THE CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS had already been set up in the Great Hall, bathing the school in a very festive cheer. This time around, it was accompanied with the upcoming anticipation of the Yule Ball. The topic buzzed cheerfully throughout the castle and students could already be overheard talking about their outfits and dates. Luxanna, however, could not join in on the excitement that morning—she had a more important mission to attend to.

She was on her feet as soon as Noctis had arrived. Not taking even a minute to finish up her breakfast, she bolted out of the Great Hall and out into the courtyard, Alex quick at her heel. They sat down on the one dry bench that was remaining (the rest were completely buried in snow thanks to that week's blizzard) and Luxanna ripped the parcel open eagerly.

"You subscribed to Witch Weekly?" asked Alex in surprise. "Thought you hated their nonsense."

Luxanna ignored him, she was busy flipping through the pages expectantly. Noctis had followed her outside, demanding a treat in the most aggressive way possible: nipping her hair. Alex broke off a piece of the biscuit he was carrying and offered it to the owl.

Don't miss the latest gossip!

Rita Skeeter brings exclusive news about Hogwarts' recent and most scandalous love affair.

Following up on our Slytherin's misadventures with the infamous Gryffindor jokesters, Fred and George Weasley, it appears that our beloved Luxanna Black has unfortunately been misled by her suitors after being tragically torn between the two brothers for years. An anonymous source claims that the teenaged Black has been spending her afternoons instead of with her beau—crying in the bathroom, sobbing that her heart has been torn to shreds by her beloved's overly aggressive demeanour behind the bedroom's door. The same source identifies the perpetrator as George Weasley—it seems that our Slytherin has chosen the more aggressive of the Gryffindor Beaters—What will Fred Weasley do? Or better yet, will the boys' parents have anything to say about this scandalous incident?

Stay subscribed to Witch Weekly to find out!

Over Luxanna's shoulder, Alex gasped at the text before them.

"That's not what I said!" groaned Luxanna.

"Lux, but... How? Who's the anonymous source? Selwyn, you reckon?"

It was rather odd for Selwyn to be introduced as an anonymous source. Surely, the girl was attention hungry enough to not forget to mention her name in the address?

"Well... It will have to suffice..." said Luxanna, visualising the image of the Weasleys' enraged mother; her face contorted with shame and disgust. It lightened her mood ever so slightly. Maybe she would send another Howler? The first one was a joy to witness. Or maybe ten? She could only be so optimistic...

"You've signed up for Hogsmeade, right?" asked Alex for the fifth time that week. Luxanna had missed out on all of the Hogsmeade visits so far; her ventures were solemnly confined to the castle.

"Yes, yes," she said impatiently. "Get off, Noctis." The owl had perched on her shoulder for a treat and now proceeded to nibble on the back of her head.

Alex offered up another piece of biscuit but was curtly refused.

"Oh, if only!" moaned Luxanna. "Noctis is far too spoiled for that." Noctis only accepted the finest owl treats available—that, or her mother's cooking.

"Well, let's get going then," she said.

They joined in the pile of Ravenclaw girls already on their way to the village. Cho Chang and her girlfriends would not stop prattling on about Potter and Cedric Diggory the entire length of the walk—Luxanna didn't know it was possible to speak so quickly, and to giggle so much.

"Bet you'll get loads of invitations," offered Alex as they trudged through the deep snow.

"I bet I'll get exactly zero," said Luxanna, knowing fully well that the entire school regarded her with thinly-veiled contempt. Even the Slytherin crowd. Especially the Slytherin crowd, now that she was supposedly going out with a blood-traitor.

"Deal."

"Huh?"

"Deal. We have a bet, then."

"No, come on, Alex, you know that you won't win this one," she said as she craned over the heads of students in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Weasleys. The magazine was clutched tightly in her hands and ready to be launched into George Weasley's face if the opportunity arose.

"Nah... Boys love that whole 'I'll murder you if you speak to me' thing that you've got going on."

"That's your preference, maybe," Luxanna teased, but in truth, she had no idea what boys liked, just that it wasn't her. "Alright then, Alex. What'll you have as a prize?"

"I'll think on it..." he said with a mischievous smirk.

