Final spurt...?

The class was bustling. To their teacher's annoyance, that wasn't due to the jokes he'd just cracked.

'Yes, well, settle down, everyone!' Prewett clapped his hands twice to get their attention – not that it did him any good. It was only when he produced a ringing whistle that the class finally fell silent. Prewett sighed. 'Please, let's not get overeager. Take your seats.'

'Professor?' One of the Ravenclaws with whom they shared History of Magic this year raised his hand.

'Yes, Mr Fawcett?'

'Do you know Harry Black?'

'I think he was on the verge of hexing you!' someone else remarked.

'Cursing, more like,' someone mumbled, not quietly enough.

'And did you guys see the look on Greengrass' face?'

Most of the class nodded to that last comment, and, collectively, all eyes were set upon their teacher again, silently demanding information.

'Listen, you lot, this isn't really a topic for this l-'

'Oh come on, Professor! You always said we should ask you whatever!' Fawcett insisted.

'Greengrass looked almost afraid of you,' remarked Draco innocently, ignoring Tracey's poisonous look. 'Did you do something to her?'

Prewett visibly stiffened. His eyes wandered the classroom, until, with a sigh, he seemed to reach a decision. 'Alright, alright! Listen up. I'm only telling you anything at all because I don't want you to believe whatever you might hear elsewhere. As far as I remember, Hogwarts' rumours aren't exactly known for their...veracity.'

Their teacher's gaze wandered over them fretfully, though the same certainly couldn't be said for the rest of the class. Most of the students were sitting at the edge of their seats, leaning forward in uncharacteristic attention.

'You need to understand that as an Auror you're sometimes confronted with...unpleasant stuff. Sometimes, the task itself is less than enjoyable, and sometimes what first seemed like a normal mission might get out of hand. In these situations, Aurors are trained not to make moral decisions – they're expected to do their duty.'

Professor Prewett kept silent for a few seconds, his lips slightly parted, apparently wondering how to proceed.

'What do you mean, Professor? Did something go wrong with Black or Greengrass?' asked Fawcett in a hushed voice.

'Well, er, you could say that. Listen, kids, I'm not allowed to give away mission details to outsiders, especially not minors. Let's just say something went wrong, and Miss Greengrass is, understandably, a bit upset with me...'

'So it's got something to do with Greengrass, then? Did you try to arrest her? Or her family? And things got out of hand?' Padma Patil called from the backline with palpable curiosity.

Prewett visibly winced. 'I, er, didn't say that,' he insisted stiffly.

'Come on, Professor...'

'No, enough is enough already! Let's get to the actual lesson, why don't we. You might find it a bit more interesting than dusty stories, too!' With a weak grin, he walked towards the centre of the room, dramatically raising his arms, not unlike a preacher speaking to the masses, oblivious to their protests and pleas. 'I'd like to present to you another great hero of modern times, the current Head-Auror of the joint special-forces of the International Confederation of Wizards; ladies and gentlemen, I give you the man whose full name I'm not allowed to disclose: my close friend, Antonius!'

With a bang of his wand, Prewett produced a small firework and also, Hermione suspected, seeing the disbelieving looks of most Ravenclaws and the sneers of the Slytherins, a bit of background applause. The door opened, and the auburn-haired giant entered, rolling his eyes at Prewett's spell and bowing politely to the class. 'Good day, students of Hogwarts.'

Hermione perked up, her eyes focused on the newcomer in front. Harry had been right, she had no doubt; the man had a very subtle accent, even if she couldn't be sure of its origin.

'Antonius, these are my second-year History of Magic students. Class, if you have any questions or in case you want to get a second opinion from another great Auror,' he winked at them cheekily, 'feel free to ask Antonius whatever comes to your mind. Just, er, remember that he might not be able to answer freely,' he added as an afterthought.

'Sir, where are you from?' Hermione fired away immediately.

The foreign Auror's eyes immediately found her, and his brow wrinkled a bit. 'From central Europe, Miss Granger.' The man had a deep, firm voice, though he seemed to ponder every word. His eyes, on the other hand, were not as lazy and flickered from student to student.

Hermione blinked, stupefied. 'How do you know my name, sir?'

'I've studied the names of all the staff and students currently at Hogwarts in preparation for my visit.'

A small 'Wow!' of admiration could be heard here and there, and Hermione couldn't help agreeing.

'Excuse me, sir?' Tracey stood up.

'Yes, Miss Davis?' he replied after a second in which he apparently consulted his mental list of students.

'Are you here on a mission from the ICW?'

'That I am, though you need not concern yourself with our work. We are not allowed to discuss it, and your chances of making me reveal something by accident are...negligible. Just stay out from under our feet, and we'll take care of...things.'

'What things?' someone yelled from the back.

But the Auror, Antonius, didn't even acknowledge the question.

Eventually, Parkinson raised her hand. 'Do you make a lot of money as Head-Auror of the ICW?'

Prewett immediately barked that rowdy laughter of his. The giant, however, merely smirked, apparently amused. 'It pays the rent.'

Again, Tracey raised her hand. That was pretty unusual, Hermione thought. Tracey was in any class except Potions (where she constantly embarrassed herself) and Defence (where she was constantly embarrassed by Rose), rather quiet – well, quiet in the sense that she didn't participate voluntarily in the lesson, even if she seldom actually kept her mouth shut. 'What sort of qualification should we aim for if we want to follow in your footsteps, sir?'

The question seemed to further amuse the man. 'Ah, I've been told that this would be the hardest class to evade questions in. A house famed for its wit and another for its guile; how very amusing.'

