him lying in the grass, enjoying a nap in the sun! There's no way he's busy if he can afford to take it so easy!'

'Stop your complaining, Granger. I'm sure he was just taking a break,' Draco rubbed his eyes, sighing in clear annoyance.

'No! The thing is, he told me that he'd finished his work on the spell days ago. He was just lazing about; he practically told me as much! I just don't see why we have to go through this completely insurmountable workload when he's not even helping. We're doing this for his sake after all!' Hermione shouted loudly.

'Shut up, Granger!' snarled Greengrass. 'You don't know anything about Harry. Did you actually think to ask if he's working on something else now that he's finished with the spell?'

'N-no,' admitted Hermione after a small pause. 'But nevertheless, he frankly and openly said that...'

'No, Hermione. You need to trust Harry if we want this to work. Even if he said something stupid, that happens to all of us at times. If you want my advice, take it up with him once this is all over. Don't pay too much attention to the small stuff!' Tracey, positioning herself between the two girls, was clearly trying to douse the flames, arms raised in a peaceful and conciliatory manner.

Hermione turned around, pulling her own hair in chagrin.

'Come on, Honey! We're all under stress here. Let's not make a big thing out of this, alright? Let's...let's just get on with it. We've only got three days left!'

'Even though I still don't know why we're in such a hurry all of a sudden,' grumbled Hermione, obviously still dissatisfied. 'Well, I suppose you're right. But I'd really appreciate it if you could just be a bit more open with me.'

'We will be as soon as you start earning our trust,' muttered Greengrass scathingly, causing Tracey to kick her shin and Hermione to glare at her.

'Shall we get on with it?' Draco interrupted the girls. 'Granger, didn't you say yesterday that you found the whole order of events somewhat strange? Let's go over that again now that the girls are here. Perhaps they have some sort of idea.'

'I'm a girl, too, you know,' she hissed angrily before collecting herself somewhat. 'Well, I just had a thought that, while Harry was having it rather rough the moment this whole...Nott-thing came to pass, it only got particularly ugly once he returned from the holidays. I mean, before that it was mostly jinxes and pranks, no outright willingness to endanger his life, right? But all that changed when he returned.'

'Well, it's obvious it has something to do with the ball, isn't it?' Draco repeated the argument he'd made to Hermione yesterday. 'But I just don't see the connection. I mean, Rose is supposed to be a stranger here, right? Why would they attack him more ferociously now that he has some kind of friendship or something with her, no matter how inappropriate it might be?'

Daphne snorted derisively. 'Maybe because she's a lying floozie that chats up her own students?'

'I, uh, I actually think it's kind of the opposite, Daphy,' interposed Tracey, smiling awkwardly and bracing for the storm.

'Excuse me?' Daphne flared up instantly.

'Look, Daphy. It's, uhm, it's no secret that most of the boys kind of fancy Rose, right?'

'I suppose so,' Greengrass admitted grudgingly.

'Now, wouldn't it be kind of easy to manipulate those jealous types into doing something rough?'

'Well, that's as easy as pie,' chipped in Draco. 'I mean you'd literally only have to say something like "Oh, hey, look at that upstart hogging our Professor Rose. Let's teach him a lesson!" or something. I mean those Gryffindor and Hufflepuff types aren't exactly brainiacs.'

'Well, that does, admittedly, make a certain amount of sense, but there's just one bit that doesn't fit,' Hermione insisted, stomping her foot in frustration. 'The attack on Harry was done before the rumour about Harry and Professor Rose spread through the castle. I heard Neville telling it first hand to his housemates, and that was after the attack.'

'Well.' Draco waved her concern aside dismissively. 'He could've just said that because he knew you were overhearing him. I've told you so already, Granger!'

'And I'm telling you that he wasn't just telling tales! Not everyone's as manipulative as you!' Hermione shot back angrily.

Tracey harrumphed loudly. 'If we accept that the attack happened before the rumour spread, then someone who knew either first or second hand about that Rose thingy was the culprit for stirring things up back then. It's easy, isn't it?'