Soon enough, they reached the village and the girls in front of them dispersed towards the shops. It seemed that everybody was doing their Yule Ball shopping in Hogsmeade, it also seemed that the shopkeepers were very aware of this: the displays were brandishing fancy new robes and dresses, glittering necklaces and earrings and luxurious hair accessories. Luxanna didn't pay much mind as her mother had already arranged her attire (the so-called finishing touches were taking months, though) but a particular item did catch her eye.

It was a set of serpentine earrings, clearly advertised to young Slytherin girls. They reminded her of Frost, who incidentally was peering out of her collar, eyeing the same pair.

But before they could enter the shop, somebody suddenly called out Alex's name. They both turned and saw a rather cheerful-looking blonde boy running up to them.

Judging by the bright pink blush that was creeping up Alex's face, Luxanna thought she knew exactly who this might be.

"Ah! Antonio! You made it! Oh, this is my friend, Luxanna Black." Antonio shook her hand eagerly. "Lux, this is Antonio Piselli, my... friend."

"Friend? And here I thought you —"

"— thought you were a best friend," Alex intervened, speaking very quickly, "how very silly of her, we barely know each other, hah! So how about that tea?"

Merlin, Alex, thought Luxanna in amazement. She wasn't actually thinking of saying it, she only wanted to stir a reaction.

Alex brought them to a fancy tea shop (Luxanna had sent a silent prayer that he wouldn't pick Madam Puddifoot's) where they sat down on some squishy chairs by the window. The place was decently decorated, and the air was rich with different delicious aromas of the plentiful delicacies displayed on the counter. As they waited for the drinks to be brought over, Luxanna had the opportunity to study Antonio, who was looking more than a little apprehensive under her supposed 'I'll murder you if you speak to me' gaze.

"So Antonio, Alex tells me that you are Italian. Where from, exactly?"

"Ah, from a small village in Sardegna." He had a heavy accent, but his English was otherwise quite good.

"A Southerner!" Luxanna choked on the tea she was so elegantly sipping.

"I'll take it from your reaction that you're from the north?"

Luxanna regained herself quickly before answering, "A village on the edge of the Lombardy region."

"You must be from the Volpi family."

"He knows your family?" said Alex in surprise.

"Everybody knows the Volpis," said Antonio in amusement, inflating Luxanna's ego some.

"It's the hair," he added with a sip of his tea.

"Yes, so I've heard. Our complexion is quite rare in Italy. Like speaking Parseltongue here..." Luxanna spoke Italian mid-sentence so as to not tip off the eagerly eavesdropping students at the table next door. Antonio was from the south so there was a high chance that he was a Parselmouth. The boy had piqued her interest; she was already eager to ask him all the questions that were popping into her head, but just as she was about to speak, a deep voice interrupted them with a deliberate cough.

The boy spoke in what Luxanna deemed was a Germanic accent, judging from the Durmstrang attire. "Yes, hello," he said coolly, as if his presence was a welcome intrusion. "May I?"

Luxanna raised her eyebrows in response to his presumptuousness. She took another sip of tea before responding, "You may not."

"My friend over there wants you to go to the ball with him." He pointed a thumb at the window behind him where a pale boy was glued to the window, staring hungrily at Luxanna. She gulped down what might have been vomit. "But," he continued as if Luxanna wasn't sitting right in front of him, "if you do not like him, you can go with me."

Alex and Antonio were clearly amused by this situation as they did not say anything but instead watched as the events unfolded in silence with giant smirks plastered on their faces.

Luxanna stared at him with a pitying look, even as she politely said, "Thank you, for the, uhm... great offer. But I have to decline."

The boy excused himself, clearly unbothered her refusal, and briskly left the shop, joining his friend outside and clapping him on the back as a way of commiseration.

"What?" she asked, shrugging. Alex was smirking at her devilishly. "Ah, yes. The silly bet. Well you better figure out what you want while we're still here."

"That was... very impolite," commented Antonio. "The Durmstrang don't know manners."

"Apparently not. So..." said Luxanna, now turning her attention back to their previous topic, speaking in Italian once again. "Do you speak it, then? No one knows I speak it. It's not common here. As a matter of fact, there is only one family line here that can—and they do not have the best reputation."