Tracey clicked her tongue in annoyance, looking at the man with grudging respect.

'Sir!' Hermione raised her hand again. 'Is it very difficult to work in an organisation that stands in-between the very distinct and contrasting laws of many of its member states?'

'An insightful question. I believe you are Muggle-born, Miss Granger?'

'I am, sir,' she replied without hesitation, choosing to ignore Parkinson's sniggering.

'Good. Then kindly imagine a loose confederation of all the states in the Muggle-world with nearly no executive power and extensive responsibilities in times of crisis.'

Hermione made a face. 'I think I know what you mean, sir, and it sounds like a nightmare.'

'A fitting description. Just so everyone understands: Me and my colleagues being here required two international negotiations, three meetings between ministers, about thirty-nine floo-calls and more owls than inhabit this swath of Scotland. And those were the official channels only, I might add.'

'That doesn't sound too bad,' argued a Ravenclaw in the back. 'It is an international joint venture, after all.'

The man sighed and shook his head. Prewett clapped him on the back in a commiserative manner, giving them with the kind of smile an adult might show a child who promised he'd fix the world. 'I don't think you understand, my dear students. The negotiations lasted for nearly two weeks non-stop despite there being a law that required their attendance. That's bureaucracy for you.'

'So there's an international law that demands your presence here at Hogwarts?' Tracey pounced on Prewett's answer, her eyes glued to the man she'd obviously identified as the weak link.

The auburn giant gave Prewett, who looked apologetic, one of those looks that that carried as much information as your average scientific essay. All the class, or so it seemed, stared at Prewett's silently moving lips. 'Listen up, everyone. This whole situation will be dealt with in the coming days. I can't tell you more, but rest assured that we've got everything completely under control here.'

'What's the biggest creature you've ever had to deal with?' yelled Draco into the silence. 'Do they have hunting squads at the ICW?'

Prewett immediately focused on Draco's question, though he could do little to dissuade the knowing looks Tracey, Hermione and some of the others shared.

~BLVoD~

'What's with Draco?' Tracey kicked at some random door on their way to the Great Hall to vent her frustration. 'It's like he's trying to sabotage us!'

'I, er, maybe...nevermind!'

'What is it?'

'Well, the way Leo tells it, Draco wasn't exactly happy to have been included in their little expedition into the forest. So maybe...' Hermione's voice trailed off meaningfully.

'You think he'd go so far because he's afraid of getting roped into this stuff again?'

'He, er, seems irrationally afraid of hanging out with Leo, too. I found that odd because they seemed like pretty good friends, to be honest.'

'They are.' Tracey pursed her lips cutely, her brow fiercely wrinkled. 'Well, whatever. It's not his choice in the end. I think he's being a baby about it.'

'What do you mean, not his choice?' asked Hermione, confused.

But Tracey only laughed, her expression changing from contemplative to happy-go-lucky within the blink of an eye. 'Leo has this...thing, you know. He does really stupid stuff from time to time, and no matter what you do, somehow you'll always end up tagging along. It's part of the special Lestrange School of Magic – that's my theory at least.'

'The "Lestrange School of Magic"?' Hermione repeated with a smile.

'Yep! Like, don't try to talk behind Amy's back – ever! The walls have ears, I swear!'

Hermione laughed.

'I'm serious!'

'Yes, well, okay,' said Hermione diplomatically, trying not to grin.

'There's no way she could've known!' Tracey grumbled.

'I'm sure there wasn't.'

'I was totally alone, you know. There was nothing; nothing, I tell you!'

'Yes, Tracey, I'm sure,' said Hermione soothingly, startled to recognise the tone she used. It was the very same her mother had used whenever she'd told her about colourful sparks, moving objects and vanishing toys in her childhood. She looked at Tracey, whose head barely reached her shoulders. The little witch was still engrossed in her tirade, but suddenly, Hermione didn't find it quite as funny anymore.

~BLVoD~

Harry and Daphne missed lunch, the rest of the classes, and dinner that day. When Tracey and Hermione eventually entered the Slytherin Dungeon, anxious to look for their friends, they found Harry sleeping with his head in Daphne's lap.

Tracey threw herself into one of her favourite armchairs, sighing like someone who had endured days of physical conditioning. 'How are you, Daphy?' she asked as soon as she'd curled up.

'Fine,' Greengrass returned dismissively.

'Er, P-' Hermione paused to rethink her approach at Tracey's scalding behest. 'You should probably know that person talked a bit...you know.'

Daphne shrugged, looking impassively down at the sleeping Harry.

'What are you doing, Sweetie?' said Tracey when Daphne seemed, once again, lost in thought.

'What? I, uh, Harry fell asleep!'

'Like that?' Tracey asked, raising an accusatory eyebrow, determined to dig deeper.

'Well, maybe not exactly like that, but I couldn't let him sleep sitting up, now could I?'

Tracey sighed dramatically. 'You're hopeless! Why is he asleep anyway?'

'Don't ask me, I didn't do anything! We talked a bit, and he was pretty wan the whole time and then – wham! – he's asleep.'

'Again?' Tracey's mouth twitched, and her eyes bored into her best friend with a teasing glint.

'Don't you dare start with that rubbish again!' snapped Greengrass. 'He's...just tired. I know t-that person gets to him as much as he does to me. It's just that he doesn't usually show it.'

'Maybe Harry should visit Madam Pomfrey tomorrow after all,' said Hermione.

'What?' Daphne's head jerked around at once. 'He's just sleepy!'

