Differently normal

One night. It hadn't even been one blasted night, and already Amy was in trouble. Well, he was too, Harry considered, especially if things got blown out of proportion again. He could already see the headlines:

'B(l)ack again!

Horrible scenes of violence at Hogwarts castle!'

Funnily enough, his own notoriety might at some point be able to save Amy, as the Prophet would surely jump at every opportunity to vilify him further, likely portraying the Lestranges as his thuggish sidekicks.

His thoughts racing, Harry silently followed Professor Snape. The actual perpetrator had her hands in her pockets and was looking around curiously, inspecting the many pictures and portraits that decorated Hogwarts. Amy might as well have been sightseeing, going by her attitude alone.

Fawley and his gang were currently in the tender care of Madame Pomfrey, though the actual wounds hadn't seemed too bad, despite the bloody first impression. Unfortunately, the other Hufflepuffs had turned out to be as equally hot-blooded as their elected leader, and Harry had, with some amount of regret, rendered them harmless while their attention was focused on the girl who'd fired first. He felt neither pride nor shame at the act; it had simply been necessary to spare Amy any more trouble, as she'd have likely chosen a more painful approach to incapacitation. And that he'd attacked four people who'd turned their backs...Well, doing so was just foolish, to begin with. Needless to say, McGonagall and Snape hadn't been too impressed with the both of them towering over a thoroughly restrained bunch of crying Hufflepuffs, wands in their hands.

'Up!' Snape spat furiously, pointing towards the now revealed entrance of the headmaster's study.

Covertly, Harry brushed his hands against Amy's back. She didn't react, but when she opened the door at the top of the stairs, her eyes sought his for just one moment.

'Let me deal with this,' breathed Harry.

Amy nodded with a smile, obviously extremely happy to let him deal with the aftermath of her actions.

'Harry, Miss Lestrange, please take a seat.' Dumbledore gestured towards a pair of chairs in front of his desk, his tone grave. Harry really liked the old headmaster's office. The rows and rows of books, the strange and mysterious devices the man had collected, the magnificent desk. The room was simply grand.

'Before we start, I'd like to inform you that Poppy is currently attending Mr Fawley, and he'll be able to leave the infirmary tomorrow morning, despite our initial misgivings. Now,' he continued, sitting down and leaning back in his throne-like chair, folding his hands, 'please tell me what happened from your perspective.'

'I am very sorry about all of this, sir, but I'm afraid there isn't much to say. I was returning to the dormitories after our...conversation, when I was ambuscaded by Mr Fawley and his clique of cronies. They pulled wands on me, and Amy here arrived and shot the first spell to prevent them from hexing me to bits.'

'I see. So you mean to say that you and Miss Lestrange acted purely out of self-defence?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And they allowed Miss Lestrange to shoot the first spell because...?'

'I cannot say, sir. I can only assume they underestimated her.'

'Curious. Well, I doubt I need to relay to you their actual statements, but, as a matter of fact, Mr Fawley and his friends are of the opinion that it was you and Miss Lestrange here who attacked them first.' Dumbledore slowly leaned forward, his alert eyes watching them intently, his hands still folded in a characteristic gesture.

'Sir, of course they would. Again, with all due respect, why would they confess to anything when there's a very real chance to lay the blame at our doorstep. From a neutral standpoint, I'd wonder why four Hufflepuffs were lurking in a corridor just for me to pass by, sir.'

'They claim to have wanted a word.'

Harry allowed his genuinely felt sneer to shine through. 'Truly. And that word couldn't have possibly waited until tomorrow, I presume?'

But Dumbledore didn't answer. Snape, finally stepping in, raised his voice. 'Miss Lestrange, you admit to casting the first spell?'

'Yes, to ward off an imminent attack on my friend,' she lied easily.

'Describe the situation for me.'

She shrugged, not bothering to look up, her attention focused on the dark ring she wore on her left. 'It's like Harry said. There was a lot of shouting and raised wands. Seeing Harry facing four wands, I reacted. That's really all there is to it.'

'But that doesn't explain what happened after you attacked Mr Fawley, purely to safeguard Mr Black here, of course.'

Harry kept silent, causing Snape to smirk nastily. 'You see, the other Hufflepuffs were all found bound, shackled, gagged, blinded and, let's see, you normally don't forget these things... Ah yes, hallucinating they were wandering the Sahara without protection and at the mercy of the elements while they had to fend off attacks of giant snakes and man-eating vultures.'

Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could spot Amy sending him an amused smirk. 'Well,' he answered after a second of hesitation, 'I didn't want to be hexed in the back when calling for aid.'

'So it was you who restrained three fourteen and one sixteen-year-old fellow pupils with a set of spells that even Azkaban wardens might consider unduly cruel?'

'Better safe than sorry, sir,' Harry replied, not a muscle in his face moving.

'Man-eating vultures and giant snakes?' Snape repeated icily. 'Care to elaborate how them fantasising about the constant danger of death adds to your protection?'

But Harry only shrugged. 'It was a spur of the moment thing, sir. It wasn't completely unthinkable that they'd been trained to resist apprehension.'

'Vultures and snakes?' Snape repeated once more, his left eye twitching.

'I see what you mean, sir,' said Harry, his brain once more trailing behind his mouth due to his anger. 'I'll be sure to add a badger and a lion next time.'

Snape glared at him angrily, whereas Dumbledore looked personally disappointed. Amy, of course, sniggered appreciatively. 'Harry, this is a very grave situation. I'm not sure if you're helping your case,' said the aged headmaster in a sombre tone. 'Attacking a fellow student, possibly unprovoked, using dangerous curses and charms... These are very serious offences that might warrant suspension or even expulsion. They have in the past.'

'Of course, Headmaster. You'll forgive me if I remind you of what transpired just last year?' said Harry with suppressed furore. He stood up. 'If I remember correctly, I was in Poppy's superb care no less than thirty-two times. How many suspensions did you decree if we don't count that one time? None! How many expulsions? None! As a matter of fact, I can't seem to recall more than three occasions where even detentions were served.'

'Yes, Harry, but more often than not, you couldn't even name the people who attacked you,' replied Dumbledore patiently.