"Yes, I do speak it..." Luxanna noticed that Antonio was a little taken aback by her sudden change of language in the company of Alex, who had now been entirely left out of the conversation. "My grandfather did teach me, but I've since abandoned it. After leaving Italy for France, that is. But how is it that you can, being a northerner?"

"I learned it as well... from books. Why did you move to France? Why not attend Janara, the southern school?"

"Well, my father is foolishly in love with my mother. After I was born, she went back to France for work. When she couldn't stay in Italy any longer, my father and I joined her. He couldn't live a second without her."

"We have that in common. Except for me, it's my mother."

The rest of the day at Hogsmeade went by smoothly. That is, if one didn't count the glances of numerous boys—mostly foreign—Luxanna kept having to ward off. After a little while, Antonio decided to leave them and join his Beauxbatons friends to taste the oh so famous Butterbeer, and Luxanna and Alex decided to call it a day and return to Hogwarts.

On their way out of Hogsmeade, Luxanna noticed that Alex wasn't beside her. When she turned around she found him glued to a shop window.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm admiring this masterpiece! I didn't know they sell figurines in here. And they MOVE! I would've converted more Pounds!"

Luxanna, uninterested and unimpressed, resumed her way to the exit. But Alex stopped her. "Oh no, you're not going anywhere, Lux."

"Ah," she said in a sigh. The bet.

"Well this is what I want, buy me these figurines. I want to play with them."

"What are you, Alex—five?"

"D&D is for everyone, even old people play it. Best game you'll ever play, you should try it."

Luxanna kept looking at him, unsure what he was talking about. She'd lie if she said she wanted to know. Even if there was curiosity, it would be instantly diminished by Alex's incessant rambling if she were to ever ask. So she accepted to buy him what he wanted and spare herself the torture.

Luxanna entered the shop followed by Alex. Figurines of famous and great wizards of all sizes covered every corner of the shop and Luxanna immediately spotted the four Hogwarts Founders. Merlin, Ignatia and even Dumbledore were there, looking back at her as though they were alive.

She moved deeper into the shop in order to admire more witches and wizards, leaving Alex by the counter, jumping with excitement as the shopkeeper produced different variations of Merlin. She hadn't expected that they would be so delicately crafted, with this much detail.

As her foot connected with a very dusty box, Luxanna coughed, then squatted down to have a closer look.

Though it appeared to be very old, the wooden box still held its former elegance; intricate carvings were visible under the thick layers of dust. Luxanna took a handkerchief and wiped the surface — one wipe sent the dust flying to her face and made her sneeze and cringe at the amount of dirt on her face.

A quick Revelio made sure that there were no jinxes or hexes inbound before she opened it. Inside lay a beautiful porcelain doll of a woman with raven-black waves that fell to her hips and similar eyes staring back at her; just as blue and pale as Luxanna's. It was very well sculpted; it looked extremely real, there was even a small scar visible on the lips. Luxanna was so enchanted by the doll she didn't hear footsteps approaching her, and only when a hand squeezed her shoulder did she come back to reality.

"What are you doing here, missy? No one's allowed in the storage."

Ignoring the shopkeeper's question, Luxanna asked, "Who is this?"

"It's not for sale," said the lady.

"Please, who is this?"

"Honestly, girl, you don't want it, trust me. It's cursed."

"Cursed how?" inquired Luxanna in protest.

"My father used to own this shop. Lived on commissions. That doll there was his very last work. He spent weeks working on it, polishing it down to the finest detail. He'd gone to deliver it—always did the deliveries himself, that man—and, well... it was wartime. Somebody struck him down. Killed him on the spot. They never found out why, nor who did it. See? You don't want it, Merlin knows the kind of bad luck it might bring."

"Who commissioned it?"

"Sorry?"

"You said your father did commissions. Who commissioned this doll?"

"I don't know, exactly. They never found my father's ledger. Must've been well off, though, to afford something like this. He mentioned a name at some point... Sig...Signeus or something?"

"Cygnus? Was it Cygnus?" asked Luxanna, her eyes wide.

The shopkeeper shrugged. "Could've been."

"I would like to buy this."

"What?" Frost hissed under her ear.