'No, Hermione's right. Sleeping through a whole day is funny, twice is strange, falling asleep while talking a few days later is...definitely not normal.'

'You think he's ill?' asked Greengrass in a shrill voice, looking at the boy who slept in her lap as if he might vanish the next second.

'Well, better safe than sorry,' said Tracey appeasingly. 'I'm sure it's nothing. Anyway, listen to this, Prewett let slip that there's some kind of legal situation going on. That's why Antonius, that's the tall one's name, by the way, and his squad are stationed around here.'

Daphne looked at Tracey as if the girl had proposed snogging Draco. It couldn't be clearer that the forest wasn't even on the list of her concerns right now.

'Alright, alright.' Tracey stood up, yawning. 'We'll talk about that tomorrow. Honey, would you mind telling Leo what we found out?'

'What? Oh, er, sure.'

Hermione watched Tracey leave with a certain amount of trepidation. Even after all this time, she still didn't feel quite comfortable alone with Greengrass. Turning her head, she looked at her from the corner of her eye. The girl's enviably glossy blond hair was hastily tucked behind her ears so that it wouldn't get in the way of her gazing. She looked at Harry like the most fearful – if devoted – nurse in history.

'Are you in love with Harry?'

The words sailed through the silence of the common room for a whole three seconds before Hermione realised that, shockingly, they must've been hers.

Daphne looked up, blinking, surprised by Hermione's mere presence. She quickly averted her eyes again. 'You're starting to sound like Tracey now, Granger. Don't annoy me with that kind of crazy talk.'

Hermione, still taken aback by her own daring, just stared at her counterpart. Yet they both held their peace. When Greengrass didn't look up again for nearly four minutes, Hermione considered just leaving Daphne to her dream world like that, but then, surprisingly, the girl spoke up, her eyes still fixed on Harry. 'He's saved my life twice, did you know?'

Hermione stared at the girl who refused to meet her eyes. 'I did not,' she responded in what she hoped was a compassionate tone.

Greengrass opened her mouth again, but, apparently, Hermione wasn't the only one struggling to find words. Greengrass looked annoyed, before she, even more incomprehensibly, giggled lightly. 'I really hate this kind of talk. I'm no good with silences. It's mostly Harry who knows me like this.'

'I, er, didn't get that impression, to be honest,' said Hermione, riding her surge of bravery with reckless abandon.

But Greengrass simply smiled, moving her hand as if to touch Harry before she seemed to think better of it and retracted it almost regretfully. 'I know I turn into a fury whenever Harry's concerned, and I don't deny that I'm thrilled that I'm the only one who gets away with it. You may think whatever you choose to, Granger; choose to think that he's little more than my plaything or believe that I'm senselessly throwing myself at him even though it's fairly obvious that I'm probably little more than a sister to him. I don't care. I really don't care. I'm happy no matter what.'

~BLVoD~

'So, there's...nothing?'

'Yes, Miss Greengrass. He certainly does look a bit peaky, but I just can't find anything wrong with him.'

'Thanks, Mums!' exclaimed Harry sarcastically. Both Madam Pomfrey and Daphne sent a glare his way, though Hermione, who'd tagged along to the infirmary, had to stifle a laugh.

'I appreciate you keeping an eye on him, though. If anything else comes up, don't hesitate to drag him up here.'

'I will,' agreed Greengrass with a nasty look of determination.

'Good. To be honest, I get a bit worried when he isn't in here every fortnight. This has to be some kind of record for you, Harry.'

'Thank you for your concern, Madame Pomfrey,' returned Harry with a roll of his eyes.

The matron huffed and shooed them out of the infirmary. 'Well, if anything comes up, you know where to find me. Now off you go.'

'I didn't know you were on a first-name basis with Madame Pomfrey, Harry,' said Hermione after the door closed behind them with a snap.

Harry shrugged. 'She's kind of giving me lessons every once in a while.'

'What, on healing?' Hermione couldn't help but let a bit of envy bleed through.

'Yes, Hermione, healing. Keep it to yourself, though. She's not, strictly speaking, allowed to teach.'

'Private lessons? That's so nice! Are they difficult?'

'Hm. I don't find them too difficult, but the subject is certainly fairly advanced,' admitted Harry in a straightforward manner.

'That sounded a bit like something Draco might've said,' remarked Hermione to rile him up.

'Please, you two have no right to call me a swot. Even Snape is struggling to come up with anything degrading to say to you lately, Daphne. And you, Hermione, I think it's been weeks since anyone got the spellwork down before you in Transfiguration, and you're practically on top of the class in every other subject too.'

'You mean to say it's okay to sound like Draco as long as you can back it up?' quipped Hermione with a bit of a smile.

'Can we please stop talking about that mutt?' said Daphne with a sneer. 'I still feel like wearing dragon hide gloves whenever he's around.'

Hermione didn't feel like adding salt to the wound, though she didn't exactly feel like speaking out in Draco's favour either.

Harry's eyes darted between the both of them. 'I've been wondering about that. Frankly, I suspected you'd get Amy involved to have your revenge, Daphne.'

'What gives you the impression I haven't?' returned Daphne with a sweet smile.

'I, uh, haven't heard that he's been to the infirmary lately, that's why.'

'He hasn't tried to ride his broom yet, probably.'

'Do I want to know?' asked Harry cautiously.

'I've been brainstorming with Amy, and we decided that it's too difficult to hex a racing broom. But you know what?'

'What?' asked Harry, though Hermione thought they might be better off not knowing.

'It turns out it's pretty simple to just hammer a few sharp needles in that we've had Au-' Daphne cleared her throat, pointedly not looking at Hermione, 'that we've had Amy's mum cast concealment charms on – among other things.'