'Oh, how true! And the students who turned up in the infirmary the next day with mysterious bruises or strange afflictions they couldn't explain were mere coincidences. The whole dozen of them, I bet!'

'I agree they were likely involved, but you can't deny that it was also possible that they weren't. We cannot hand out punishment if there is a reasonable amount of doubt as to whether they were guilty at all.'

'And this doesn't apply to us?' Harry asked, whirling around, and staring at the man behind the desk.

'You misunderstand, Harry. Even though we would likely have handed out detentions just for a fight, the real problem here was your excessive overreaction. I cannot allow you to misuse your gifts and mistreat your schoolmates, just like I cannot tolerate you using unknown curses, Miss Lestrange.'

'I see.' Harry turned around again, thinking fast. Well, maybe he had overdone it a bit, but what's the big deal? Those idiots would be fine come next morrow. They likely wouldn't even remember a thing. In contrast to that, they had originally aimed to seriously harm him in a very physical way that was unlikely to heal just as quickly.

His eyes fell on the crimson coloured bird with its spectacularly golden tail feathers. The phoenix stared back at him, his soulful black eyes unblinking and his wings slightly unfolded as if to make himself appear bigger.

Screw this, I won't be a pawn in their little games! If Dumbledore wants to play, I'll play!

'A thought occurs, Headmaster,' Harry said slowly, deliberately peeling every word like a precious fruit of wrath. 'You are, of course, aware that Mr Fawley's sister admitted to being guilty of attacking the Noble House of Black, taking full responsibility, and we, graciously, allowed her to be judged in the eyes of her own family, thus ending the political feud initiated by the House of Fawley.'

'I am,' Dumbledore returned slowly.

With a superior smirk, Harry turned around. 'Well, I cannot help but wonder if it maybe wasn't just Terese Fawley after all.'

Dumbledore's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Snape looked at him coldly, though Harry rather thought he could discern a small amount of grudging respect behind his facade.

'As I understand, sister and brother were very close,' Harry added victoriously. 'And his recent actions left me wondering...'

'Oh, no!' Amy burst out, a truly malicious smile playing about her lips. She was scarily fast on the uptake like that. 'But that would mean poor Terese's sacrifice, I mean confession, was all in vain.'

'Not at all, Amy,' replied Harry merciless, smiling back at her. 'But what a strange turn of events it would be if the exile would be the only surviving member of her sometime-family. Grandfather did accept her punishment, after all.' Taking a few slow steps towards the door, he said apparently absent-mindedly, 'Well, if you'll excuse me, Headmaster, Professor Snape. It seems I have to write a letter.'

Dumbledore sighed audibly. 'Please wait...Mr Black. Surely, it isn't in your interest to further pursue this senseless quest for vengeance?'

'I believe you meant to say "justice", sir,' Harry corrected him in a low voice.

'Not entirely, no. If I punish you, Miss Lestrange, Mr Fawley and his friends equally, will you be amenable to drop this matter?'

Harry turned around, his face diligently polite. 'Of course, sir. I do see how things got out of hand.'

'Indeed,' the old professor muttered. 'You will receive notice about the schedule of your detention.'

'Very good, sir.' Harry nodded to Amy, and she got up, walking towards him without a care in the world, plainly demonstrating that she'd been confident, expectant that he'd be able to get them out of trouble.

'Mr Black?' called Dumbledore again when Harry had opened the door and held it open for his cousin.

'Yes, Professor Dumbledore?'

'This is the first and last instance of this arrangement.'

'Of course, sir. Please send Mr Fawley my warmest regards.'

~BLVoD~

Dumbledore and Snape watched the door close behind the pair of Slytherins. The Potions Master stood stiffly in the corner he'd positioned himself in at the very beginning, but Dumbledore seemed restless, his wrinkled hand fingering a little glass ball, his gaze unfocused.

'What do you make of this, Severus?' he asked eventually.

'Amadina Lestrange seems to have a great deal of faith in him. He, in turn, seems to feel protective of her.'

'Is it truly just faith or maybe, rather, devotion?'

'Headmaster?'

'Just a thought,' the old man said with a grim frown. 'In addition to Miss Lestrange, we learned three important things about young Harry tonight.'

Snape looked at the small crystal ball on the desk. It showed a rather smallish Slytherin second-year sweeping his wand, muttering for a few seconds, whereupon four Hufflepuffs sank to their knees, drivelling and moaning.

'Firstly, he appears to be much less like his parents than I'd hoped. Both his and young Miss Lestrange's attacks were, while not entirely unprovoked, extremely ruthless in their execution.'

Snape shrugged, unconcerned. 'Respectfully, Headmaster, I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. I'm inclined to prefer Harry Black over Harry James Potter any day.'

'Yes, but I fear you may not be entirely objective in this matter, Severus.'

'Be that as it may, even Mr Fawley's injury didn't turn out life-threatening, if, admittedly, painful. I have to say I'm rather impressed that he managed to subdue them without any physical trauma. And despite your efforts to push my students,' Snape paused long enough to give the headmaster a reproachful look, 'Fawley's naïveté and recklessness might prove even more dangerous than it was in the case of this little scuffle. I wonder if Britain wouldn't be better off if the Blacks were allowed to remove the Fawley's after all...'

'I will have Pomona speak with him. But the choice in spells is certainly...notable,' remarked Dumbledore, ignoring Snape's last comment. 'The silver lining seems to be that both Lestrange and Harry acted because they wished to assist one another. That is not the typical behaviour of a schoolyard bully.'

Snape didn't deem this worthy of a reply. In his opinion, it was fairly obvious who had been (or maybe rather attempted to be) the bully, only to find themselves out of their depth.

'Secondly,' Dumbledore continued, deep in thought, 'it seems young Harry has still been trying to downplay his abilities. Did you catch all of his spells, Severus?'

Dumbledore gently pushed the little crystal ball towards Snape. Again, Slytherin's Head of House watched the spectacle from beginning to end, his cold eyes only focused on Lestrange's and Black's wands this time around. 'After the binding...' Snape hesitated, reviewing the quarrel another time.