The shopkeeper snorted in response, shaking her head. "On your own head be it."

"Lux, It's much too expensive! Think about yourself, and all the things you might need for the ball."

Luxanna ignored Frost and followed the shopkeeper to the counter. She noticed Alex holding about a dozen figurines. She was about to retort, but one look at his happy face and she gave up and paid for the whole thing. Well, there goes her month's allowance.

Romantic auras filled every single corner of Hogwarts. The already matched couples were to be found cuddling on every bench or snogging inside a broom closet, while the still single ones were sending hungry looks to their prey in hopes of catching an invite. Cupid sure was having a good time this week, matching everyone for the Yule Ball. All of this had Luxanna slithering into her pit after every class to avoid attention, because every time she tried to have a bite of breakfast or lunch, some silly boy would be standing five feet away from her, nervously shifting on his feet and clearing his throat in a woeful attempt of getting her attention. Were they trying to make her lose her appetite?

Not in a million years did she expect Alex to be right. That boys did, in fact, fancy her that way. It was mental. They were mental. And Luxanna was this close to bursting.

But the tragedy of that day had struck just after lunch, when Luxanna found herself standing in Professor McGonagall's office, the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses in front of her, looking significantly less than happy. There was also a dimwit ginger right next to her, who she assumed had to be George Weasley, judging by the magazine that was sitting on Professor McGonagall's desk—the subject of their discussion. Just behind the desk was McGonagall herself, peering over the article in question, and—to everybody's utter demise—reciting it out loud. Her lip twitched with anger as she scolded her student; her gaze occasionally flickering from Luxanna back to him.

Meanwhile, standing next to McGonagall, Professor Snape was completely silent, but his facial expression said it all: His jaw was visibly clenched, the vein on his forehead was threatening to burst and the depth of the scowl he was wearing just then revealed wrinkles that were entirely new to her.

"These are serious allegations, Mr Weasley, you cannot expect the school to just ignore this!"

"Professor, I had nothing to do with it," Weasley pleaded furiously. He looked pale; dishevelled, and he kept on nervously fiddling with his uniform as he spoke, "I don't, I swear! It's that wretched journalist, she always makes things up—ask anyone! I"—he glanced at Luxanna, as if contemplating if what he was about to say might provoke her"—Of course I didn't do anything to Black, we're not even... together."

"Didn't do anything? Didn't do anything?" snapped Luxanna, her voice dripping with malice. For a second, she considered telling them everything. Starting from the moment he and his wretched brother burnt her hair off, to that twisted joke they pulled on her in the Gryffindor Common Room (When Snape found out what exactly they had stolen, he would take delight in punishing them. Merlin knows they probably drenched Galleons worth of supplies from his storage).

If only it were that straightforward. If only her biggest problem entailed finding the next target to pull a joke on, and not harbouring a potentially destructive secret that could spell her demise if exposed. Ah, to live as carefreely as a Weasley. If only her punishments were confined to that of a week's worth of detention. If only, if only. The teachers were no doubt prepared to go blind at George Weasley's transgressions, whereas her own would be waiting for her inside a courtroom, nestled sweetly on a chair strapped with metal clasps.

"Minerva, if you will," Snape spoke for the first time, "let us hear from Miss Black now."

"It was a Boggart, Professor."

"A Boggart? In the dungeons?" said Snape.

"Yes," said Luxanna once she regained her composure. It wasn't something she enjoyed thinking about. It came as a blessing that she couldn't quite recall all the details of the incident. So Luxanna put on the most polite voice possible and tried to stir this into Weasley's direction in hopes of getting him and his brother reprimanded. "They planned it," she lied. "They lured me there... him and his brother, they wanted to give me a fright and they knew—"

"Knew?! How were we supposed to know you'd be tossed out of Snape's class? Huh?" ranted Weasley, throwing his hands up furiously, "How did we plan it? Professor— Please, we were just having a laugh, she's just making things up, she wasn't supposed to be there!"

"Enough!" McGonagall's voice cut through the noise like a knife.

"Yet," muttered Luxanna under her breath.

"What on earth were you thinking? A boggart? All on your own?"

"You were supposed to inform a teacher..."