'I suppose it's possible.' Draco recognised the point. 'But there were dozens of people who could've been told by their relatives that Rose and Harry were a bit, er, close during the Black Ball. It wasn't exactly hard to see, you know?'

Daphne flicked her tongue in displeasure. 'They danced a bit. Big deal!'

Tracey and Draco exchanged a silent glance. Everyone knew better than to challenge Daphne's point or to remind her of her dark mood during the ball.

'Were there any other students actually at the ball? I only saw Tonks, and she finished last year, right?' Draco bravely stepped into the breach of being the next target of Daphne's foul mood.

'Let me check on that.' Hermione sprang to action. 'Your reports also include attendance to social events, so it shouldn't be too hard.'

They all stared at her expectantly as she worked through the mountain of papers with slightly worrying speed and efficiency. 'Well, this is easy. According to your information, only Harry, Neville, Tracey, Draco and Greengrass attended as students. Oh, and Miss Fawley, I suppose.'

'Fawley?' Draco raised an eyebrow.

'Oh, now that you mention it, I saw her there. Harry pointed her out, in fact.' Tracey looked slightly surprised at her own words.

'Fawley...' Daphne repeated, still as a stone. 'Did I hear that right? Fawley?'

'Yes, Greengrass,' Hermione responded easily. 'But we already agreed that everyone could have gotten the fact second ha-'

But Hermione froze. She'd seen the Greengrass heiress angry, or so she had thought, when the girl had smashed her knee and screamed at a volume that threatened to tear her vocal cords. But all that, she realised now, was nothing in comparison to the icy glare of mad rancour she now displayed while staying as still as water. Hermione took a step back. 'H-hold on, Greengrass. Let's think this over carefully!'

'What do we have on Fawley, Granger?' asked Draco curiously, ignoring Hermione's protests.

'No! You can't be serious! It wasn't Miss Fawley! Don't start with your paranoia again! It wasn't Jermaine, and it wasn't Miss Fawley!'

'I didn't know you knew the Fawley girl, Hermione,' said Tracey, apparently caught off guard.

'Listen!' Hermione forced herself to remain calm, quelling the rising panic. 'I've talked a few times with her, especially recently since she seemed somewhat alone.'

'Alone...' Daphne repeated softly, her cold glare flashing with intense hate.

'Yes, alone,' Hermione agreed. She hadn't seen Daphne's expression. Even her previous gaze had been a bit too unhinged, so she'd decided to look at other people for the time being. 'She's been very kind! Showing me a few things, like the kitchens or the Ravenclaw roof top. We've talked about her problems as a prefect in Slytherin and such things...'

'Have you told her anything about Harry or what we're currently up to?' Draco asked coolly, standing up.

'What? N-no! I mean, well, we might have brushed the topic a few times, but that's beside the point...'

Once again, Draco ignored her protestations. 'I've seen her talking to Harry, now that you mention it. In the Great Hall. At the time, I thought it must have been an attempt to ingratiate herself, but, thinking back, it might have been something entirely different...'

'You can't be serious!' Hermione cried out loud. 'Stop it with that stupid fixation on my friends, Draco!'

'I think she's our most likely candidate,' he continued mercilessly.

'STOP IT!' Hermione screamed hysterically, close to panic. 'I TOLD YOU IT'S NOT HER! IT ISN'T HER!'

'I say we should bring her in,' mumbled Draco, one hand supporting his chin. 'We should ask her a few questions. She should know something helpful, in any case.'

'And what if she doesn't want to?' asked Tracey sceptically.

Draco shrugged. 'I wasn't about to ask,' he responded nastily.

'NO!' Hermione snapped. She aimed her wand at Draco and furiously shouted, 'Furnunculus!' Not bothering to look back, she ran towards the door, her head a mess, yet one thought was clearly discernible among the confusing maelstrom of emotions as she ran through the corridors, desperately hoping to get to her friend first.

This is madness! I need to warn Miss Fawley!