'An easy mistake to make. In his initial volley, he cast three charms on all the Hufflepuffs, almost simultaneously. Twelve charms in total, individually aimed, in a bit under three seconds. None really harmful, but it is the sheer amount of spells he managed to produce without fail that astounds me. More so than the inventive misuse of a modified Daydreaming Charm.'

Snape nodded wordlessly, his eyes lingering on the calm and concentrated effigy of Harry Black that was preserved before them.

'And lastly, and perhaps most worryingly...' Dumbledore got up from his seat and crossed the room. Fawkes was still staring straight ahead, his wings completely unfolded. Gently, Dumbledore's fingers caressed the plumage of the fire bird. The phoenix blinked, looking up at the headmaster, trilling softly and finally folding his wings. '...it seems Fawkes is afraid of something concerning young Harry.'

~BLVoD~

'Ah, so this is the venerated Slytherin common room?' Amy idly looked around, her eyes critically examining the suite, small library, and the fireplace. They'd kept to their silence on the way back. Frankly, Harry didn't know if there was anything that he wanted or that needed to be said, but one particular thought still weighed on his mind.

'Why did you intervene, Amy?'

'What? Oh, I overheard Fawley when he stood in line. I wasn't really worried since he appeared to be such a wanker, but you can be so lenient when it comes to dealing with fools like him. Now he's learned his lesson, and he won't do it again. I've got classes with him,' she said, leaning against the wall, looking at the green ceiling with interest. 'He'll be as tame as any upstart Hufflepuff should be come December.'

Harry sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. 'Amy?'

'Yeah?'

'Promise me you won't get expelled over something stupid like this.'

She looked at him as if he'd forbidden her from sleeping in on weekends. 'Sheesh! You're such a worrywart. We got away with it, didn't we?'

But Harry didn't let up and continued to stare at her.

'Fine!' she said, throwing up her hands in defeat. 'But only because it's you who asked.'

'Thanks. I won't deprive you of your fun with Draco and Hermione, though,' Harry returned with a grin.

'They are fun, aren't they?! But who would've thought that Draco would take a Mudblood under his wing? I mean, Draco?'

'It's a bit complicated, I guess. And she's not too bad, actually.'

Amy shrugged. 'Whatever. Don't expect me to get buddy-buddy with her.'

Both of them gazed towards the group of seats arranged around the fire, where Draco, Hermione, and Daphne sat together while a standing Tracey entertained them with imitations of Leo wiping the chair prior to his sorting.

'I'm not. Incidentally, what was that curse you used on Fawley?'

'Not a curse,' she replied with a smirk.

Harry arched an eyebrow. 'Really? Could have fooled me.'

'It's a medical spell, actually. You know, when taming animals, it's sometimes easier to forcefully defang and regrow their teeth than it is to repair the damage.'

'You had him regrow his teeth?' Harry inquired sceptically.

'Oh, no!' Amy sniggered smugly. 'I didn't actually bother learning the regrowing bit.'

~BLVoD~

The next morning, Hermione calmly skimmed through her Prophet, her eyes racing up and down the columns of comments about current political developments. The word 'crisis' seemed fairly popular. Declining public support, worsening relations with the Goblins, shouting matches in the Wizengamot, still missing employees of the Ministry and political upheavals in central Europe; reading just one edition of the paper had an effect on Hermione that was comparable to the sudden announcement of surprise examinations – namely foreboding.

'Where's Leo again?' asked Daphne from her seat next to Tracey and Harry.

'You know how he always takes forever to get ready,' responded Draco, rolling his eyes.

'And Amy?'

'Dunno. Off to explore the castle, I expect.'

'She's not getting into trouble already, is she?'

'Give her some credit, Daphy!' Tracey spoke up, a smile tugging at her lips. 'She's pretty good at not being caught.'

'Too late for that.' Harry's soft words caused every head at the table to turn in his direction. These had been the first words he'd volunteered that morning, but by now even Hermione knew better than to engage him in conversation this early.

'What do you mean?'

'We had a, how to put this, altercation with a few gentlemen from Hufflepuff yesterday evening.'

'Not again,' groaned Tracey. 'You're not secretly enjoying people ganging up on you, are you?'

'Well, Amy lent a hand, so to speak,' Harry continued, passing Tracey over, 'though I had to clear up after her with the headmaster, naturally.'

'You were in the headmaster's office?' repeated Hermione, shocked. 'Are you in trouble, Harry?'

'Just a detention.' He shrugged apathetically. 'Fawley and the rest got one as well.'

'Fawley?' she echoed, her eyes widening. 'You mean...?'

'Her brother, correct. Well, let's hope this remains an isolated incident.'

Four people craned their necks to look at the Hufflepuff table, where a thoroughly disgruntled first year with bulging, inflamed cheeks sat, surrounded by murmuring and pointing housemates.

'House unity at its finest,' remarked Daphne sarcastically.

'As if I wanted to be friendly with the likes of them,' said Draco with a look of disgust.

A few minutes later, a stone-faced Snape handed out their schedules. 'Great,' exclaimed Hermione happily. 'Runes first thing after breakfast. I just hope I've prepared enough. Who else is taking Runes again?'

'You know I do, Granger,' said Draco.

'I do, too,' said Daphne.

'Runes is a sensible option,' said Harry.

'Salazar, no! I'd rather get high on fumes with Trelawney or pet a few Dragons than study some obsolete language stuff!' stated Tracey categorically. 'You guys go on and waste away your lives with the dead – I prefer having fun on this side of Styx!'

~BLVoD~

Hermione stared with big eyes at Tracey, as she sat down. 'Tracey? What are you doing here? I thought you...'

Tracey grinned. 'Just kidding! I'm totally into dead stuff, old mouldy tomes, and crumbling parchment – I dig it!' When Hermione continued to look at her disbelievingly, the petite witch added, 'Okay, okay, it's about the only useful class besides Care of Magical Creatures.'

'There's still Arithmancy,' countered Harry calmly.

Tracey made a face. 'That's only for super-nerds like you and Hermione, though. Arithmancy is obscure, but runes are everywhere in daily life!'