Hermione hissed in imaginative pain. Harry just seemed to sigh at that. 'It's pretty mean to ruin the one thing he tends to enjoy at Hogwarts, you know?'

'Thanks! That was my idea, actually,' said a beaming Daphne, looking as if she'd gotten great praise. 'I just hope they lift this stupid ban already, so we can have a laugh!'

'Anyway, I need to be off, see you girls later.'

'Where are you off to? We've got a free period before Potions,' said Hermione, looking curious.

'I, er, I...' Harry took a few breaths and then said as fast as possible, 'I've got an arrangement with Aenor.'

Daphne's goofy smile turned frosty within a second. 'Aenor?'

'I didn't know you were on a first-name basis with her, too!' said Hermione, taken aback – a reaction Harry obviously much preferred to Greengrass' barely suppressed hostility. Maybe that's why he subtly turned towards her. That way, he didn't have to see Daphne's fierce scowl.

'Oh, well, I, er-'

'How often do you have these little meetings with Rose?' growled Greengrass menacingly.

'About once a week? Look, it's nothing special, Daphne. We just do a little bit of duelling or something, and then we talk things through in her private study...'

Hermione could instantaneously tell that Harry should have cut his sentence a bit shorter. Daphne's left eye twitched a bit. 'In her private study,' the girl repeated coolly.

'Yes, well, it's a bit cosier than duelling chambers, right?'

Daphne stared at him, her expression as stony as the next mountain massif.

'Is that why you were late last lesson?' asked Hermione carefully, making an effort not to jump to conclusions.

'What? Oh, yes. Didn't get much sleep that night, and the both of us kind of forgot the time that morning.'

This time, Hermione, too, stared wordlessly at him.

'A-anyway,' tried Harry again, fidgeting under the intense gazes of both the girls. 'I'd better be off. I'll be seeing you in Potions!'

Hermione's eyes followed him until he vanished around the next corner. Then, involuntarily, she turned towards Greengrass, who followed suit. They looked at each other for near a full minute.

'Do you think he did that intentionally?' asked Hermione, trying to cope with the situation. 'I'm not sure if he's that innocent or rotten to the core!'

'I don't know. I know he can be dull in that regard, but can anyone be that dull?'

Hermione and Greengrass exchanged another hesitant look. 'It's not like Harry to say something like that. If it was what it sounded like, then the only reason to say something like that would be to get someone jealous. And that's not something Harry'd do, right?'

'Right,' replied Daphne, visibly relieved. 'Right!'

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. 'Still, there's, er, something that's been giving me pause lately.'

'What?' The other girl eyed her suspiciously, still a bit shaken.

'You remember that conversation you had at the end of last year about engagements? I think Harry's been acting a bit suspicious, what do you think about this...'

~BLVoD~

'There's nothing! Niente! Nada! Nihil! Oudén! Like, absolutely nothing!' cried Tracey, slumping down and resting her head on the pages.

'Please be careful with the book, Tracey. You wouldn't want to accidentally damage the parchment,' said Leo calmly.

'Oh, I won't be damaging it accidentally, don't you worry! Come on, Leo! I've gone over it twice, there's nothing in there about the stuff in the forest or the ICW.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes!'

'Are you absolutely, absolutely sure?' Leo asked again, looking dead serious.

'Yes, I told you!'

'Would you bet 50 Galleons there isn't anything in there?' he asked casually.

'I, uh, well, when I say I'm sure I mean...' It was almost embarrassing to see how fast Tracey's vigour ebbed away.

'I propose you look through it for a third time, then.'

Tracey stuck out her tongue and shot him an ugly look, but nevertheless started, once more, on the first page of the subject index.

Again, Hermione, Daphne, Leo and Tracey bowed silently over their tomes, pondering their contents, browsing for any clue, no matter how small or insignificant.

The silence lasted about four minutes until Tracey once again lost it a bit. 'I don't even know what we're looking for!'

'Native predators that can kill Acromantulas. Magical Beasts that the ICW is involved with. Magical Laws concerning such beasts. Or maybe even something about this Antonius person.'

'I don't like him,' proclaimed Greengrass predictably. 'He was very rude to Harry!'

'And I bet Harry was the poster child of politeness, wasn't he?' Tracey retorted touchily. 'I don't know about this Antonius person, but at least he's not a dork like P-' She coughed meaningfully. 'Like that other guy.'

'Girls, please concentrate. We still have about half the library to work through.'

'This is ridiculous, Leo! There's nothing in here!'

'We haven't looked through more than a few dozen books yet, Tracey,' the younger Lestrange said reasonably.

'Yes, but shouldn't we have stumbled over something at least? Some mention of a name? It's like the entries are missing!' Tracey insisted hotly.

'That's ridiculous. This is a library!' said Hermione, affronted.

'Actually, Harry once confided in me that he believed the library to be a bit...selective with certain topics,' said Daphne with an overbearing little smile.

'Did he, now?' Leo looked up, considering this bit of news.

Hermione scowled. 'Even on the off-chance that's true, that doesn't mean this topic, in particular, has been scrubbed. We won't know until we have a proper look!'

'Thank you, Hermione. That was a very reasonable thing to say.' Leo nodded courteously in her direction before bowing over his book again with an air of having finished the discussion.

Daphne shrugged and continued reading as well. Tracey alone still looked agitated. She grumbled and moaned a bit, turning the pages with the utmost disinterest. But when nobody paid her any attention, she eventually quieted down and settled for levelling contemptuous glares at the books now and then.

