A/N: The next person that sends me the same copy and pasted message begging for a fan-art commission is going to get it. Don't bother. I can draw my own. Will I ever show anyone? No, because I'm perpetually embarrassed about my drawings. But rest assured I fill my own notebooks. I've been writing ahead of schedule, so here's two chapters for this week :)

Also, if anyone cares, I've started drafting alternate titles to go with the dates.

Jul 1 - The Lightning Struck Tower

Jul 13 - Magical Music

Jul 26 - The Death of Harry Potter

Aug 22 - After the Fall of Britain

Sept 1 - Back to Hogwarts

...October 6, 1997 - Duelling in Defence

Duelling. It was all that was on anyone's mind lately. Magical combat had been emphasised from the moment the Carrows had stepped into this school. In their minds, might made right, and teaching that to the young and future soldiers of the Dark Lord would only help the cause in the future.

The other Professors were growing tired of it, veins pulsing in necks at any mention of the Carrows. Professor McGonagall in particular was having a hard time keeping her cool. She had overheard her yelling at them the other day, their shouts echoing in the corridor they thought was abandoned. Yet the professor backed down instantly at the arrival of Professor Snape. He was able to shut her down effortlessly after all this time.

That had been Andrael's cue to leave, but not before the man had glowered at her hiding spot. She hadn't been doing anything wrong, though.

Professor Flitwick had focused more on shielding and healing charms in his class, dropping obvious hints that the students might find them useful in the corridors, which had become battlezones when the teachers weren't looking. Slytherins and Gryffindors travelled in packs, protecting younger years from the older ones. Though Andrael had no use for such hordes, she walked with her classmates to blend in.

Even Professors Slughorn and Sprout had been looking out for them more than usual, a rare joint N.E.W.T. lecture focusing on healing potions from seed, to harvest, to completion.

Though she didn't take divination, stories from Daphne and Blaise made it sound like the woman was drunk all the time.

Professor Sinistra never left the astronomy tower.

And Filch was loving every minute of it, even the hallway duels, because he always got to punish some Gryffindor afterwards. (He had not, however, appreciated the pro-Dumbledore's Army graffiti that had mysteriously been appearing on the walls. A particularly large mural adorned the back of the Quidditch pitch. Punishment was still pending, as no one had come forward.)

But duelling. The fever had overtaken the students of Hogwarts with a vengeance.

Andrael for her part had always enjoyed duelling. It had been an offhand comment from Professor Quirrell that initially started her interest in it.

She had been sitting next to the shuttered window in the dim, cluttered Defence classroom. It was stiflingly hot and an odd hint of garlic lingered in the air.

Quirrell, who appeared more nervous and twitchy than usual, stood at the front, wringing his hands as he addressed the first years. His voice wavered, cracking as he tried to explain the basics of countering minor hexes and jinxes in his pathetic stutter.

Pansy and Millicent were having a full conversation under their breaths, unimpressed with the timid Professor's delivery. This was back when they were friends, back when all the Slytherins were young and innocent. Draco was still arrogant, Blaise and Theo used to laugh, Daphne was vibrant and inquisitive.

Realising he had lost their attention, Quirrell, perhaps out of frustration, veered off-script. It was only later when Andrael realised his competence that she wondered.

He frowned, lowering his voice conspiratorially as he began to talk about the difference between common jinxes and true Dark curses.

"S-S-Some s-spells," he said, eyes glinting far beyond their usual dullness, as if recalling a dangerous memory, "Are f-far b-beyond the t-trivial. A p-proper duel... well, it's n-not just c-casting spells, b-b-but understand-d-ing when t-to strike, where t-to aim, a-and how t-to leave a m-mark." He gestured vaguely with his wand, as if hinting at deeper, more powerful magics just beyond their reach.