...Weren't supposed to be there... yet.

The words came to her as suddenly as the anger, making her fists clench and her head pound with all the noise. That was it. That's what he had said to her, 'You weren't supposed to be here yet.' They did plan it. And to think she was actually, even for a solid, irrelevant second, worried about the git.

"On a different note, Miss Black," said McGonagall, "Madam Pomfrey has told me that you sustained no injuries—which I can only be extremely relieved for—but you were supposed to stay in the Hospital Wing until you were officially cleared." She sighed deeply, for the look on Luxanna's face was pure loathing. "I simply don't know what to make of this, Severus."

"I expect 50 points from each House will suffice?" said Snape to McGonagall, who nodded in response.

"And I will have to write to your parents, of course," added McGonagall.

"NO!"

Her right hand was hanging awkwardly far from her body, careful not to smear any Weasley residue on her clothes from the handshake that McGonagall had forced them to do as a so-called truce. She was alone with Snape now, and she was biding her time until she could run to the Owlery and write to her mother, explaining the situation. The good news was that while Cepheus and Carina would quickly shrug the entire incident off, the same could not be said for the Weasleys' mother. That was about the only thing Luxanna could look forward to now.

"This all happened during my class, am I correct?" asked Snape as they left Professor McGonagall's office.

"Yes," said Luxanna in a small voice.

"Did you get the idea that 'Stay outside of the classroom' somehow gave you free reign to roam the school during a lesson as you please?"

She wanted to say, 'Yes,' seeing as Snape never explicitly described the parameters, but thought better than to play dim.

"No, Professor."

"Now, as far as your draught is concerned, do keep in mind you have received bottom marks. A disaster for which you have deprived this house of an additional 10 points." He sighed heavily, and then said, "I expected better of you."

With only a few days left until the Yule Ball, the castle was on edge for those who hadn't found a date for themselves yet. But that wasn't what had Luxanna constantly on edge—it was the nightmares. The endless whispers of the unknown, the infinite dark abyss of loneliness and fear. The same haunting feeling that followed her everywhere she went. Every breath was accompanied by the sinking feeling of dread.

"Don't forget about the essay for Monday!" growled Professor Moody as students eagerly packed their bags. Patience ran low these days, and there was nothing that teachers could do to get the attention of overly excited students who collectively had only one thing on their minds. At some point, a silent agreement was reached among the majority of the girls to divorce all intelligent thoughts to make more room for Yule Ball discussions.

Luxanna found herself picking on her lips, again. She was sitting in her chair, not paying any attention to Moody whatsoever, and trying not to pay attention to the noise those horrible girls were making. Her leg was constantly shaking and her forehead was drenched in sweat. She didn't notice him limping his way toward her, until he spoke.

"Something troubling you, Black?" His magical eye twitched, aimed at a spot behind her neck where Frost was usually hidden. Luxanna's hand made for her neck, but she stopped it mid-way.

"No, sir."

"Alright, you let me know," said Moody with a nod.

He looked at her one last time before retreating back to his desk to gather his things. But as he reached for his briefcase, the sleeve of his robe caught on the edge of the chair, exposing his forearm where—Luxanna's chest thumped wildly—she could have sworn she saw something that looked very much like a... like the mark her own father carried.

"Lux... The ball is next week..." Alex's voice startled her and she wrenched her gaze away from Moody, as though she'd been looking at something sinful.

Luxanna gaped at Alex, trying to gather her thoughts. She must have imagined it, right?

"What?" she said; she hadn't heard him at all.

"I said the ball is next week—"

"I know, Alex, thank you for the reminder," she said briskly, jumping to her feet. Then, with a brief glance from Moody to Alex, she added, "Can you... can you wait here a moment? Just..."

"But..." he began, but Luxanna wasn't paying attention anymore.

Her legs carried her automatically after Moody as he climbed the steps to his office. She steadied her hand on the handle and pushed open the door without knocking.

Professor Moody had his back turned towards her, and was rummaging through the briefcase that sat on his desk; he did not hear her. Luxanna watched, with her hand still on the handle, as he pulled out some peculiar objects out of his case: a long, ornate wand, a robe of some kind, and—she froze in place when she saw it—a mask.