'Indeed, they are. One point to Slytherin!' A middle-aged woman with her long puce hair in a tight bun and no-nonsense glasses stood in the door, a stack of leaflets tucked away under her arm. She put them down on the teacher's desk with an audible thump that seemed quite disproportionate to what a few sheets of paper should weigh. 'Good morning, everyone.'

'Good morning,' they echoed. Looking around, Hermione saw, to her surprise, a good deal of her year sitting in the rows behind her, certainly most pure-bloods.

'I'm Professor Babbling, and during your remaining stay at Hogwarts, I'll do my very best to make you appreciate the subtle beauty of wood-carved runes; of fiery runes etched in cold standing stones; runes adorning praise-worthy, artful weapons; runes gracing shields with an air of defiance; runes on clothing, mundane and otherwise; runes to bless houses, fields, castles, countries; runes to ward off the wicked...' Professor Babbling continued her little spiel for a few minutes, her eyes becoming increasingly misty as she went on.

'Anyway,' she coughed – eventually – in a curiously academic fashion, as if to forcefully dispel the glory of runes from her mind, 'let's begin with something fun. How about you tell me what runes are not to begin our introduction. Yes, why don't you start, Weasley.'

'M-me?' Weasley looked slightly alarmed at being called out. 'Well, a language?'

'Of course, runes aren't a language,' Babbling snapped suddenly, looking highly affronted. 'Five points from Gryffindor! Runes transcend the pitiful human categorisations of systemised communication. Next!'

Tracey sniggered, raising her hand with a look Hermione could only describe as 'elfish'.

'Yes, you, Miss...'

'Davis, Professor.'

'Alright, Davis. Tell us something worthwhile that runes are not!'

Tracey sat upright, looking intently at their teacher. Then, after a suitably dramatic pause, she stood up, loudly proclaiming, 'Ugly!'

Hermione blinked. The sound of her eyelashes moving might as well have been the only sound in the entire room. The tension was extreme, especially considering the seemingly harmless and possibly somewhat nutty teacher had started the lesson by rambling, only to jump down Weasley's throat first chance.

But then, Professor Babbling nodded slowly in agreement, her eyes never leaving Tracey's. 'I would have preferred you to phrase it as "unaesthetic". Even in negation, I'd rather not have that "word",' her voice effortlessly managed to assume a tone exactly like a prim old lady might regard something filthy down the drainpipe, 'stand in the same sentence as my lovely subject, implied or explicit. But I'm pleased with your effort nonetheless. Take three well-deserved points to Slytherin!'

Tracey grinned, sitting down. Seeing Tracey's proud and chuff expression, Harry suddenly raised his hand.

Babbling looked around the room somewhat nervously. When it became apparent that Harry was the only other person to volunteer, she nodded curtly in his direction. 'Mr Black.'

Harry stood up, just like Tracey had done. 'Just an alphabet. Purely a script. Solely images. Standardised. Uniform. Completely understood. Culturally not contextual. Unknown to Muggles.' He closed his eyes for a second, ignoring both his classmates and their professor, who clung to his every word. 'Meant as a functional, casual writing system. Of completely known origin. Unable to represent numbers. Only used in Scandinavia. Frowned upon by Christian Muggles despite their closeness to traditional Nordic beliefs. Prevalently used to honour the Nordic Pantheon or to pass down tales and prose. Unable to affect magic both cast by wands, rituals or even wards, permanent or temporary, and...' Again he paused for a bit, one finger thoughtfully raised to his lips. 'No, I think that about covers it.' Without another word, he sat down.

Babbling absent-mindedly readjusted her glasses, peering intently at Harry. 'I seem to have misjudged you, Mr Black. You see, I care little for your transgressions, fictional or otherwise. I care naught for the Ministry's wishes to keep your family down, nor do I particularly care for your perspective. But, it seems you might just be one of the very few enlightened beings who truly appreciate the sublime divinity of runic graphisation. Twenty points to Slytherin!

'This I want understood: all is worthless in the face of true art. Wealth, power, ambition, intellect, friendship - I couldn't care less for any of these. The only thing that truly matters to me is your dedication to our art.'

After a second, she scowled, levitating a small stack of papers to each student. 'Of course, this being a school, there are certain limitations. You will sit a test at the end of each year, and I will grade it fairly, no matter how plebeian the custom.

'For now, we will be focusing on historical Nordic runes. You will work through these papers until the end of next week. You have until then to write an essay on the differences between the old and the new Futhark, as well as give a brief overview of noteworthy regional variants.

'For the rest of today's lesson, I'll give you a brief introduction to runes that might prove useful for those of you who've never paid attention to them until now. Because, as Miss Davis rightly said, runes are usually all around us. More common in the magical world, naturally, but the Muggles have developed a certain fondness for them, as well. But what are runes, and how did they come to be?

'Well, as Mr Black pointed out, runes are neither letters nor pictographs; neither images nor numbers. And yet they are all of this and more. Every rune has associated, innate meanings which vary subtly between different societies or tribes, regions and even religious aspects, and – of course – will change in time. For example, "sōwilō",' she raised her wand and drew two burning symbols in front of the class, 'often depicted as "ᛋ" or "ᛊ" in younger and elder Futhark respectively, is commonly likened to a bolt of lightning or ray of light, and indeed its inherent meaning is "sun" or, as a matter of fact, sowilo, which is the reconstructed Proto-Germanic term. The associated phonological value, which we will be calling transliteration henceforth, would be "s", though this sham of an explanation is hilariously oversimplified and wrong for about thirteen reasons that would only serve to confuse you even more at this point.

'In the magical world, sowilo mostly stands for power, magic itself or inspiration, whereas sowilo is particularly famous in the Muggle-world due to the insulting delusions of one Guido von List that were further misused by a certain Walter Heck, who violated this sublime piece of art to become the distinguishing mark of an elite group of para-military, mass-murdering brutes.

'Now, where did runes come from, you might ask, and the answer is: we don't rightly know. There are several theories, among Muggles and magical scholars both, and I will be explaining the most important ones briefly, though we can leave out a few of the more easily subverted Mugglish notions...'

