"Nott, you were most quiet in our conversation with Hornby earlier … How are we doing today?"

Rouvenia – who has joined Avery and his friends meanwhile – giggles almost pitifully at Nott's uncomfortable expression.

If I didn't know better, I'd think he's afraid of his own shadow. But in fact it's only my shadow that frightens him.

He's clearing his throat, then stammers, "Is that … is that a serious question, Tom?"

"Almost."

"Don't worry, Nottie," Rouvenia laughs, letting herself drop into the grass to fully enjoy the sun. "He won't bite in front of so many others."

"Are you sure about that?" I ask.

She squints her eyes in the bright daylight with a grin and nods.

"Why doesn't it bother you when they chatter?" Avery complains at once. "We were just supposed to be quiet a moment ago and now that."

Lestrange nods, no less offended.

"You had nothing of substance to say initially," I say. "Still, excellent demonstration of Slytherin's strength – I'll give you that."

Mulciber is as delighted as can be. "We've made it clear to Hornby that we don't need any other houses!"

"What we do need, though," Lestrange hooks in, his tone one of clear demand, "is more practice. Nott's attack spells are still not good enough, and Mulciber's Cruciatus doesn't even tickle …"

"Do you two hear that?" I groan. "What are we supposed to do with you?"

"Oh, oh, Nottie, apparently you need tutoring again," Rouvenia whispers, giving him a wink. "You honestly need to improve. Cassia and I can't always be there when those nasty Gryffindors come to tease you as they do. Don't you want to train on each other again?"

"Anything but that," Nott immediately squeaks.

"Stop whining and come with me," I order, waving him along. "Let's go for a walk."

"Just the two of us?" he asks, gulping.

"You and me," I confirm with the last glimpse of patience in me. "Or do you require Rouvenia to hold your hand for that as well?"

She all but chuckles and proceeds to shoo him away. "Off you go! Our esteemed Prefect needs something from you."

"Are you trying to insult me?" I ask, and while Nott flinches, Rouvenia notices my faint smile at once. "Insinuating I was that predictable …"

Nott rises in great discomfort as she retorts, "If I were you, I'd only trade Sullivan's company for good reason as well."

"There you have it, Nott," Mulciber chortles as we begin to walk on. "It's your lucky day!"

"Stop it already," he mutters, forced to leave their spot on the shore behind with me.

"Isn't it a glorious day?" I soon ask him, fully aware that I don't even remotely sound like it.

He can hardly hold my gaze.
How on earth did he make it into the dungeon …
Perhaps he would've been better off in the harmony of Hufflepuff. That way he'd never have been on my radar in the first place, and I'd hardly be circling him like a predator its prey.

"Well, the sun is shining and you … you seem quite content," he finally says, clearing his throat uncertainly. "If you don't mind me saying so, I mean …"

"Say whatever you want," I reply, "let's just not lose focus on what's important, shall we?"

The way he's so scared of me is actually as bizarre as it is aristophanic. If he'd only use a tiny part of his brain, he could realise that I'm only helping him. Possibly using somewhat rough methods – but after all, life doesn't hesitate about challenges either.

"Focus on what?" he finally manages to ask, his anxiety peaking.

"Do you hear the Sirens?" I know exactly how much it wrecks him that I don't just get to the point. "The Selkies and Merrows?"

He shakes his head, rolling his sleeves back down to his hands. As though he could sense a certain chill despite the mild temperatures …

"They sing," I enlighten him. "Can't you hear their songs?"

"Above the surface?" he ventures as reply. "I'm afraid not. Can you?"

I nod. "That's the advantage of thoughtful silence, Nott. You hear and see all sorts of interesting things …"

That's utter nonsense – I don't hear anything at all. But the statement doesn't miss its mark.

He swallows hard, then he finally works up the courage to ask, "What are you getting at? If Rouvenia is right and you need something, then please just say it. I haven't been able to sleep properly since we last practised …"

"Is that so?" In mock-concern I tilt my head. "It was very foolish of you to secretly follow me. And those miserable spells of yours were practically begging me to teach you a lesson. But I never intended you to lose sleep over it."

"No, you sure did," he meekly protests. "You have no idea how painful a Cruciatus can be …"

"I do now, to keep things fair." I counter. "Dolor hic tibi proderit olim. From Ovid. One day the pain will be of use."

His look is not exactly one of benevolent approval. "You really think that?"

"Oh, yes. And one hand washes the other, as they say …"

He's flinching yet again, already suspecting the worst.

"Nott," I proceed with a wan smile as though we were old friends, "surely you want to help me – and sleep soundly again."

"What do you want?"

"As I hear and see a lot – you know that now – it's always been perfectly clear to me that your family is responsible for the Pure-Blood Directory."

He shakes his head, visibly horrified. "My family has nothing to do with it, Tom! Even if you think –"

"I know it," I let my voice cut across his and wait until I can tell that the words have fully reached him. "And you wouldn't lie to my face, would you?"