He then dropped his voice further, glancing around as though making sure they were alone, and added the line that caught her attention:

"You see… a t-truly skilled duelist doesn't only defend; they control the field, they m-make themselves untouchable. Those who command this skill…"—and he glanced almost instinctively over at her with a slight smirk—"c-can sway minds, alter allegiances, even earn the respect of the M-ministry. Only the keen and clever c-can master such finesse…"

She glanced around at her classmates, but no one else seemed to think this statement was anything out of the ordinary. Andrael, on the other hand, had sat there, eyes wide, like someone had given her the keys to the universe. People fought with magic for fun. And there was a reason beyond show-boating…

Quirrell's slip—a glimpse into duelling not as a mere defence but as a way to command respect—sparked something ambitious in her, something that wanted to pursue that untouchable status. Because while Andrael didn't crave political power, she wanted to be the best at something. Even from a young age, she had always wanted to push the limits.

Months later, she would recall the stutter slowly disappearing as he spoke to her, wondering why he had chosen to break the mask just a little, at that exact moment.

It had been a while before she had truly been able to find a place to practise. In fact, it wasn't until after the disaster of the school's last duelling club in her second year that she looked in earnest.

One thing that most students didn't know was that deep beneath the lake, the Slytherin common room led to a maze of old tunnels. The main tunnel, of course, led to the dormitories and bathrooms. The most commonly used side tunnel led to a quiet study area. But further underground, there laid an old amphitheatre type structure, with old stone benches.

Hogwarts: A History had spoken of an old chamber the Slytherins had used to settle honour duels, and Andrael had found it, with all of its protective charms intact. Most of the House knew about it, and it was still occasionally used for various purposes, but the fact that she had found it herself meant a lot to Andrael.

She had practised throwing jynxes until she had magically exhausted herself, day after day, complex spell after complex spell. She even brought her violin down there a few days to practise songspells, finding the space much more spacious and resonant compared to the dusty classroom she had been using.

But in the present, duelling mania had gripped the school. Amycus had been making them practise combat magic in Defence classes for the past two weeks in anticipation of the new club. They were quick partnered spars; nothing serious for the moment, being mostly just informative. Amycus used them to teach a spell or two… except the subject material grew darker and darker by the day.

The N.E.W.T. level seventh years had evening Defence classes, the lessons running long after most teachers had finished for the day. Most students thought it was a hellish way to end the day, being humiliated by the Carrows, but Andrael wasn't most students.

Andrael filed into the spacious Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, noting the sombre faces of her non-Slytherin classmates. The atmosphere was tense. On the board was today's lesson title scrawled in a jagged, careless hand: Combat Magic: Confronting Your Enemy.

Amycus Carrow stood at the front of the room, a cruel grin stretching across his face as he surveyed the students, clearly relishing the anticipation of fear. His sister, Alecto, lurked in the shadows near the door, a silent, menacing presence. Her eyes darted between the students, especially the Gryffindors, like a vulture sizing up her prey.

Andrael slid into her usual seat on the end next to Daphne. She gazed down the line to Millicent, who looked slightly uncomfortable. She hated this class more than most, as the man she was betrothed to had unlimited access to her.

As they settled in, Amycus began without preamble, his voice sharp and grating.

"Right. Today, we'll be covering spells your average witch or wizard couldn't dream of handling. We're not talking little jynxes here, nah. Real wizards use magic that bites, claws… magic that hurts." He paused, clearly expecting some kind of reaction, but the students remained silent, wary.

He gestured sharply with his wand, and a long, narrow table flew into the centre of the room, smacking loudly as it landed. Upon it was a selection of ominous-looking, dark-coloured spell books and objects that no professor in their right mind would ever put in front of students. The room seemed to shrink around them as Andrael's vision tunnelled onto those books.

Those could teach us for years… Slytherin was salivating at the thought of committing the words on the page to memory, casting darker and darker spells…

All in good time. Rational's curiosity was also piqued.

"Now, pay attention." Amycus's bark drew her reluctantly back to the present. "Today, you're going to learn the curse known as Flagellum Ignis, the Flaming Lash. Used by some of the finest pureblood families to keep… certain folk… in line." His grin widened as he explained, relishing in the shock and horror on a few of the students' faces. "And I expect y'all to show a bit more… enthusiasm this time, eh, sods?"

A flicker of movement at the back caught Andrael's eye. Neville Longbottom, defiant despite the bruises visible on his face from earlier detentions, seemingly couldn't keep quiet any longer. Andrael inwardly sighed. Why couldn't the boy just shut up? In one year that boy could freedom fight as many Death Eaters as he wanted. It wasn't worth getting beat up by a couple of overgrown schoolchildren for a temporary victory.