~BLVoD~

'Well, that was different.' Hermione was careful with her evaluation, craning her neck just to make sure Babbling wouldn't suddenly turn up to remind them just one more time of the glorious art that is runes.

'She's a bit of a cross between you and Harry, with a dash of Amy in there for good measure,' said Tracey with a smile.

'I'm nothing like her!' protested Hermione.

'Ridiculous!' said Harry.

'See?'

'Well, despite her being a bit of a nutjob, I guess you couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic or capable teacher.' Daphne hesitated for a second, then she added, 'Besides, I think it's a bit cute that she's so into her subject.'

'Cute? This again?' jeered Draco. 'This is school, Greengrass, and not some monthly friends club. I suppose she's capable, but I'd really prefer a teacher who's a bit more...elegant.'

'Like Rose, you mean?' demanded Daphne sharply. 'I couldn't help noticing how you grovelled before her last year.'

'Anyone who's a bit less uptight than McGonagall or Snape is a good one in my books! Except for Rose, obviously,' opined Tracey forcefully.

Harry, who, while by far not the tallest of the group, had still quite a bit more height than Tracey, was barely able to get a glimpse of a certain person that walked in their direction. Suppressing a smile, he turned towards the smallest of the group with a fake expression of genuine puzzlement. 'Come on, Tracey! Aenor isn't too bad. What do you even have against her?'

'WHAT?' cried Tracey in disgust. She was about the only girl Harry knew who could pull off a full-blown sneer that still looked quite dinky. Daphne shot him a look but didn't say anything. Maybe Tracey should've paid attention to her sister-in-arms, or maybe to the fact that Draco looked positively delighted, or maybe that Hermione seemed to covertly try to get her attention.

But she didn't.

'Aenor? Open your eyes, Harry! She's the worst disgrace to ever walk these halls, I tell you. She dresses like a strumpet. She speaks and smiles like a fancy-shmancy princess. She's vicious, annoying, arrogant and a total fake. I hate her! I really, really, really hate her!' After a short pause to draw breath, she asked, 'Why are you all sniggering?'

'Er, Tracey? You should really turn around,' Hermione advised her with an apologetic look.

And Tracey did turn around. Behind her, grinning like a shark, stood Professor Rose.

'I, uhm, I... Oh, damn it. Not again!'

'Detention, Miss Davis. Next Saturday, meet me at my office, I'm sure we'll find something to needlessly occupy you for a few hours.'

'I can't, Professor,' Tracey mumbled angrily.

'I'm sorry?'

'I said, I can't, Professor! I already have a detention with Professor Snape.'

'Oh, you've been busy, have you? Let's make it the Saturday after that, then.'

Tracey cursed under her breath, muttering something inaudible.

'I see we have no luck here. Mr Black?'

'Yes, Professor?'

Aenor smiled sweetly at Harry. 'Which day on your schedule besides Saturday and Sunday allows you the most free time?'

'Thursday, I guess, Professor,' Harry returned, eagerly watching Tracey squirm.

'Splendid! I shall await you next Thursday then, Davis. Let's see... For about as long as Professor Snape deems it prudent to keep you, too. I'm afraid you really need to adjust your behaviour towards authority figures. But I'm more than willing to sacrifice my and, more importantly, your free time to help you out. To the rest of you, good day. I'll be seeing you Monday in class.'

She nodded towards Harry, who grinned back, and then she was gone.

'I-I'm sorry, Tracey! I tried to get your attention but you...'

'You totally deserved that one,' said Draco with a smirk.

'It was delightful!' added Harry, his eyes closed in silent enjoyment.

'Yup, that one's on you, Tracey.' When Tracey looked at her best friend in horror, Daphne just shrugged before she added, 'You really got on my nerves yesterday!'

'Et tu, Daphne?' Tracey moaned dramatically. 'I'll never get any schoolwork done with two detentions a week! That evil-'

'Tracey!' cried Hermione reprovingly.

'Defence Professor,' amended Tracey with what looked like near-physical pain, 'must have known that she'd get to ruin my Sunday too if she and Snape keep me long enough on Thursday and Saturday!'

'Don't worry, we'll help you,' said Draco with a worryingly kind smile.

'Really? Thanks, Draco!'

'Don't worry about it, Tracey.' Harry shared a small smirk with Draco. 'We'll be sure to remind you of your detentions every time they're due.'

~BLVoD~

When Hermione finally returned to the common room from the library later that night, she was extremely happy to have followed Draco's suggestion to not pick up more than two or three electives this year. There was a definite increase in the work required, and this was barely one day in.

Tired but willing to tackle at least the essay Professor Flitwick had set them, she walked to the chairs by the fire and chose one at random.

'Cheering Charm, Cheering Charm,' she mumbled, rummaging in her bag.

'Excuse me? You are Hermione Granger if I'm not mistaken?'

Hermione looked up. In front of her, wearing neatly pressed robes of plain black, his dark hair almost maddeningly rigorously parted, stood Amy's little brother. 'Er, yes?' she asked, jumping up. She held in the urge to twitch or offer her hand as his cold grey eyes scrutinised first her boots, then her robes, and finally her hair, whereupon he seemed to sigh a bit.

'My name is Leandros Lestrange, but you may call me Leo.'

'I'm glad to make your acquaintance. Hermione Granger,' she replied, bowing low enough to demonstrate her willingness to learn without making her look like a fool – she hoped.

His eyes followed her bow. Then, he sighed again, offering a curt bow in return. 'Well, I suppose it could've been worse. Have you seen Harry or Draco?'

'I think they're in their dormitory,' she replied, subtly trying to evade Leo's unblinking, judging gaze.

'I see. Thank you for your time.' Once again, he inclined his head before he walked off.

They're supposed to be siblings? While Amadina might be Tracey's evil twin, Leo seems more like someone who believes in authority. Or did I get that wrong? How can they possibly be siblings?!

Hermione was still nibbling on her quill, her essay forgotten in front of her when Tracey let herself fall into another chair next to her. 'I'm beat,' she complained in her high-pitched voice. 'What's with everyone messing with me today?!'