It was similar to one she had seen inside Cepheus's office when she was small, except there was something oddly familiar about this one, something... personal?

"Where did you get that?" Luxanna asked, startling the man.

The mask slipped out of Moody's fingers in surprise, clunking to the floor between them; Luxanna reached out for it with a shaky hand. The holes, like that of a skull, which covered the eyes had a thin, black fabric stretched over them, and the mouth was covered with metal grates that she knew served to obstruct the voice of the wearer. The rest of the face was decorated with strange engravings.

"That's, err, a sort of trophy of mine. Creepy looking thing, isn't it?" Moody said, a slight strain to his voice. He stood with one hand on his hip, the other on his cane, looking somehow even more grizzled than usual. "You Know Who supporters used to wear those... This one I seized myself so I..."

"Seized from whom?"

"Err... a fellow named Martin Mulciber."

Luxanna stood frozen, gazing at the mask of the man who had threatened her earlier that year, who had run his fingers over her so freely as though she were his property, his belonging... and she knew that Professor Moody had not been honest with her, not now and probably not ever.

"Martin Mulciber was never arrested," she stated simply, her voice stripped of emotion. "My father told me so."

"And you believe your father all of a sudden?"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, still as stone; the silence that stretched between them somehow said more than any of the conversations they'd shared. Luxanna was about to open her mouth and to ask him, no, accuse him of the symbol he hid underneath his left sleeve, when Alex stumbled into the room, interrupting her.

"Lux, come on, let's go," he said, leaning on the doorframe and looking between the two of them, confused.

Luxanna cleared her throat. "Professor Moody was just showing me some of his trophies," she said, showing him the mask.

"Creepy," Alex commented. "Come on, then."

As they left the office, something instinctual inside Luxanna told her that she had been inches away from danger, and had Alex not shown up, that distance might have been closed in seconds.

"Are you alright?" asked Alex once they were out of earshot; evidently, her face displayed at least a hint of the whirlwind going on inside her mind.

"Yes," Luxanna replied, grasping for excuses. "Just a little worried about, uh, you know, the ball."

"You don't have a date yet, Lux, everyone's bound to be taken by now..."

"Nor do I have a robe..." said Luxanna, the conversation flowing automatically, like she wasn't even in control of it. "No idea what my mother's still doing with it."

Of course she wasn't worried about the stupid ball. If it were up to her, she would have gladly gone dateless, but the problem was her mother. If Carina were to get news of her solitary appearance, Luxanna would not hear the end of it. And no more garden outings—something she simply couldn't give up. Going out to the garden at the manor was the closest thing she had that resembled her home in Italy.

"Well, I wouldn't mind leaving Antonio to be your date instead. You're far more import..."

"Shush!"

On her way down the corridor, before the aftermath of her interaction with Moody could sink in, Luxanna spied Potter out of the corner of her eye; he was hurriedly running up at the Ravenclaws and looking rather tense but determined all the same. Curiosity was a constant hazard to her, even after all this time. She couldn't resist; Potter was wearing that now very recognisable look, the one she had been repeatedly acquainted with every time a boy had the bright idea of asking her to be his date.

She blocked Alex in with her arm and immediately retreated back inside a classroom before Potter too spotted her and another row ensued.

"...could I have a word with you?" he was saying to Cho Chang. Luxanna peeked out from the door and watched as they turned a corner farther down the hallway. She quickly followed suit, her earlier train of thought set aside for the time being.

Alex was looking at her with amused interest as he followed along. "Poor guy," he whispered. "Chang's been taken by Diggory."

"Yes, she only reminded us of that little fact seven times today," said Luxanna with a roll of her eyes.

"At least you won't be the only one to go without a date..." said Alex sympathetically, as though it were any comfort to her.

"Last I heard, you haven't even asked Antonio yet," she mocked, and Alex blushed in response.

"But I told you, he—"

"Shh, listen!" whispered Luxanna urgently.

"D'you—d'you want to go to the ball with me?" Potter mumbled like an idiot.

"Oh! Oh, Harry, I'm really sorry—"

Quickly, Luxanna rounded on the pair of them, cleared her throat and said what nobody would have ever expected her to say.

"Harry is going with me."