"Well, if it ain't the fearless Gryffindor himself! What is it, Longbottom? Think you have something to add to the conversation, do you?" There was a smug smirk on Amycus's face as Neville rose to the bait.

"Nah. But I just think it's ridiculous you're calling this 'Defence Against the Dark Arts.' Teaching students to harm each other isn't defence; it's torture."

Andrael and her Slytherins chuckled darkly, entertained by Neville's stand. But Amycus's face contorted with anger, clearly not used to being spoken to this way by a student. Neville was calm, nonchalant, collected… it was a far cry from his usual emotional outbursts.

"Torture? Torture's what happens to cheeky little buggers like you when you don't know your place. Why, you're lucky we're even teaching you anything other than how to stay out of our way."

"Pfft. We were better off with any other professor than with you two pretending to teach us anything worth learning. Hell, even Lockhart taught shite. Sometimes. Rarely. But he didn't brutalise students.

A flicker of tension sweeps across the room as Neville's words hang in the air. Many of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs seemed to agree with him. Bored, Pansy sneered at Neville, clearly fed up with his constant resistance.

"Can you shut it, Longbottom? Some of us actually want to learn how to defend ourselves—and we don't need another bloody Gryffindor lecture on your wayward morals. Where did those morals get Dumbledore…? Oh right, dead in a ditch."

The rest of the Slytherins murmured in agreement, Crabbe and Goyle sniggering cruelly. Pansy's jab had visibly unsettled Neville, if only because he wasn't expecting opposition from a peer. Before he could respond, Alecto, who had been watching with interest, stepped in, her voice dripping with contempt.

Andrael had noted how the woman had clearly taken a shine to Pansy, the latter of whom was milking her favour for all it was worth. Amycus seemed to prefer Crabbe and Goyle, the first teacher in the history of Hogwarts to have that sentiment. But Andrael had to hand it to the boys… this class seemed to be built for their success. This was the first time they had excelled at anything. It almost made her sad that it took a whole lot of power and encouragement from society to fill them with that confidence.

"Parkinson's got it right, doesn't she? See, Longbottom, magic's not something' just anyone can master. Especially not… Well, some of you other lot." Alecto swept her gaze over the room, disdain evident as her eyes landed on Andrael and the other halfbloods. "Some blood's just better, more capable, more… magical."

"Magic isn't about blood. It's about what you do with it." Neville was standing now, annoyance creeping into his voice.

Alecto's only response was a mocking laugh her brother quickly joined in on.

"Typical. You're just parroting the nonsense you've been fed by that old fool Dumbledore." She spits on the ground at the mention of his name. "But the truth is, some of us have magic in our veins. Real, strong magic that those mudbloods and some of you halfbloods couldn't dream of touching'. It's like trying to teach a rat to cast spells—sure, they can mimic the moves, but the power just isn't there."

"Hermione Granger could have out-duelled any of you if she wanted. Blood means nothing if you've got bloody talent." Neville's fist clenched his wand, white-knuckled.

Alecto's face flushed with anger, but she quickly composed herself, flashing a dark smile. "Oh, you'll be proven wrong soon enough, boy. With power comes purity, and purity brings power. It's in our very bones, something the charred bones of your precious Granger could never understand. Parkinson here, and others like her… they've got strength you could never hope to match."

Pansy shifted uncomfortably at the direct mention of her name, caught between loyalty and a subtle discomfort at being used as Alecto's example. She smiled, projecting her false calm.

"It's just the truth, Longbottom. You may not like it, but that's how it is." She said simply. Andrael tried her best not to laugh.

"You can tell yourself that, but it doesn't change a thing. You're all so obsessed with purity you've forgotten what it even means to be decent, you gormless chavs!" He scoffed.

"Silence!" Amycus cut him off sharply. He raised his wand, a cruel gleam in his eye as he stormed towards Neville's seat in the back. "You'll learn respect, Longbottom, one way or another."