'I, er, think you annoyed them a bit during the train ride, you know,' said Hermione with a little smile.

'What?! But that was all in good fun! No need to get me into trouble like that – at all!' Tracey hit the armrest in frustration. 'Anyway, what are you up to?'

'What? Oh, well, nothing really. I wanted to get a start on Flitwick's essay but something came up.'

'Nice! We can do it together; we'll be done in no time, and I might even have an evening off this week.'

'No,' said Hermione thoughtfully, oblivious to Tracey's disappointed and somewhat pitiable look of helplessness. 'I think I'd rather not. You know, Leo's just introduced himself.'

'Oh?' asked Tracey, her expression changing within a fraction of a second. 'What did you think?'

'He's...okay? I mean, he wasn't as hostile as Amadina, but he seemed a bit, well, cold?'

'Nah, don't let it worry you; he's always like that. Unless he's on an adventure, of course.'

'Adventure?' Hermione repeated, confused.

'Exactly!'

Tracey grinned, and Hermione got the impression that her informant didn't want to spoil the surprise. 'Anyway,' Hermione began anew, following up on something she'd observed quite a while ago. 'What are their nicknames?'

'Excuse me?' asked Tracey, blinking furiously.

'Well, you call Greengrass "Daphy" or "Sweetie", and, for some reason, you insist on calling me "Honey". I assume that's not something that only applies to the both of us, right? So, what are their cutesy pet names?'

Tracey's eyes positively sparkled. 'You're, like, only the fourth to ever pick up on that, Honey! Leo is Lucky!' she declared proudly.

'Lucky?' Hermione echoed, just to be sure.

The small witch sniggered at that. 'You'll learn to understand.'

'And his sister?'

'Oh, I'm so glad you asked! Amy is-'

Without a warning, a hand shot out from behind Tracey and pressed itself firmly over her lips. 'If you tell her, we're going to have words, Tracey,' Hermione heard the elder Lestrange growl.

Tracey nodded pointedly, and the hand was withdrawn. 'And Amy is...just Amy! Yes, who'd have thought! Sometimes, simple is best, don't you think?'

Hermione smiled a brittle little smile at her, not sure what to make of that, her eyes following Amadina as she yawned and entered the dormitories. 'And Draco and Harry?'

'I'm currently under contract not to reveal Draco's super cool alias,' she said very stiffly, saluting cutely.

'He's paying you not to tell others?' Hermione asked in-between her laughs.

'He sure is!'

'And Harry?'

'Doesn't have one,' said Tracey promptly, her smile faltering a bit.

'Why not?' inquired Hermione, somewhat taken aback.

The other girl shrugged impassively, turning around just as Leo dragged the pair of Harry and Draco down the stairs and out of the common room, while the prefects pointedly chose to look the other way. 'Didn't feel like it.'

~BLVoD~

'Come on, guys! I need you to come with me. I've found something extremely interesting!' said Leo excitedly.

'And what exactly would that be?' Harry asked carefully.

'I'll have to show you! Come on, let's get going!'

'Are we really going to follow Leo on one of his wild-goose chases? Through the castle and in the dead of night?' Harry asked warily. 'That hardly seems wise.'

'Sure seems like it.' Draco smirked at him. 'I've kind of missed it, too, you know. You set out to find the funny bird with the strangely coloured wings only to stumble upon the Chimeras that had escaped from some kind of asylum. I don't know anyone else who can make these kinds of things happen on a regular basis!'

'That's hardly fair,' Leo pointed out with a scowl, taking another turn towards the staircase that'd lead them to the main level. 'It was only that one Chimera!'

Harry pinched his nose, gripping his wand extra tightly for whatever there was to come. 'Let's just get it over with. So? Where are we going?'

'The Forbidden Forest, naturally,' explained Leo as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'WHAT?' shouted Draco, suddenly looking a great deal less glib.

'Leo, you did listen to what the geezer said at the feast, didn't you?' asked Harry in a defeated tone, dreading the answer.

'Of course, I did,' he said, smiling enthusiastically at him. 'That's what piqued my curiosity, after all. I mean, what if I was to get lost in there at some point in time? What if I had to attend detention in there because I got framed by Draco again?'

'I don't think they do detentions in the Forbidden Forest, you know,' interjected Harry reasonably. 'Not entering the forest seems the whole point of the "forbidden" part, wouldn't you agree?'

'And you realise we could get detentions because we're out of bounds and out after curfew?' Draco asked as they peered around another corner, checking for teachers or prefects.

'Please don't be ridiculous, Draco. This is a school project! How can we be out of bounds while preparing ourselves for the benefit of our education?!' Leo insisted earnestly.

'Rather easily, it seems,' remarked Harry dryly.

Two corridors away from the main gate, Filch's pet pest was, unwelcome and detested, stalking the castle, on the prowl for any breach of the rules.

'I say we kick her,' said Draco in a low voice and with a mean smile.

'Jinx,' voted Leo. 'It'll get us Filch of our backs if he's worried sick, too. Is it true he's a squib?'

'Dunno,' replied Draco. 'But I've heard the rumour.'

'I think he is.' Harry carefully aimed his wand. 'I'm for jinxing, too, by the way.' He kneeled down, carefully supporting his wand arm with his left so that he wouldn't miss the feline that was a good eighty yards down the corridor. 'Silencio! Diminuendo!' he whispered.

Like a targeted, multi-coloured twin-bolt of lightning, the two charms raced through the darkness and hit the cat dead centre on her forehead. Without delay, the size of Filch's constant companion seemed to decrease more and more until it wasn't possible to make it out in the shadowy corridor anymore.

'Nice one! I bet Filch will go mental when he can't find her!' yelled Draco, causing both Harry and Leo 'Shush!' at him.

'How long will the shrinking last?' asked Leo as they hastened towards the front portal.

'Not too long. I don't want Dumbledore on my case,' Harry replied.

'A pity. That filthy flea-ridden bedside carpet looks better now that she'd fit into a matchbox.'

'Well, if Filch doesn't get Dumbledore, Flitwick or McGonagall to sort it out, it might still last until next week, so look forward to Filch's outbreak in the Great Hall tomorrow! I somehow doubt Snape or Aenor would bother.'

