Dozens of parchments littered the desk space in front of Aria filled with notes, drawings, equations, and runic algorithms. The parchment of most prominence was a long scroll full of runes in various patterns with notes in the margins written between two different hands in two different ink colors. Aria tapped her pencil against the Muggle notebook she kept a lot of scrap notes on, glaring between the runic parchment in front of her and the notebook where she had begun runic algorithms only to erase or scribble them out.

Professor Snape entered, carrying his own notebooks and scrolls. He looked even peakier than normal. Potions had been cancelled for two whole days, and there was a lot of speculation amongst the students about Professor Snape and his connection to Barty Crouch Jr. The others professors were tight-lipped about it, but several students had seen Professor Moody and Snape walk down to Hogsmeade together the other morning, clearly showing the dire situation as every student knew that Professor Snape and Professor Moody hated each other and pretended the other didn't exist if they were able.

"What are you working on?" Snape asked.

"Just some runic algorithms," Aria said, sighing. She tossed her pencil and notebook onto the table. "My head hurts from it all. It's very advanced rune work and I've only had a year and a half so far."

Snape looked over her work.

"This is . . ." he shook his head. "I'd say you've been teaching yourself."

"I've had to! How else am I supposed to figure this out? I'm certain the success of the potion will include a runic sequence tied to the full moon but . . ." she waved her hand at the work in frustration.

"Take a break from that," Snape told her. "I'll order tea and you can look over the letters we received. I checked them. They're all clean."

Aria moved closer to the hearth in the room where a low coffee table had been placed along with squashy armchairs. She curled up with tea and little chocolate biscuits to open the letters. A few were intrigued with her findings, most were skeptical that curses such as lycanthropy could be found in the blood, and there was one that was downright rude!

"This one's just about how I'm a stupid little Muggleborn girl who doesn't understand how dangerous werewolves are and that curing a werewolf won't make the person any safer," she said. Snape sneered, snatching the offending letter from her.

"They don't even have the decency to sign their name," he muttered, tossing that particular letter into the fire. "Typical of such people."

Aria wriggled further into the comfort of the armchair.

"I think once I figure out a runic sequence, I'd like to try and etch it into a cauldron," Aria told Snape. "One of the books said that runes could be carved or written onto cauldrons."

"Usually they're not carved anymore," Snape answered. "They're usually drawn on with a wand. Runes carved into the cauldron are stronger, but more complex because a potion does interact with the cauldron it's in. The right runic sequence but wrong metal could make a useless potion."

"So the metal of the cauldron counts if I carve the runes?"

"Yes. Is there a particular metal you're thinking of?"

"Silver?"

Snape strolled over to his bookshelf and pulled out a book, leafing through it.

"Silver cauldrons are tricky," he said. "There's a reason why pewter or copper are the most commonly used, followed by bronze." He handed Aria the book opened to a page about silver cauldrons. "Silver is particular sensitive to a variety of potions ingredients so we would have to make sure that the ingredients we're working with can be handled by silver. I also assume you mean a solid silver cauldron and not a silver plated one."

"Yeah," Aria murmured, quickly reading over the page. "But maybe it wouldn't matter? Werewolves are allergic to silver."

"You would have to compensate for the fact that the silver-plated cauldron is made of two metals," Snape told her. "So, for ease a solid silver one would be better. More expensive, but better. I've got some grant funding information that you can fill out."

"The wizarding world does grant funding?" Aria questioned with surprised laugh.

"Of course it does. It's very selective though. The competition is fierce. Thankfully, I've made enough of a name for myself that if, an apprentice, state that I am your Master then your proposal will at least get considered."

"Unless the committee is anti-werewolf," Aria pointed out.

"Which is why I have several applications from Scandinavia," Snape replied. "And who know? Sometimes when people become aware of new potions being invented, they'll reach out with monetary support. Maybe the next few letters will include that."

"If only!" Aria cried.

They lapsed into silence as Aria continued reading about the different metals that she could use for a cauldron. Snape began sorting through his own letters and writing correspondence.

"Professor?" Aria finally said, stomach turning nervously. "Are . . . well . . . are you all right?"

Snape shot her a sharp look that almost had her regretting asking the question.

"And what on earth do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Well . . . you cancelled potions class and you were seen walking with Professor Moody. After the announcement in the paper . . ."

"Ah. You're all curious as to my reaction about Barty Crouch Jr.? No other gossip juicy enough for Hogwarts students at this time?"

"Not really," Aria admitted with a sheepish grin. "But in all seriousness, Professor. I'm wanting to know if you're all right."

Snape hummed suspiciously, turning back to his letters.