The flaming lash appeared as a whip at the end of his wand, whistling through the air. The smack as it came down across Neville's face reverberated through the air.

A tense silence filled the room as Neville finally fell quiet, though the defiance was still visible in his eyes. With a triumphant smirk, Alecto gestured for Amycus to continue.

"Now that we've cleared up the matter, let's return to what true combat magic looks like. But you've all made it clear that you need… further inspiration. Who among you is the best duellist?"

Andrael shifted in her seat restlessly. She did not want to volunteer before she knew what she was volunteering for.

Draco wordlessly pointed at Pansy as Amycus looked his way. Blaise and Theo, sensing an out, quickly followed suit. Pansy scowled at them, but stood, crossing to the front of the room.

"I am skilled in the duelling arts," she stated, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Wonderful." Amycus clapped his hands. "Who thinks they can take on Miss Parkinson?"

Pansy smirked at Millicent, who averted her gaze.

It only took a split second of hesitation for Andrael to shoot out of her chair.

"Duel Pansy? Oh, I'd love to."

"Are you… sure?" There was mocking incredulity in Alecto's voice.

"Quite. I may be a halfblood, but I understand the assignment. In fact, let's put that to the test. Pansy should easily beat me as a pureblood… right?"

"I suppose…" The Carrows had fallen right into her trap. A fleeting look of panic crossed Pansy's face at her confidence, but was quickly schooled into something fiercer, more determined.

Andrael rolled up her sleeves, a sadistic grin on her face.

"I've waited for this for a while, Parkinson," she murmured so that only the girl could hear. "Now I get to prove to you I'm not the enemy you want. And I get to send you to the hospital wing? It must be my lucky day…"

The last part was a bluff. Andrael didn't really want to hurt Pansy, but the Carrows would expect a performance. She watched Pansy question all her life decisions that led up to this point, and could only grin wider in response.

Andrael stood poised, waiting for Amycus to bring his hand down to mark the beginning of the duel. There was no bowing in this room.

Thinking back to what she knew, Andrael recalled that Pansy was a force of nature. When threatened, she had always been a student who thrived on aggression, wielding her magic like a deadly storm. Victory would need to be subtle until it was inescapable.

Andrael cracked her neck, the act as intimidating as it was practical. Her eyes never left Amycus. And then he dropped his hand.

As the duel commenced, Pansy drew her wand, summoning a stream of water that coalesced into jagged icicles. With a fierce flick of her wrist, she hurled them at Andrael, each shard glinting menacingly in the dim light.

Andrael moved instinctively, a rush of wind at her back. She evaded the first projectile with a graceful twist, the icy shard narrowly missing her shoulder and embedding itself into the stone wall behind her. A rush of excitement surged through her veins as she realised Pansy's attacks were precise but predictable. The water magic flowed smoothly from Pansy's wand, creating barriers of ice that Andrael would have to circumvent.

"Too slow, Parkinson." Andrael taunted, her voice light, even as her heart raced. She conjured a swirling mist around her, cloaking her movements in obscurity. As the ice shattered against the stone, the mist twisted and danced, providing her the perfect cover to slip away.

Pansy's eyes narrowed in irritation. She sent wave after wave of ice, each one crashing against the swirling barriers Andrael had created. The ice glimmered and shattered into shards that rained down around them. Close calls peppered the exchange, with ice grazing Andrael's arm and glancing off her side, but she remained untouchable, a ghost on the battlefield, slipping through the confines of the small space like a mirage.

Pansy's frustration mounted with each missed strike. "Stand still!" she snapped, her voice laced with growing anger. The icy veneer she relied on began to crack under the pressure, and Andrael could see it in her opponent's eyes. Pansy's attacks became more aggressive, less controlled, the rhythm of the duel shifting as her precision slipped.

Andrael appeared for a moment, blocking and parrying her attacks. The exchanges lasted quickly, only for Andrael to retreat again and again. Pansy was dizzy from swivelling to find her, narrowing her eyes to squint through the mist.

Andrael felt a surge of confidence as Pansy's frustration started to bubble over, creating an opening. With a quick flick, she manipulated the air around her, sending tendrils of wind to scatter the mist, allowing her to take advantage of Pansy's overcommitment.