Hermione flipped the page, willing her concentration to stay on topic. It was true; she'd never been so disappointed with her research yet, despite the fact that they were five people doing all the work. Or rather, they were five whenever Harry was present and Tracey felt like doing any actual work.

'Leo? Can you tell us anything else? You know, any kind of impression those things gave off?' she asked.

'Well, it's like I said: I don't know if it was one or more. My instinct would lean towards the latter though. They somehow killed the whole tribe of Acromantulas without a fight. In fact, the Acromantulas looked terrified, as if they'd never seen anything like it. Some of them had the blood sucked out of them. It was also uncommonly dark and quiet in the forest with most of the animals scattered or expelled. Whatever creature now calls it home also...flung us out of the clearing with a gust of wind.'

'That's absurd! Don't take it the wrong way, but it's no wonder Draco's taken his leave,' grouched Tracey.

'Oh, and I swear I could hear voices taunting me. I don't mind telling you they were a bit...disturbing.'

'What did the voices say? Did you hear them physically, or was it more of a telepathic kind of thing?' asked Greengrass.

'They didn't so much say anything at all. I didn't get the impression they were bothered with conversation. It was more like...a promise of what was to come: sounds of violence, terrified screaming, the sounds of something ripping apart – that sort of thing.'

'Have I mentioned yet that I really, really see Draco's point?' repeated Tracey with a pleading look at Greengrass.

But the other girl was, or so it seemed, working hard to impress Harry. 'Eyes to the book, Tracey! We're only looking for information. Nobody's forcing you to run into the forest, wand blazing.'

'That's what you say now! We all know how this is going to end up!'

'Eyes – book!' repeated Daphne slowly and emphatically. 'What is that you've got there anyway?'

Tracey rolled her eyes in desperation. 'English mythological poems and prose about magical stuff.'

Hermione sat straight up. 'That sounds fascinating! Please don't put it back; I think I might borrow it for a bit of light reading.'

'Light reading,' muttered Tracey, exasperated. She stood up, holding out one hand dramatically, pointing at some imaginary horizon. 'Listen to this rubbish:

Ere sun dies frore
And fervent hours wither:
Harken to the host of hoar,
Ere the sun dies frore.

Leman, leech and lordling all
Wherever ye art headed,
Ere ye see the sea smoke crawleth
Flee before the dreaded.

Ere glim dies stark
- I conjure thee -
The glebe lies dark;
Flee!
Lest thou see the venery in sables.

'It's ridiculous, it's stupid! People got away with anything back then, it seems. How can you even call this a poem?'

Hermione blinked. Then, she blinked again. 'Can you give me that, Tracey, please?'

'Do you mean to tell me you can make heads or tail of that hogwash?' asked Tracey incredulously.

'It's not that difficult. Leo, can you get me a dictionary just to make sure?'

The boy nodded and stood up at once.

'Actually,' started Daphne slowly, looking pensive.

'Don't you go there, too, Daphy! Just because it's old doesn't mean it's good!'

'No, no. I'm with you there, but, you know, I feel like I've heard that one before.'

Hermione looked up, stunned. 'You're positive it was the same poem, Greengrass?'

'I think so. It's...it's been a long time though.'

'But, I mean this isn't the kind of stuff you'd read to your children,' said Hermione. She looked at the faces of Tracey, Greengrass and the re-emerging Leo. 'Or would you?' she asked meekly.

'I've heard loads of stories like that growing up,' admitted Tracey. 'Didn't have to suffer that one, though, thank Merlin.'

'Me, too,' said Greengrass with a reminiscent smile.

'Definitely. Now that you mention it, Daphne, I think I remember something similar to this in a children's story.'

'A children's story?' Hermione asked, horrified. 'That's some dark stuff!'

'You mean darker than witches baking little, innocent Muggle children and eating them?' asked Leo mildly.

Hermione hesitated for just a second. 'Point taken.' Hermione had never presumed many of the more classical fairy-tales to be innocent, but looking at it from this perspective, they really were quite nasty and ugly.

Leo rubbed his chin thoughtfully, oblivious to Hermione's thought process, looking over her shoulder at the text Tracey had gladly shoved their way. 'I think the poem's about Dementors.'

Hermione, startled, looked up again, eyes widening. 'That's...brilliant! I think you're right, Leo!'

Leo nodded curtly, acknowledging her accolade. 'Sadly, that also means this isn't it.'

'But it wasn't a bad shot! It felt closer than anything we've had until now,' interposed Greengrass.

'True. We'd better start paying more attention to old stories, myths, and the like,' decided Hermione excitedly.

'Oh, no!' Tracey cried out in dismay.

'But maybe we should have someone more motivated have a look at it,' remarked Leo with a little smirk.

'Harry? Harry Black! Aw, Black isn't here, is he? Do you guys think he'll come later? Can I make an appointment? What do you think?'

Hermione turned, as did the rest of the group. Behind them stood a stocky Ravenclaw with whom they shared their History of Magic lesson. His eyes were darting around the room, inspecting every nook and cranny, apparently making sure Harry hadn't, for whatever inexplicable reason, been stuffed into some corner to hide him from view.

'Harry's not here. What do you want, Fawcett?' Daphne thrust out of her chair, her arms folded and looking at the newcomer with the utmost suspicion.

'Oh. I was just supposed to give you guys these, but I'd hoped... Ah, well. Can you give this to him, then? And Lestrange, could you give this to your sister, please? This is for you, Davis.' Fawcett produced three sealed bits of parchment, handing one to Tracey, one Leo, and, after briefly hesitating, the last one to Greengrass, who'd already held out her hand demandingly.