He struggles, defenseless in his dilemma once again.
Risk a lie, in front of me, being the form any of his boggarts would take, or bravely keep the family secret?

It seems to dawn on him that he's stuck in a losing game for the latter anyway. So he finally sighs. "How?"

"How I know?" I shrug. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that you'd better practise occlumency? And a little more confidence would do you good, Nott. Let Rouvenia help you. If you seem so hopelessly anxious the moment you feel caught, you're honestly a sitting duck for the world."

"Apparently mostly for you," he tries for restrained sarcasm.

"So be it, you got my point," I confirm. "Now that we've cleared that up and you're aware of the circumstances of our conversation – let's talk about your … grandfather's life's work? I assume it was he who devoted himself to the genealogy of the known bloodlines?"

He hesitates, and there's a hint of resistance in his eyes.

"Nott," I groan, "you do realise that we can play this game exactly two ways, don't you? Either we have a civilised conversation about the songs of the Merpeople and the Directory, or …" I shrug my shoulders and stare at him. "Probate means to my end make you sing. Got it?"

He nods, though there's plenty of exasperation in his mimic. "Grandfather Cantankerus did eventually compile all the research and put it into form, but … my family had begun it many years before."

"What a noble work," I praise in clear irony. "To maintain the broken pillars of our world, particularly zealous advocates of purity can choose children of other ever so holy families thanks to you. How selfless of you to stand up for the traditions of magic …"

Nott looks at me with puppy eyes, then says, "I do realise how you must feel about this, due to Sullivan being a mud-"

"Shut it," I interrupt him, "don't even think –"

"No, no, you've got me all wrong, Tom!" he hastens to say. "I don't think anything of blood purity myself! Ever since I can remember I've seen how much inbreeding some families have been willing to put up with – it's sheer madness …"

"And yet fascinating," I reply a tad more kindly, "you must invest in a lot of space for all that paperwork, don't you?"

"Quite so, yes …"

"Your family has archives with records of the research?"

"Well, err … yes?" He glances up as if by now, he would rather drown in the Black Lake than answer me.

"Thought so." I let my gaze wander to the glistening surface of the water. "And what are your plans for Easter, Nott?"

Yet again he stares at me. "Why do you ask that?"

"Just tell me," I urge.

"I'm staying here," he hurries to say, "because I have to … study."

"Sure." I grin. "Whenever I've used that excuse in the past, it sounded a bit more convincing."

"But it's the truth! I was planning to stay here!"

"Did you now." I smile at him. "I'll help you. You'd better plan again, because does that seem to be what I want to hear?"

He slowly shakes his head.

"What do I want to hear?"

He gulps. "That I'm … going home? Do you want me to do some research for you? In our archives?"

"No, Nott," I correct, "I would never ask you to do that, you'd be too nervous to fail …" A sigh of relief escapes him already, but I'm only too happy to add, "I'll do the research myself."

"What? In our archives?" He shakes his head in horror. "Absolutely impossible, Tom, you can't!"

"Don't you say that. I'm sure you'll make it happen. If need be, just use your wand for once …"

"Tom, that is –"

"I won't stay long either, don't worry," I promise. "Half a day, maybe less. Can you arrange that?"

Pure desperation on his features.

"My family will kill me …"

I can't help but laugh. "And what exactly makes you believe I wouldn't? Just think about what you prefer, will you? And don't dare talk to anyone about this, yes?"

"Tom, wait!"

"No more time for you, Nott," I call over my shoulder. "I'm excited for our trip, though."

"Tom!"

"Was great chatting with you," I'm shouting back to him not even pausing.

And the very next moment, Dean Hornby apparently doesn't even consider it might be an option to not get on my nerves as I pass his group. Raymond next to him has again been joined by Orion Black and is glaring dully at me just like the other two.

"What did you just say to Nott?" Hornby frowns from afar. "Why is he so apathetic now?"

Raymond is as cheeky as ever as well. "Did you threaten him, Riddle?"

It's about time for a little clearing. From a distance, any dog can bark, yet facing confrontation directly, most are already much more humble.

As practised to the point of unconsciousness by now, I dissipate into black smoke and head straight for Hornby and Raymond at lightning speed. The whole group dodges in fright of me, and before they know it, I'm standing in their midst, bending down to the two retreating heroes.

"Let's not strain our voices too much, shall we?"

"How did you do that?" Raymond asks in raw bewilderment.

"How did Houdini free himself underwater?" He knows I'm watching him with a sharp eye and it's sheer bliss to see how uncomfortable it makes him. "I'll tell you, Greene. He just did." Then I want to know, "Now back to your curiosity, but before I elaborate – could it be that you're blind? Black, if you're straying into such narrow-minded company yet again, at least tell me whether they're blind."

Orion just shakes his head, probably still a little shocked about the fact that I was so suddenly right next to him.