"Your worry is noted," he said. "But do not fear. I will be back to my normal grumpy professor-self tomorrow. Just to ensure everyone knows I'm all right."

Aria rolled her eyes.

More silence.

"I overheard you . . . that night . . ." she said. "At the Yule Ball I mean. With Karkaroff."

"So, you had come out to meet Draco," Snape muttered, putting his quill down with a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, though I didn't know that that was what Daphne or Theo had planned. Theo . . . Theo said that the Dark Mark darkening meant that Lord Volde—" she paused seeing Snape flinch and changed her words. "—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was growing stronger. But I thought he was dead."

"There are terrible ways to cheat death," Snape murmured, rubbing his arm while staring into the fire. "It does not surprise me that the Dark Lord would attempt such things. Though how he's done it . . . I cannot be sure."

"Theo said that Slytherin might not be safe for Harry or I if he did come back."

Snape looked up.

"You and Potter will always have a place in Slytherin," Snape told her. His voice was intense, sharp, but not angry. "But Mr. Nott is correct. It would be more dangerous." He reached across the small space and placed a hesitant hand over hers.

"As long as I am Head of Slytherin, you will not come to harm," he said. "I will protect you."

She moved before Snape could stop her, wrapping her arms around the man whom she had come to care for very much, even if she would never admit it to his face for fear of being made to scrub first year cauldrons.

"What are you doing?" Snape demanded.

"It's called a hug, Professor. You know what that is don't you?"

"Of course I know what a hug is!"

Aria giggled, pulling back with a grin that made Snape scowl at her.

"Get back to work," he snapped, though she knew him well enough to know there was no bite in his words. "You're a very silly girl."

"Silly girl who's going to find a cure for lycanthropy," she retorted, trotting back over to her word table, grabbing her cup of tea on the way. Snape harumphed, returning to his correspondence.

Aria began flipping through one of the runes texts, seeing what it had to say about how metals affected sequencing when Snape broke the silence.

"You and Draco need to be careful."

"Pardon?"

"I would hate to see the two of the only children I can stand come to sticky ends because they didn't use the cunning they possess." Snape looked over at her. "Abraxas is not a man to be trifled with."

"I know."

"Nor be surprised if, down the road, you discover that you and Draco are not meant to be together. While a large amount of my generation found their spouses at Hogwarts, it's a school not a matchmaking service. You could be the next queen of Bulgaria."

Now it was Aria's turn to give Snape a sharp look. Snape chuckled, returning to his writing. Aria flipped the books pages aggressively. Of all the ridiculous things to say to her! Who did he think he was?

Queen of Bulgaria indeed!

"Harry, Aria, can I talk with you?"

Theo stood at the foot of Harry's bed. Aria peered up from where she was lying on Harry's bed, Harry draped over her legs doing Arithmancy homework. Their friend looked pale, a bit shaken, and shifted from foot to foot. Most unusual for a normally composed boy.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I . . . I received a letter from my father," Theo said. Aria noted the parchment in his hands, crinkled and crumpled. Even now Theo worried the edges of the parchment.

"I think something's going to happen at the Third Task," Theo said in a rush. "Father's alluded to it. Something . . . he says Lord Malfoy's been planning something. Keeping it close to his chest and all that . . . but that he's alluded to my father that . . . that . . ." he shuddered.

Kill the spare.

Imaginary cold creeped back into Aria's bones. Cedric's lifeless eyes flashed across her mind.

"Why're you telling us?" Harry asked. That was a good question. Aria was under no delusion that her Slytherin friends, perhaps even other year mates in other houses, were caught in delicate situations by befriending her and Harry. From what little she had gleaned about the Notts, she knew they were a notoriously Dark family, that the current Lord Nott had been a second son and had joined the Death Eaters before his elder brother died in a fight against aurors and inherited. He had, according to Tracey, claimed Imperious, claiming that his elder brother had been the one to curse him. It had allowed him to escape Azkaban and become Lord Nott. Aria also knew that Lord Nott was related to Molly Weasley . . . Ron said it was a cousin or something. They had not spoken for years until Ron and Theo wanted to meet for chess.

"Father . . . Father wants me to follow in his footsteps," Theo stated. "But he also taught me that whatever choices I make, I need to stand by my choices. 'Theo', he'd tell me, 'if you're going to make your bed, you've got to be willing to lie in in'."

Bit hypocritical for a man who chose to follow Lord Voldemort and then claimed the Imperious, Aria thought.

"Father knows the bed I'm making," Theo finished.

"Then why tell you about something that you'd potentially disagree with?" Aria asked. "Or sabotage?"

Theo gave them both a wane smile.