'Thank you,' said Leo indifferently, pocketing the parchment. When Fawcett still looked around, apparently wondering if Harry might suddenly appear from behind an alcove, he said callously, 'You may leave now, Fawcett.'

With a disappointed shrug, the Ravenclaw turned around and left the library.

'He's a strange one,' said Tracey with an amused glint in her eyes. 'Competition for you, Daphy!'

'Oh, please! Anyway, what's in there?'

'Well, let's see.' Tracey opened her letter and scanned through the contents. 'Oh, joy!' She threw up her arms in false jubilation. 'We're having detention tonight.'

'What, Harry and Amy, too?' asked Greengrass.

'Looks like it, doesn't it? This is such a drag! I hope it's something dull.'

~BLVoD~

Harry walked through the ancient castle, once again regretting his recent actions. That was, worryingly enough, becoming a bit of a thing as of late. Damn it all! I messed up again. The whole castle was bustling with excited chatter again: how Black had lost his composure, how Black had threatened a teacher, how Black had actually attacked a teacher...

Harry hadn't, of course, but he'd fired his wand, and he really should've known better than to hope the story would be spread exactly as it happened. The Portkey, the owl, and now this... The list of his outbursts was getting quite long already – in barely more than a few weeks, that is. Arguably, one might also include his decision to join Leo on his little adventure. He'd been sure that he could handle the inhabitants in there as long as Draco and Leo backed him up but looking back...

On the plus side of things, he certainly did enjoy the newfound benefits of Occlumency. He still was anything but comfortable with most women, but at least he found those he knew better more bearable without the random spikes of panic that had always coursed through him at seemingly arbitrary intervals. Still, he felt no pressing need to tell Daphne about that bit. She was still being indulgent with him, relatively speaking of course, and if Harry valued anything, then it was without a doubt his freedom.

Still, he vowed to keep a closer watch on his temper. He was a Black, and such behaviour was unbecoming and unworthy of his family. Well, for most, at least. Poor Walburga.

Coming to a halt in front of a very specific door, he knocked.

'Come in!' a feminine voice commanded.

Aenor sat behind her cherished desk, her head lazily supported by one hand, skimming through the pages of two books at once with a look of intense concentration. When she heard the door shut, she looked up, rubbing her eyes. 'There you are. Good, I can do with a little bit of a distraction right now.'

'Still busy with your little project?' Harry asked as he sat down, not in front of the desk, instead choosing a seat by the fire.

'You could say that. I'm in a bit of a bind, though.'

'Problem?' asked Harry, somewhat surprised.

'No, not in the usual sense. But time might be running short. Anyway, you've been busy, too, or so I hear.' She stood up, grinning, before she busied herself with her private and well-stocked bar.

'Have I? I don't seem to recall,' Harry answered neutrally.

Aenor approached with a glass and a bottle of gin. Seeing his expression, she said with a wink, 'I'd offer you one, too, but you still have Potions today, and I don't want Snape snooping around again.'

Harry shrugged. He didn't share Aenor's fascination with spirits.

'I was talking about your run-in with Prewett. The version that finally reached my ears was as embellished as a soldier's schmooze. Here's to you!' She downed the contents of her glass all with a look of great satisfaction, softly smacking her full lips.

Harry scowled. Fantastic, just as I thought. It's a small mercy that Dumbledore hasn't invited me again for one of his small talks at least. 'I detest the man, true, but I regret my outburst.'

'You didn't force him to the wall, threatening to curse his skin off, only to get interrupted by three Aurors who managed to peel you off him, but not before you cursed Prewett and dramatically threatened to end him, then?' she asked good-naturedly.

Harry's fingers clutched the wand in his sleeve tightly. 'No.'

'Pity! I prefer that version.'

'Granted, I did threaten him, I guess,' admitted Harry.

'You did?' Aenor looked at him, pleasantly surprised. 'Attaboy.'

'Say, do I really have to sit your lessons this year? Can't we make a deal again?'

'Oh? You don't want to see me anymore? I'm hurt, Harry!'

And she certainly did look it. If Harry hadn't known her so well, he would've fallen for it every time. She really was a piece of work. 'It's just a waste of time. I thought you might be sympathetic, seeing as you don't like squandering your off-time with, as you call them, snotty brats.'

'You know, if it was up to me, we'd be fine like that, but Dumbledore got a bit bothersome about it last year. I'll leave you mostly alone, and you can read up on whatever you feel like. Unless I need you for a demonstration or something. That okay?'

'I guess so. Anyway, what's up with you?' Harry asked with a smirk. 'Don't you think you went a bit overboard that one lesson? Not everyone in that class is an honest idiot; a few must have noticed that you were advocating the Unforgivables.'

Aenor threw back her head and laughed. 'So what? What's life without a bit of fun?!'

'Neither Dumbledore nor the Ministry is going to be impressed by that, I'd wager.'

'As if I care! They can't do anything to me as long as your grandfather and his associates back me up. I can just imagine Malfoy's smirk.' She put down her glass and sat up straight, looking at him with one eyebrow slightly raised, her lips a thin line of displeasure. 'It occurs, Minister,' she said in a good imitation of Lucius' bored drawl, 'that all your so-called allegations are based on conjecture and the babble of fools. Need I remind you that it is the Board of Governors that ultimately handles disciplinary issues with staff or students? We shall take actions – in the event they prove necessary.'

Aenor laughed that wild laugh of hers again, and Harry couldn't help joining this time.