She tagged the girl with an icicle of her own, watching Pansy shatter it inches from her face. Slowly, she began to mess with her; a jet of flames here, a tripping jynx there… Andrael wanted to annoy Pansy more than anything at this stage.

And it was working. Her attacks became more reckless and desperate. Pansy stomped her foot, sending pillars of ice jutting out of the floor towards Andrael. A shard sprouted from the wall that she barely ducked under. A quick flame melted one in the thin air just before it reached her. Andrael's wand was never still, conjuring wards and shields when she wasn't directly attacking.

The classroom fell away as she toyed with Pansy, students rapt with attention beneath her notice. Andrael locked eyes with her, recovering her shit-eating grin.

"So, Parkinson. How are you?"

"What-? How am I?" She sputtered, launching a jet of water into the misty shields.

"Yeah. How are you?"

"Cassowary, this is a bloody duel, not a conversation!" Andrael sent a blast of flame at her stalagmites, clearing the battlefield and melting the ice.

"You didn't answer the question!" She sing-songed.

"I'm fine," Pansy gritted out, creating a tidal wave from the standing water.

"Pffft. Are you even trying? Because this is almost too easy." Andrael sent a gust of wind through the wave, causing it to break on the wall around her, but leaving her dry and unscathed. Her mist had been cleared by the water, though. She quickly piped more into the room, dancing into the shadows.

"Am not! You think you're so clever hiding in that smoke? It just makes you look weak!"

"Weakness. That's something you'd know all about, right?" She stumbled slightly, catching her balance just before Pansy impaled her.

"Try not to trip over your own bravado, Andrael." Pansy laughed, trying to capitalise on the mistake. "It won't look good on your record."

"My record's not the one in trouble." She shot a bolt of lightning at Pansy, who ducked, sending students scattering.

"Keep flailing like that, and you might just hit a Gryffindor instead!"

Andrael just laughed, retreating back into the smoke. She reemerged to half-heartedly jab a jelly-legs jynx at Pansy, before vanishing again and again.

Pansy fired blanks into the smoke, growling in frustration.

"With moves like that, you'll be better off joining the ballet than duelling."

Andrael preened under the praise. "I am a good dancer, aren't I?"

"Eurgh! Just come out and fight me, you bitch!" Pansy seethed.

"Fine, fine. Enough games." Andrael declared, her voice suddenly steely as the atmosphere shifted. With a sudden burst of determination, she launched a brutal assault, focusing on speed and precision. Wind swirled violently around her as she became a blur, darting in and out of Pansy's range, forcing her to react instinctively rather than strategically.

Andrael feinted left, then right, her movements seamless. Pansy swung her wand, but the icy barriers she summoned failed to keep up with the onslaught. Andrael began to land hits: gusts of wind knocked Pansy off balance, the swift punch of a knockback jynx landed on her side, sending her sprawling back into the cold stone wall. The impact rattled Pansy, leaving her breathless.

Andreal seized the opportunity, the thrill of the fight propelling her forward. She unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one designed to exploit the cracks in Pansy's defences. The sheer ferocity of her attacks pushed Pansy further into a corner, her confidence now visibly shaken. Ice and water spells sputtered weakly, desperation clouding her focus.

"Is this the best you can do?" Andrael taunted, her voice laced with confidence as she pressed the assault. "I expected more from Slytherin's little princess… what, with all the talking you do… all bark and no bite. It's just yap, yap, yap, like one of those annoying little dogs…"

"I am not-"

"Yap, yap, yap."

"Stop it-!"

"YAP, YAP, YAP."

A final burst of wind sent Pansy sprawling against the wall, and before she could recover, Andrael closed in. In a swift, brutal motion, she landed a powerful blasting charm, sending Pansy crashing to the ground, the impact echoing like thunder in the silent chamber.

Pansy lay there, bruised and defeated, barely conscious against the cold stone floor. The stunned spectators watched in silence as Andrael straightened, breathing heavily but steady, victorious.

She flicked her wand, sending a stupefy to stun the girl and put her out of her misery.