"Because," he said, "for all his faults, he has only one weakness. And it's me." He crumpled the parchment in his hands, tossing it into a wastebasket before setting it on fire. Aria watched the fire burn for a minute before Theo extinguished it. She slid onto her knees, knocking Harry off her legs, and drew Theo into a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I'm not doing it because I care about you," Theo said. Harry rolled his eyes and Aria pulled back with a giggle.

"Of course not," she replied, "I'd never think that."

"It's just . . . there's only ever been two sides. The Dark Lord's or Dumbledore's."

"Still kinda is," Harry pointed out. Theo sighed grumpily, like Aria and Harry were particularly disappointing, patted both of them on their heads, and left the dormitory.

"Weird," Harry muttered. "It's almost like he was implying there was a third side or something to whatever mess Voldemort left behind."

"Maybe he's talking about Sirius?" Aria suggested.

"Maybe. What should we do 'bout the information though?"

Aria thought about it. They needed to be smart with this the information. Not let anything go to waste and only tell the people that could get the most done. There wasn't much information, so who would be able to be the most helpful?

"I think . . ." she finally said. "A letter to Percy wouldn't go amiss. I mean, he's practically in charge with the tournament now. And . . ." she accepted the parchment Harry passed her. "I think I want to write to Teddy. There's something in one of my vaults I want him to send me."

"You didn't take long to make the office your own."

Percy watched as Tracey wandered around his (temporary) office. Crouch had liked the open concept design for the department so that he could see out at who was approaching the department as well as being able to keep an eye on Percy. Percy had found it unnerving. The Department of International Cooperation was not small like his father's Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. It made sense that the three people in that office had a more open concept floor plan, but for International Cooperation? Percy had immediately asked one of the older office workers if the department had ever had walls (it had) and after a quick word with Maintenance, the spells that had taken away the walls had been reversed. Now he had a private office as did several other department employees. One of them, Edith Poldark, had already sent him flowers for it.

"It's very nice," Prudence agreed, lounging on the leather sofa Percy had brought in. Apparently, there was a whole area of the ministry with office furniture and as a department head, no matter how temporary, he had access to it. With the furniture and generic artwork he had chosen, his office had become homey and welcoming while still retaining a dignified, professional air. He had set up several photo frames on the corner of his desk, one of the Weasley family from their trip to Egypt, the other of him and Oliver taken the summer right after they had graduated Hogwarts, and another of their entire friend group, again taken the summer after graduation down in Cornwall at the beach house Oliver's family owned.

"Why are you here?" Percy asked.

"I thought you'd be happy to see us," Prudence cried.

"I'm always happy to see you," Percy replied, a bit drily making the girls laugh. "But it's business hours. Where should you two be?"

"Oh, don't be a stick in the mud," Tracey said. "I've got the day off and wanted to support Pru."

"Support?" Percy looked at Prudence in confusion.

"And I've got an appointment in thirty minutes," Prudence replied.

"An appointment?"

"Yes. Mother set up an appointment with Lord Weasley to discuss marriage between me and one his grandsons."

Percy vaguely remembered a similar conversation from two years ago.

"Father's unhappy about it," Prudence said, "but it would be rude at this point to cancel. So, I'm going if only to declare to Lord Weasley's face that I have no intention of entering into an arranged marriage and that I have my father's blessing on that."

"Lord Weasley won't be pleased if your mother made the appointment under the pretense that your father was aware and approved," Percy agreed. "He and Lady Weasley are very much traditionalists."

"We know," Tracey said. "You don't really call them anything except by their titles. We all know what that means."

"Father's still only corresponding with Grandmother," Percy retorted with an indignant sniff. "Lord Weasley is the biggest hold out. And my mother. Prewetts and Weasleys have never really seen eye-to-eye until my parents fell in love."

"And I thought I had family drama," Prudence laughed.

"More like family trauma," Tracey muttered. "Your mother will stop at nothing to have you married."

"So old school," Prudence complained.

A familiar owl appeared in the office's owl window, dropping a letter in front of Percy before perching on the back of his chair, nuzzling at his curls.

"Stop it, Hedwig, my hair's fine," Percy complained. "Are you going to wait for a reply?"

Hedwig hooted softly.

"Does it need to be immediate?"

Hedwig flew over to another chair and immediately closed her eyes, clearly preparing for a nap.

"Guess not," Tracey giggled.

Percy used a letter opener to break the seal on the envelope. Aria's familiar handwriting greeted him and he leaned back in his chair preparing to read about some kind of problem she was encountering with her lycanthropy research or complaints about how idiotic Harry and Ron could be sometimes (and what did she expect they were 14-year-old boys), but instead, he read something worse.