Draco chuckled appreciatively. Leo, however, looked at him questioningly. 'Aenor?'

'Not you, too!' soughed Harry. 'She's alright, okay? And, no, it's not because she looks like a goddess descended from the heavens!'

'She does though, doesn't she?' commented Draco with an obscene grin. 'Unlike those clumping female friends of ours.'

'Come on, Draco. Daphne's not too bad. As long as she keeps her temper, she's quite graceful actually,' said Leo, just as they cleared the last corner.

'But she always does lose it, so I don't see your point,' the Malfoy heir shot back, looking unconvinced.

'Can the both of you shut up now? This is no camping trip!' snarled Harry.

'Yes, sir,' drawled Draco sarcastically.

The main door was, thankfully, only locked from the inside. Just to be on the safe side, Draco made a temporary copy of the key while they were at it.

'Good one,' said Harry. 'That is bound to come in handy.'

'It'll vanish in a few hours, though.'

'Oh, in that case, you can use a mould of wax to get a negative. With that, you can cast a new key with some easily heated material like lead or tin. It won't even take ten minutes.'

Both Harry and Draco looked at Leo.

He shrugged, rubbing his head embarrassedly. 'Living with my family rubs off at some point – you can't help it, trust me.'

The door opened with a creak that Harry was sure was bound to wake the whole castle. With a swish of his wand, he silenced the old hinges.

'Nice!'

The weather outside was just as friendly and welcoming as Harry remembered it. Fiendish gales soaked his robes within seconds, every new gust containing half the lake's worth of water, by his rough estimate. Speaking of the lake, the constant flashing of lightning illuminated the lake every few seconds, and Harry's brow creased with worry when he saw the entire surface made up of powerful eddies.

'This is nuts!' shouted Draco over the howling of the wind.

'Impervious!' Leo tapped their clothes with the tip of his wand.

'Oh! Should've thought of that one,' admitted Harry.

'Let's just get the worst out of the way please,' pleaded Draco. 'Is it really such a brilliant idea to wander into a forest during a thunderstorm?'

'Please!' said Leo, waving a hand. 'The chances of getting hit are still really low. And even then, you have a good chance of surviving the first strike.'

Draco made a face.

'What's going on Draco? I thought you were frolicking, serenely looking forward to our trip with Leo?'

'I think I'm reconsidering right now,' Draco returned, looking somewhat pale.

'Come on, guys. This way!' Leo led them towards the forest, the rural trail now hardly more than a sea of mud. Draco and Harry waded through the grime, both smirking when they realised that Leo was casting cleaning charms on his shoes and robes every few seconds.

In Hagrid's hut shone no light, nor did Harry hear the friendly barking of that mutt of Hagrid's. Either they were incredibly lucky, or Hagrid had, possibly at the behest of Dumbledore, sought refuge in the castle, too.

With one last sprint, they finally reached the edge of the forest.

'I know this isn't the time, guys, but I've heard all manner of rumours about the Forbidden Forest! Like werewolves, vampires, and stuff lurking in here!'

'Those are just tales and legends, Draco,' said Leo.

'So, what exactly are we here for, Leo?' asked Harry, seeking shelter from the rain under a tree he judged considerably smaller than others nearby.

'Look at this!' Slowly, he opened his hand. An incredibly white thread of such thinness that it was only visible because Leo had curled it up into a ball lay in his palm.

'That's unrefined Acromatula silk,' observed Harry calmly, gripping his wand.

'Oh, no! No, no, no, no!' cried Draco. 'Just no!'

'Well spotted, Harry. I've found quite a bit of it next to Hagrid's hut. I think he gets it from within the forest. I had a first look and found some old webbing.'

'And you want us to...what?' asked Draco in despair, his eyes seeking out the comforting shadows of Hogwarts.

'Well, have a look, of course. You're with me, right, Harry?'

'Since we're here already, might as well have a look. But let's be careful with this one.'

'Harry,' asked Draco with the voice of someone rummaging through his every pocket for the fourth time in search of his lost keys, 'can you actually deal with an Acrumantula?'

'Well, two or three? I think so. If there's a whole nest with a broodmother, you better run as fast as humanly possible.'

'That's not entirely reassuring...'

'Oh, come on, Draco. Where's your lust for adventure?!' Leo urged him on.

'I knew I should've gone to bed early today,' whined Draco, pointing his wand in front of him, the tip illuminating the patch ahead.

Strangely enough, the forest seemed to dampen the weather to some effect. Five minutes in, the thunder was decidedly more bearable, and another ten minutes later, they couldn't hear it at all. The only thing that didn't change was the darkness. It wasn't pitch black, but Harry knew which of the two he'd have preferred. In the forest, there was always a bit of moisture that just barely reflected the light from above on a leaf, or, even worse, the eye of some creature in the underbrush.

The silence, on the other hand, was complete.

It was as if the ancient and magical forest was shutting all outside noises out, screening them from Harry, Draco, and Leo. The occasional breaking twig and their, due to the uncomfortably sticky air, increasingly heavy breathing were their only company during a journey through the dark, unknowable, impenetrable forest that continued to hide all of its inhabitants. Half an hour into the forest, Draco started complaining about wishing the lightning back so they could see something. 'This is crazy!' he hissed, looking around nervously. 'Are you sure we're still on the right track, Leo?'

'Positive. We need to leave the track when we pass by two ancient yew trees that grew into one another. I think that's about five minutes from here.'

The path they'd followed so far seemed to be thinning with every step they took, until, eventually, they had to actively look for it. 'That's them!' exclaimed Leo, pointing towards two magnificent trees that stood beside the way. For a moment, Harry rather suspected he saw a Bowtruckle vanish when Draco's wandlight fell on it, but he couldn't be sure. Maybe it was just hopeful imagination.

'This way, now.' Leo happily left the trail and disappeared into the thicket within seconds. Harry followed, his wand in his hand. Draco looked from the trail, as pitiful as it might have been, to the coppice his friends had just entered. With one last regretful groan, he raced after them.