'Can't wait for your NEWT class! When you're promoting illegal curses already in second year, I bet they'll be interesting.'

She looked at him, one finger playing with the rim of the glass. 'You'll have to find out for yourself, won't you?' She cockily raised an eyebrow at him, pouring herself another drink.

'Are you already done with lessons today?' Harry asked, slightly taken aback. The delicate woman before him had already worked through two extremely generously filled glasses in less than five minutes.

'Yeah, no more snotty brats for today.' She raised her hand to her cheeks, speaking in a falsely high voice. 'Oh, Miss Rose, I didn't understand that bit, could you please explain that again? Miss Rose! I'm sorry but I had an accident in Potions, and Professor Snape insisted I clean up. I'm sorry, Miss Rose, my cat ate my homework.' She rolled her eyes airily. 'If those nettlers ever make it into some serious jobs, the world will end, I tell you. And amidst the chaos and confusion, you'll hear someone sheepishly protesting, "I'm sorry, Miss Rose. I didn't know I wasn't to open the box with the skull on it!"'

Harry smiled, shifting in his seat to make himself comfortable. 'Well, I see your point. A few of them are a bit hopeless.'

'You said it!'

'Do you have Butterbeer?' Harry asked abruptly, giving in to the relaxed atmosphere.

'Of course, I do! That's the spirit, Harry!' Beaming, she flicked her wand, summoning both a glass and one of her foreign brands. With a wiggle of her wand, the crown cap came loose and the bottle neatly filled Harry's glass.

'Thanks!'

'Cheers!' Aenor took another hefty swig, closing her eyes and sighing happily.

'Oh, yeah, there's something I wanted to show you.'

Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the bottleneck, muttering for a few seconds. Then, with a grin, he threw the half-full bottle towards Aenor, who caught it easily, albeit with a yell. 'What in the blaz-'

She stopped mid-sentence. Not a single drop of liquid had been spilt. Furrowing her brow, she inspected the bottle closer.

Harry watched her intently. Aenor seemed to be hiding her emotions, as she seemed prone to do whenever she was thinking fast, staring at the opening of the bottle without any impulse, until her eyes flickered lightning-fast towards Harry. Her eyes, he couldn't help marvelling, were still as addicting to lose yourself in as ever. 'You did it wrong!' she said, though the tone of her voice was still very guarded.

'I know, but this is how far I've come.'

'You cheeky brat! It hasn't even been one week. Have you read those books I gave you?'

'Most of them. Interesting lecture. Especially the one about the passage of intangible matter like souls.' And that was true. Harry had devoured that book in one go. Even though the little manual was nearly as dark as some of the more esoteric tomes the Black family library proudly exhibited, he hadn't been that engrossed in a while. Not least of all because that sort of research was heavily restricted in Britain.

'I thought you wanted to understand and not fall in line with all the sycophants,' she said, narrowing her eyes a bit.

'I wasn't being sarcastic. I read the whole thing in three hours. Unbelievable that research is more than three centuries old,' he said earnestly.

'Oh!' For a second, Aenor looked almost relieved. But her expression of mild concern soon made way for one of her teasing grins. 'Well, you fail.'

Slightly slumped, Harry watched her wordlessly and offhandedly banishing her glass and the bottle of gin. She stared right back at him, her grin slowly turning into solemn attentiveness.

He just stared back, slightly uneasy.

'Come on, let's get started for real.' She looked at him, her lips turned upwards, her face ever so slightly flushed – eager, serious, and – in contrast to biological likelihood – sober. 'Oh, and Harry?'

'Hm?' he said, unable to tear himself away from her piercing eyes.

She was smiling again, but it wasn't her usual whimsical smile, but rather a truly serene, beautiful, and most shockingly of all, honest smile that encased her in an addicting radiance. 'That was a magnificent first try.'

~BLVoD~

'So you're all here, are you, you little blighters?' Filch spat with a nasty leer.

Harry stared expressionlessly at the man. Tracey and Fawley both scowled. Amy, on the other hand, looked torn between amusement and indignity. She wouldn't take it well being talked down to, especially by a Squib, Harry knew.

'Well, this here be your punishment, so listen up; I'll only be telling you once. You are to scrub all the benches and tables. If there are any stains you cannot remove with this,' he pointed towards a big bucket with some cleaning solution, 'you are to emery the patch till it comes off. You'll only be allowed to leave when you've got everything all shiny and new, so best get to it if you want to have even a few hours of sleep. Oh, and no magic!' Cackling menacingly, he left them standing there, his feline deputy stalking after him.

Amy's hand twitched, and she looked petitionary at Harry, who shook his head slightly.

'Oh, this is just great. Just great! Now I have to do servant's stuff with Black and his cronies of all people. Great!' Fawley grabbed the nearest empty bucket and filled it angrily with the cleaning solution.

'Could be worse,' said Tracey with a crooked smile. 'At least it's nothing dangerous or gross.'

'We aren't really going to do this, are we, Harry?' asked Amy disbelievingly. In a quiet voice, she added, 'I don't like agreeing with the idiot over there, but this is servant's work.'

'I have absolutely no intention of scrubbing benches, Amy.'

'Nice!' Without another comment, she walked towards the nearest bench, pulled it out a bit, and sat down, resting her feet on the table, her back leaning against the wall behind her. 'Wake me when the Squib comes screaming.'

'You can't do that! You'll get us all into trouble,' protested Fawley, though Harry noticed that the complaint seemed directed at him or, possibly, Tracey rather than the elder Lestrange.

'What are you up to?' asked Tracey.