"There you go." I nod. "Then you were actually able to see how Nott and I were merely talking."

"I don't believe you," Raymond protests in his oh so typical Gryffindor arrogance, "you threatened him, didn't you?"

"You'd better watch out I don't threaten you!" I warn Raymond. "And why waste your house's courage on me again – just sort out that ridiculous petty quarrel with your sister. You can think of me whatever you like, but Elliott certainly doesn't deserve your infantile prejudice. He's treating her better than you ever have and you know it."

Before Raymond can even revolt, Hornby raises his chin, asking, "And you? Are you treating Sullivan in the same exemplary way? Does she really turn your head or do you simply like to cloud her mind with the dark magic that surrounds you?"

"And if the latter was the case, do you really think it wise to be so bloody damn loud about it? I'd gather those who only ever wake in light and yet wish to defy darkness ought to better be prepared for it."

"We can duel here and now!" he boldly says.

I all but chuckle.

"Don't," Black immediately whispers to him, shaking his head. "Trust me – no. Forget it, Dean."

Trying to swallow his anger, he looks back up.

Ravenclaw seems nowhere near as smart as Slytherin at this moment. Black may be stupid as hell, but at least, unlike Hornby, he has long since realised who you mess with once at most.

My face is likely as dark as it gets when I tell Hornby, "We'll duel once you dare call the most brilliant witch you'll ever meet a disgrace for your house again. You have my word." Then I nod farewell to the group, already moving on. "Enjoy the sun …"

I can already see Harper waiting for me – together with Rou and Leonora she's standing in the shallow waters of the Black Lake, Elliott has meanwhile joined Lestrange, Mulciber and Avery.

"Nott looks like he's seen a ghost," Rou states, stifling a laugh as I sit down next to Elliott.

"I can reassure you just like those gentlemen back there," I retort, "that it was just me."

Harper smiles in somewhat amused surrender. "Rabbits are still clearly too much fun for you to chase."

"What did …" Leonora clears her throat. "What did my brother say?" she asks, trying not to look too upset.

"You'll soon make up," I claim.

Thoughtfully she nods, Avery murmurs, "Tom, what was that? We want to be able to fly like that, too."

Harper and Rouvenia agree.

"Go find a Professor then."

"Shall we ask Dumbledore?" Harper grins and the other two ladies also giggle away at these words. "I'm sure he'd be genuinely interested to learn what the constant cause of his suspicion has developed all on his own."

"Houdini didn't give away his secrets either. You all better keep your feet on the ground …"

"Who the hell is Houdini?" Mulciber asks.

"Never mind," I grumble, actually dropping back into the meadow for once as well. "Let's just put general knowledge to the back of our minds until you, too, can manage a proper escape spell."

"Black!" Avery exclaims as he now also approaches us. "Finding your way back to your fellow snakes?"

"If you'll still have me," Orion says. "I can't listen to any more of that empty talk about fame and wisdom."

"So much for the Slug Club?" I ask, continuing to stare up at the cloudless sky with Elliott. "You and your new friends don't like the same people I thought?"

"That I don't like you, you've known since our first year," he growls. "But how could you fly like that? I also want to practise again."

"Practise again?" Harper repeats. "Riddle, no! Don't tell me Slytherin is using the Room of –"

"Requirement?" Rouvenia completes. "Yes, we do! For the Dark Arts. They teach those to my cousin in Durmstrang in regular classes, only here the headmaster makes a state affair of it."

Harper sighs and I don't even have to look into her face. I know she hates me a tiny bit. She's showing me the Room of Requirement for my Fiendfyre, and I'm showing Slytherin the Room of Requirement for the Dark Arts …

A violation of her trust?
It might be if she didn't know me so well anyway.

And instead of being angry, she thinks aloud, "Basically, you can only defend yourself against what you know, right?"

"Your head of house doesn't show us much helpful tactics in Defence," Rouvenia says. "So Tom thought Slytherin had a reputation to lose and needs some practice."

"Did Tom think so?" Harper asks.

I smirk in silence, my eyes still closed because of the bright sun, at least until I hear her come out of the water and suddenly have her hand in mine because she's lying down next to me.

This is more beautiful than the Black Lake. More beautiful than the sun. Her grounding warm touch is so much better than flying.

"What are you up to?" she whispers. "And why with people like Nott?"

"He really needs some practice," I assert. "And what harm can it do to spur people like him on to greater things?"

"What are you training them for?"

"I was honestly on the verge of telling you about it."

"You weren't, but never mind – I want to practise with you, too," she says. "Slytherin can't possibly be ahead of Ravenclaw."

"Too late," Elliott chortles. "We'll make you look as stupid in duels as we do in Quidditch."

Leonora laughs out loud. "Indirect praise for your nemesis Winky Crockett?"

"You're right, sweetie," Elliott finds, playfully affected. "All forget what I just said."