'Careful. I don't think it's much further. Look for webbing in the trees or any signs of movement. Try not to make too many sounds; even though spiders don't have ears, they can still hear fairly well.'

'How does that work?' asked Draco disgruntled.

'Fine hairs on their legs,' added Leo.

'If that's true, we're in luck; thanks to the moisture and rain, their ability to sense vibrations in the air should be impeded.' Harry crouched down, lighting his own wand just enough to illuminate the ground in front of him. 'Still, better be careful.'

As silently as possible, the three Slytherins sneaked through the woods. Being quiet in the middle of a wild forest wasn't exactly an easy feat, though, especially in the dark. Leo moved like a jaguar, always finding some spot that wouldn't disturb any branches, leaves or stones. Harry and Draco fared noticeably worse, their feet getting stuck in some crevice or root or losing grip on the treacherously slippery wet and moss-covered earth.

'Stop!' called Harry after a while. 'How come it's so silent? Even during the night, we should at least have heard a bird or something. Leo?'

Leo frowned, turning half-way around, leaning against a big stone. 'I'm not sure. Now that you mention it, it does seem odd, especially for this forest. There's supposed to be centaurs and all manner of things in here.'

'Werewolves?' Draco demanded suddenly.

'Well, nobody has ever reported back stumbling upon a werewolf.'

'And how many people get lost in here and don't report back?' hissed Draco urgently.

'Some. But don't conc-' A sudden jet of fierce orange light passed him by half an inch. Confused, Leo looked at Harry's outstretched wand. 'Harry?'

'Calmly step away from there and towards us, Leo. Slow and steady.'

The younger Lestrange looked completely perplexed for a second, then he obeyed without further question. When he'd finally reached a waxen Draco and Harry, who had a drop of sweat running down his face, he turned around.

What he'd taken for a big, lumpy stone, was, in fact, not a stone at all – it was much, much worse in every way possible. It was a very, very large and very hairy spider with mandibles so thick they could probably decapitate all three of them at once. Thankfully, it didn't move.

'I think it's dead,' whispered Harry eventually.

'Look how big that monster is!' whimpered Draco, his wand trembling. 'That beast's easily twelve feet long! Are you satisfied now, Leo?'

'What are you talking about, Draco? This is where it gets fun!' Without a care in the world, Leo approached the dead king of spiders again. 'I think it's a near full-grown specimen. There really might be a nest of them here. Incredible!'

'Anything else you can tell?' asked Harry, who, despite Draco's pleading hissing noises, walked over too.

'Not really. Only that it seems to have tripped.'

'Tripped?'

'Yes, well, one of its legs is injured. If I didn't know better, I'd say it died while in flight.'

Silence seemed to press in on them from all directions.

'What could possibly kill an Acromantula?!' asked Draco in a screechy voice that vaguely reminded Harry of Tracey.

'And there's something else...' Leo took a step back, and then, to Draco's horror, kicked the spider with all his might. Before Draco could do more than scream in terror though, the corpse of the arachnid collapsed back upon itself. 'That's a bit unsettling,' Leo said over Draco's ongoing screams of dread.

'What is it?' asked Harry, offhandedly swishing his wand to silence Draco.

'It doesn't have a drop of blood left in its body. There are predators that suck the blood of their victims, but, going by the glint of the eyes, the state of the wounds and the temperature of the body, I'd say this spider hasn't been dead for more than an hour.'

Draco pleadingly shook Harry's robes, mouthing 'Vampire!' with all his might.

'Vampires don't feed on spiders, Draco,' said Leo calmly.

Eventually, Harry grew tired of the shaking and cancelled his charm.

'That's totally not the point!' disagreed Draco, obviously willing to get as much information out of his mouth as possible before he was silenced again. 'I don't care if it's a vampire or something else. This is nasty! Please let's go back...'

'We've come this far,' began Leo, looking at Harry.

'Well, might as well get to the bottom of this,' Harry agreed with a shrug. 'Plus, it might turn out worth knowing what killed the Acromantula.'

Draco fell to his knees, hitting the soft earth with his fists. 'I don't believe you guys! How come the both of you are not in Gryffindor?!'

'How come you're not in Hufflepuff?' returned Harry with a smirk.

'WHAT?' shouted Draco, scandalised. 'Take that back, Harry!' But Harry only laughed, running after Leo, who'd already marched on. 'Take it back!' Draco screamed, running after them.

Slowly, the sound of the outside world was being restored, despite them still being very much surrounded by nothing but all manners of plants and fungi on every side. To Draco's and even Harry's increasing concern, the direction they were walking continued to be extremely, suspiciously empty. The weather, Draco commented sarcastically at some point just for something to say, at least seemed willing to calm them down with what it currently did best: renewed glistening bolts of lightning that blinded them for seconds and the roaring thunder that followed without delay. Despite the relatively thick roof of leaves and trees and even giant ferns, rain still managed to make their journey even more uncomfortable. And yet there was still not a single trace of any animal or beast in sight.

A few minutes later, they stumbled upon the apparent reason for the renewed increase in volume – a giant clearing. Whistling gales bent the trees, and lightning struck the centre of the clearing with such tremendous might that the earth trembled even a hundred yards away, dirt and mud spraying high into the air. The air above seemed to swirl in a worryingly circular manner.

'Merlin...' whispered Harry, awed. He had really good eyesight in the dark, and the fraction of a second had been enough for him to fully comprehend the scene before him.

'What?' asked both Leo and Draco.

'Draco?'

'Yes, Harry?' Malfoy responded in a husky voice and without any of his usual cool. He'd lost it somewhere along the way.

'I want you not to scream.' With an exaggerated forward swish of his wand, a giant bulb of light left his wand and travelled through the air towards the middle of the glade.

Every inch between the trees, every possible space was filled with webbing. The trees, the grass, even the big hole in the ground. But that wasn't what worried Harry anymore.

What really did worry him where the fifty lifeless carcasses of a whole Acromantula colony that hung bloodless and warningly in the webs or lay on the floor, their sightless eyes wide in horror, their legs bent in obvious, desperate attempts to flee.

'I suggest we leave – NOW!'