Andrael turned back to the class, many of which were staring at her with fear, and respect, and a little awe. Millicent was rigid, terrified. Daphne had her hand on her shoulder, wordlessly comforting her from… something. Neville's jaw hung open. Draco looked thoughtful.

"Curious that the halfblood won…" Andrael said just loud enough for the whole class to hear.

Amycus and Alecto seemed to snap back to attention.

"Crabbe, Goyle, get Parkinson to the hospital wing. For homework, thirty centimetres on traditional versus combat duelling. Class dismissed."

Andrael huffed a silent laugh at their lack of comment, sheathing her wand and stalking out of the classroom. She didn't look back once, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she strode towards the Slytherin dorms.

We are just brilliant! Slytherin crowed to its compatriots.

We have gained social capital in the form of respect, and did not showcase too much too soon. This is acceptable, Rational concurred.

So what's up with Millicent? Speculative hissed.

I hope she's okay… and Pansy for that matter too… Morality sounded worried.

It's her fault for picking a fight with us, Slytherin rolled its eyes.

She did volunteer, said Rational.

Draco volunteered her. It's not the same! Morality whined.

Semantics. We won fair and square. Slytherin was firm.

Andrael sighed. She had just enough time to pop into the kitchens for a snack. Hopefully it would be deserted so she could decompress.

Her plan was going well. It was time to start plotting her next moves.

She tickled the pear, causing the portrait of the fruit bowl to swing open, revealing the entrance to the kitchens. Clambering inside, Andrael was greeted by a pair of bowing house elves. The mirrors of the four house tables above in the Great Hall were spotless.

"Missus Cassy wants her usual?" The one on the left spoke in a high-pitched voice.

"Yes Froggins, thank you." She sat on a rickety wooden chair in the corner, tucked out of sight.

Andrael didn't even remember when she first started devouring Nanaimo bars. It was at some point in her childhood during a trip to France, when her mum had bought her one off a street vendor. Canadian in origin, Nanaimo bars were a nutty, decadent dessert with a graham cracker, coconut, and almond crust, buttery custard and melted chocolate. They required zero baking, yet Andrael ruined them every time she tried to make them herself… somehow. Only the House Elves could recreate the delicious taste of that memory perfectly.

Andrael missed her mom a lot. These days, it was more as a concept. Sure, she missed Genevieve the person, but what would it be like to have a mother to shield her from the world at age seventeen, a mum who would keep her safe and protect her? She could only imagine warm hugs from someone she loved.

Since coming to Hogwarts this year, Andrael had been extremely lonely. None of the Slytherins were interested in making new friends at this point (and certainly not with a halfblood). She had missed her opportunity to form bonds with them as a first year, something she almost regretted. Yet it had been a lot of them that branded her as an odd little halfblood swot, who didn't truly belong in Slytherin.

She hadn't cared back then, not when there were Hogwarts secrets to explore and magic to learn… but now? Now, as she was preparing to throw her life away to save this god-forsaken country? Now, she cared. Stupid emotions.

Froggins brought her her treat, and she thanked him, pulling out a book. The kitchens were a welcome atmosphere in the dark castle. The smell of caramel and sugar in a pan, or garlic and onions over mincemeat gave the air a pleasant, welcoming aroma. She didn't have to worry about Slytherins or evil teachers when she was in the kitchens. She could read, and feel safe in the familiar.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she realised she was no longer alone. Hushed voices came from one of the mirror tables in the kitchen.

Neville Longbottom stood at the head of the table, tapping a piece of parchment, a nasty welt oozing a thick liquid having sprung up on his face above existing bruises where Amycus had gotten him. A dozen or so students appeared to be gathered around him, a small map of Hogwarts spread out in front of them. She froze, listening in on their conversation.

"…need to decide where we're going to put it this time. It has to be somewhere visible but not too risky. Any ideas?"

Luna Lovegood tilted her head thoughtfully. "What about near the Entrance Hall? Everyone walks through there, and it's usually busy. We could blend in with the crowd."

"Busy is the problem. If a teacher catches us, we'll be in serious trouble. What about somewhere less populated, like the back of the Astronomy Tower?" Zacharius Smith snorted.