'Absolutely nothing. Minnie! Cranky!'

Two pops not more than half a millisecond apart later, his favourite house-elves stood before him, bowing profusely. 'Cranky apologises for the delay, Master Harry. How can we serve?'

Minnie, too, looked extremely avid to be of service, showering him in a somewhat uncomfortable look of motherly concern.

'Oh, your house-elves? Nice one!' Amy showed him a thumbs-up, covering her eyes with her hood. 'Can you get the light, Harry?'

With a grin, Harry pointed his wand at the candles in the air. They immediately dimmed to a soothing, orange half-light.

'Awesome, thanks a bunch!' Amy shifted a bit back and forth until she was apparently satisfied, letting out a sigh and closing her eyes.

'Cranky, Minnie? Would you be so kind as to clean the benches and tables?'

'It will be done, Master Harry,' said Cranky evenly.

Minnie looked horrified at the state of the tables that were, in all fairness, more or less completely clean. 'Minnie is shocked that Master Harry has to sit and eat here. What is those bad elves doing all the time?'

Fawley, still carrying the bucket, came over, managing to look relieved and angry all the same. 'Er, thanks, I guess.'

'We won't be helping you, pea-brains!' called Amy, her eyes still closed. 'If you don't do your part, we'll have the elves leave a bit out and say you didn't do anything.'

'B-but...' He looked around for moral support, only to find Tracey smirking at him and Harry not paying attention at all. Hanging his head in defeat, he marched off towards the other end of the hall, dragging the bucket and cleaning rag behind him.

'Harry?' Tracey had, in the meantime, walked over, and was bouncing on her feet, looking up at him imploringly. 'Pretty please?'

Harry sighed. 'Minnie? Could you get Tracey a mug of hot chocolate, please?'

'Thanks!' Tracey cheered, her eyes all sparkly.

'At once, Master Harry!'

'No, no! Er, you may take your time,' he said with a smile, ignoring Tracey's displeased groan.

It was pretty boring work, thought Harry. Well, if you considered it work to watch your house-elves clean not only the benches and tables but the whole hall with the utmost prejudice. Except for that little bit Fawley had to work on, of course. You really had to hand it to her; when it came to parenthetical skulduggery, Amy was the indisputable number one. Even in her current probably sleeping state, she still managed to intimidate Fawley so much that he gave them a wide berth.

Tracey sat beside him, energetically swinging her legs that still didn't quite reach the floor, enjoying her second hot chocolate with the straw Minnie had gotten her. Harry was reading.

'It's not too bad. We should do this detention thing more often,' opined Tracey with an extreme slurping sound. 'Just hanging out, hot chocolate, no work, nothing icky like Potions, hot chocolate, watching other people work and hot chocolate; it's almost perfect!'

Amy grumbled something in her sleep, and Harry couldn't help himself and sniggered.

'What did she say? Is she awake?'

'I don't think so. She said, "lazy disgrace of a Squib".'

A loud bang from the direction of the front door interrupted their friendly picnic. Amy sat up like a toy that had been wound up. 'Trouble?'

'I think that was the Entrance Hall. Want to check it out?'

'Can we not, please?' asked Tracey, annoyed. 'My chocolate is getting cold, and it's not our problem!'

'Okay, then. You stay here and watch Fawley. We'll be back in a minute.' With a nod at his cousin, Harry drew his wand and dashed towards the entrance of the castle, Amy on his heels.

When they finally reached the last corner behind which the front portal lay, Harry held up his hand and cautiously peeked around the corner.

The gigantic ICW Auror, sporting a few scratches on his cheek, was dragging a handful of his hopefully unconscious and decidedly bloody colleagues behind him. One man, Harry noticed, seemed to be missing his entire right arm. Another seemed to have some kind of intrusions near his carotid artery. Their robes looked torn, their boots muddy. To his discomfort, he saw Prewett's motionless body among the injured men and women.

So this was the glorious foray Prewett had allegedly boasted about.

'Students!' Antonius yelled. 'You, Lestrange, go get your matron – immediately!'

When Amy, instead of following his orders, looked inquiringly at Harry, the man shouted, 'At once!'

With a shrug, Amy jogged leisurely towards the infirmary.

'I need to see the headmaster. You, Black, keep watch, and don't you touch that door, whatever you do!'

And off he was.

Harry shot a curious look towards the portal – it glowed with wiggling sigils and runes he'd never seen before. Guess this guy is the real deal.

One of the men on the floor moaned in pain, causing Harry to give them a second glance. He'd seen lots of injuries in his life; dozens of curses gone wrong, several disfigurements, and even a few corpses, but these men looked horrible even by the dark standards of his family. The corridor was thick with the stench of blood, death and fear.

Prewett was bleeding, he realised.

Slowly, Harry produced his wand, pointing it at the deep gash on the man's arm.

It was an easy spell, he knew. He'd done it several times – dozens!

But when Madam Pomfrey finally came running, she found his wand arm shaking, still pointed at Prewett's bleeding wound.

'Oh my...Harry! What are you doing?! Stop the bleeding like I know you can!'

'I can't,' he whispered, his voice raw.

'Of course, you can, dear!' Madam Pomfrey looked at him in concern as she started casting spells at the man who'd lost his arm. 'Come on, try again! I know you can do it.'

'I can't, Poppy. I can't!'

'What do you mean, you can't?'

Harry stared at the loathsome man at his feet, his wand arm still trembling, the voices of two terrified girls screaming for their father ringing in his ears. 'If I do it now, I'm not so sure the right spell will come out.'