"What is it?" Prudence asked. "You're frowning. Did someone knock Ron down the stairs again? Is a boy bothering Ginny?"

"That's Aria's handwriting," Tracey pointed out. Prudence gasped.

"Is someone bothering Aria?" she demanded. "It's Draco isn't it? We need to have a talk with the mini-Malfoy."

"He's not the Malfoy you have to worry about," Tracey cried.

"Yeah? Well . . . he's the only Malfoy I can bully."

"I need to speak with Madam Bones," Percy declared, rising to his feet, folding Aria's letter back up. The two girls gasped.

"Someone's hurt Aria, haven't they?" Tracey cried.

"No!" Percy cried. "Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't we think that?" Prudence demanded. "Have you seen the way the papers have been talking about her this year?"

Fair enough.

"She's just written that she received information about the possibility of the Third Task being sabotaged," Percy told them. "She's fine. But when I write back to her, I'll assure her that you two harassed me to ensure her well-being. It'll make her feel all warm and cozy inside."

"Anything for our little Muggleborn Slytherin," Prudence sang.

"Come on," Percy said, ushering them towards the door. "I'll escort you to my grandfather's office on the way to Madam Bones."

"Ooo, and escort!"

"I'll be waiting in the canteen," Tracey called after them with a wave. Prudence linked arms with Percy, a smug little grin on her face. It was a grin Percy knew well that she had a plan in mind to get what she wanted. And she did not want an arranged marriage.

"What does your mother think Lord Weasley can do?" Percy asked as they made their way through the ministry. "I mean . . . he's the Head of House, sure, but he's not the one with the final say in the matter. Heads of House cannot make arranged marriages per the Law for Contracted Marriages of 1845 unless they have notarized authority for an adult or custodial guardianship over a minor."

"Mother's hoping Lord Weasley can influence your uncle," Prudence answered. "Heir Weasley's been quite difficult to pin down in recent years."

"I get that," Percy said. "But what is . . . like . . . maybe it's because my side of the family has been out of such circles but . . . tradition states that if the father is against the marriage then the marriages doesn't happen."

"Right, though we both know that traditions can be broken."

"True, I'm not saying they can't be. But your family is traditional. So even if your mother hopes that my grandfather will influence my uncle, legally nothing can happen. You're an adult, you haven't given notarized authority to your mother to make a marriage contract, and even if you had, does she truly believe that Septimus Weasley would go against tradition and a father's wishes? I mean, look at what he did to my dad and mum!"

Prudence shrugged. Percy boggled at the complexity of pureblood society. On one hand he liked all the traditions and rules. He knew what to expect and what to do and what not to do. On the other hand, some of it seemed so arbitrary with no real reason or symbolism behind the action or gesture.

They arrived outside Lord Weasley's office. Prudence's mother sat in the waiting area near the PA's desk while the PA and secretary were working together on something. Both of the greeted Percy warmly and he introduced Prudence to them.

"Lord Weasley will be right with you," the secretary, Ms. Baldwin, told Prudence. "He's in a current meeting."

"No worries," Prudence said. "Our meeting will be short as it is."

Mrs. Attlebury grabbed Prudence and began hissing in her ear. Prudence rolled her eyes in Percy's direction as he bowed out in his journey towards Madam Bones' office.

Madam Bones was, thankfully, available to see him for a few minutes. Percy was quick to inform her of the letter and show it to her. Madam Bones sighed heavily, taking off her monocle to clean it as she thought.

"How credible do you think it is?" she asked.

"I think it's credible enough if Aria's reaching out about it," Percy said. "Her letter says that she was informed which means someone went to lengths to tell her. If it wasn't credible, I don't think she'd have been told point blank about it."

Madam Bones nodded.

"It is good that she told us immediately," the Head of the DMLE said. "That gives us time to prepare. The Third Task is not for another month and a half, and we have been stretched thin what with the Crouch crisis and international scrutiny by ICW." She shook her head. "The Bulgarian Royal Family is demanding auror presence at the Third Task if only to ensure their son doesn't get used as a type of lure again. They're calling for Dumbledore to be dismissed as Supreme Mugwump too."

It would serve Dumbledore right, Percy thought vindictively. But he would not hold his breath. If it was one thing he knew well, it was that Dumbledore had the habit and ability to wriggle out of consequences. Having most of Europe in your debt could do that for a person. It would always amaze Percy to remember that his godfather was a Gryffindor alumnus and not a Slytherin. Where was the chivalry and bravery? Dumbledore was far more cunning and ambitious.

"Let's pencil in a meeting later this week to discuss security measures," Madam Bones said, pulling Percy from his thoughts. "Get ahead of the game."