"That's kind of out of the way. Would people even see it? I thought we wanted something that'll make a statement." Michael Corner shrugged.

"What about the wall in the courtyard? Everyone has to pass through there between classes! We could do it just before lunch when it's packed." Colin and Dennis Creevy bounced up and down.

"But what if we're caught?" Ernie MacMillian murmured, the Patil twins nodding. The Carrows are always prowling around that area. We need to be smart about this."

"What about the girls' bathroom on the second floor? It's usually empty, and we could easily sneak in and out. Plus, we could do something really colourful and fun… and the boys bathroom too?" Susan Bones elbowed Hannah Abbott in the ribs.

"That's a good point. The second-floor bathroom is pretty isolated, but we need to make sure we don't draw any attention. If anyone hears us or sees us going in, it'll be over." Neville frowned down at the map.

"I like that idea! The elves could even help us clean up if we need it. They're very discreet." Luna nodded, her radish earring bobbing with the motion.

"So, the bathrooms then? It could work, but we have to make sure we keep an eye out for anyone coming down the corridor."

"Alright, let's go with the bathrooms. How about you girls meet there tomorrow afternoon before dinner…? Boys can do it after?" Neville looked at each of them as they murmured assent. "Good. Stay sharp, and remember: no noise. We can do this if we work together."

Padma Patil rolled up the map, pocketing it. Leave it to a Ravenclaw to come prepared. Andrael heard Neville bid goodnight to the elves, as they stole out of the kitchen in inconspicuous twos and threes.

"Thanks, Dobby…" he said to a particularly eager-looking elf. "Harry would be proud of you, mate." The elf's eyes filled with tears as he shook Neville's hand empathetically. Andrael averted her eyes, embarrassed. Memories of a scorched house filled her mind, the scent of charred bone seeming to be just around the corner… No. That wasn't real. They were why she was doing this. She was fighting for all of them.

After she was certain they were gone, she stood, stretching nonchalantly, before returning to her dorm. She wasn't going to mess with Dumbledore's army. Especially not now when their anti-Carrow interests aligned.

Andrael felt strangely powerful as she walked down the hall. A pair of first years looked at her fearfully, scrambling out of the way. News of her victory had clearly spread around the school.

As she descended into the dungeons, she could feel eyes watching her. Even the portraits on the walls were curious about the small curly-haired witch who dared to wipe the floor with royalty. She smiled hollowly. Andrael liked power, but there was something about being feared that unsettled her. She supposed it was best to get her practice in now before she was caught off-guard deep undercover.

"Calliditatis et virtutis…" she murmured, the wall of the common room sliding open. Slughorn clearly preferred latin passwords, this one roughly translating to "...of cunning and virtue."

The common room fell silent as she entered, causing her to pause by the doorway. Andrael gazed at all the faces looking back at her, taking in expressions of curiosity and apprehension. The hush faded as she started to purposefully walk towards her dorm.

Pushing open the door to the seventh year girls' dorm, two voices immediately fell silent. Millicent ws sitting on the edge of Pansy's bed, talking to the girl laying down. Daphne stood close, leaning against the wall, not offering much contribution.

Millicent met Andrael's eyes, nodding in approval. She was more impressed than resentful, which Andrael appreciated. Pansy had her back to her, making no effort to move.

Wordlessly, Andrael put down her bag, gathering her toiletries to get ready for bed. As she passed her, she realised that Daphne hadn't even seemed to register she was there, staring down at the floor. Neither of them were going to help her, so she would need to extend an olive branch herself.

"How are you feeling, Pansy?" She said calmly, still gathering her things.

"Like you care," she scoffed.

"I'm a pragmatic person. I wouldn't ask if I didn't care."

"I'm fine." A lie.

Andrael looked up at all three of them.

"This dorm doesn't have to be another one of those places where we have to pretend to be strong," she said quietly. "We don't need to be enemies. We don't have to use anything against each other."

Her words were met with nothing, so left the room, her exit hopefully conveying her sincerity. She wanted them to be true for her as much as everyone else. But she was cursed to walk her dark path alone, it seemed. Andrael had known that at the start, but that didn't mean she wouldn't rather have someone who understood. It was better than nothing.