Chapter Text

in which it takes a thief to catch a thief

Portree, Scotland, Summer 1881

“That one isn’t yours, is she?”

            “Was it really that obvious?” the man on the sofa chuckles. “Nae, she may not look anything special, but she stands out among us ginger folk. Not that me bairns notice, children are beautifully unassumin’ like that. What did you say your name was?”

            “I didn’t.”

            “Well, never ye mind. We get odd folk like you round here pretty often.”

            “Is that so?”

            “That’s right. Lora, take yer sisters and yer brother upstairs now, will ye? There’s a good lass. Now, as for you stranger,” the man says, leaning back and tapping the tips of his fingers together. “I’ll be honest with ye, I don’t like the looks of ye. So yes, we get plenty of odd folk like you round here, asking questions about her, wanting ter know if she’s an odd child, sometimes claiming to be relatives. Ye might’ve thought I was unassuming, too, but that’s where yer wrong. And she may be a changeling, but she’s our changeling. If ye want to do her harm, you’ll have ter come through me first.”
            “Perhaps I will, if you would really endanger your own children for this girl’s sake. Perhaps you should reconsider. After all, she does not really belong here.”

            “Don’ be absurd,” the man’s wife pipes in, from where she is rocking her smallest babe by the fireplace. “My Franklin’s the best shot round these parts. She’s just as much our bairn as the ones I ha’ birthed.”

            “You wouldn’t live to regret it. But fortunately for you, I am not here for the girl. I only wondered if your neighbors ever gave you a journal for safekeeping before their… unfortunate demise.”

            “Journal?” The man squints suspiciously. “Nae, I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”

            “Are you absolutely certain?”

            “Indeed I am. I wouldn’t play with me bairns’ lives over some journal. Now, I think you had best be going, stranger.”

Jung-Soon Tae

            “Rosalinde, if you ever call yourself useless again, I’ll hex you,” Black swears. “This is exactly why we need you here. This is bloody genius.”

            Rosalinde flushes, but just says, “We don’t have much time. My contact can’t stay in Hogsmeade for long, for fear of being spotted, but I’ve arranged a meeting with him in the Hog’s Head.”

            “I just need to change clothes really fast,” Kitty says. “I don’t want to attract too much attention.”

            She’s wearing a gorgeous pink dress with lace embroidered with roses, much more elaborate than her usual evening dress. I wonder what the occasion was, but Rosalinde says, “I’m sorry Kitty, but there isn’t time.”

            “I need to get my hat,” Black says.

            “She just said there isn’t time. It’s not that big of a deal,” I protest. “It’s just the Hog’s Head.”

            “I’m not leaving the castle without my hat,” she stiffly repeats, turning on her heel and marching out of the room. “I’ll meet you at the front gates.”

            “Oh, come on!”

            Rosalinde bites her lip. “Tae, her family is really, really strict about that kind of thing. She’d be in a lot of trouble if it got back to her father.”

            “That’s stupid. How is getting a lecture from a greasy goatee worse than risking missing our window?”

            “I don’t think it would just be a lecture, Tae,” Professor Fig says quietly. “Why don’t you three head down to the front gates? She’ll be quick.”

            “You’re not coming?” Kitty asks.

            “Unfortunately, I have a class to teach.”

            Professor Fig’s fourth-year students eye us curiously as we pass through his classroom on the way out. Black meets us at the front gate with a well-decorated hat. I hope that was worth it.

            “Can you tell us more about your contact, Rosalinde?” she asks.

            Rosalinde nods. “He’s friends with Sirona Ryan, the barkeeper of the Three Broomsticks. She connected us a few years back, and we’ve been friends ever since. I ran into him in Hogsmeade today, we had a conversation, and I discovered that he wants to stop Ranrok just as much as we do. His name is Lodgok.”

            “A goblin,” Black says.

            “Yes,” Rosalinde confirms.

            “You should probably try to avoid saying too much, Kitty, in case you accidentally offend him,” Black says.

            “Hey, Kitty’s not the one who goes around offending people,” I protest. “Last time I checked, that was you.”

            Black rolls her eyes. “I know every single way you can possibly offend a goblin, which is the surest way to avoid doing so. I’d have to be trying to offend him.”

            “She’s right, I don’t know very much about goblins,” Kitty says amiably. “And I do have a habit of accidental rudeness. I’ll let you lot handle it.”

            “Well, Rosalinde is going to do the most talking, since she already has a connection with this goblin,” Black says.

            We arrive at the Hog’s head and spot the goblin sitting in a shadowy corner. As discreetly as we can, the four of us squeeze into a booth to join him. Rosalinde quietly greets him, murmuring, “Good evening, Lodgok.”

            He has crooked features, pointed ears, and sharp teeth like most goblins, but there’s a softness in his eyes that I like. He glances around at all of us, then, looks directly at Kitty, and says, “You’re the student he’s after.”

            “I- I am,” Kitty replies, startled.

            “We need to know what he and his loyalists are up to, so we can stay a step ahead,” Rosalinde says.

            “Let’s say I did know,” Lodgok replies. “Why should I trust you?”

            “Sirona trusts me,” Rosalinde replies. “And we both know our interests are aligned.”

            “I trust you enough, Miss Peverell. But I do not know these two. And what about you, Miss Black? Your family has caused plenty of suffering for my kind. How am I to know that I will be treated fairly in this arrangement?”

            Great, I think. She didn’t even have to say anything, her presence alone was enough to offend him. Me too, Lodgok, me too. But Black just smiles coolly, replying, “You and I both know this rebellion would never have started if goblinkind was treated with the respect they deserve. Unlike the rest of my family, I would like to see that change.”

            “Well said,” Lodgok replies. “That is no excuse for Ranrok’s deeds, but it is certainly why he has found so many willing to take up his cause. I know of something that may help us both- a way to get Ranrok to confide his plans to me.”

            “We’re listening.”

            “Years ago, a heinous witch stole a sacred goblin relic. Rumor has it that it now rests in her sarcophagus, in a tomb accessible only by wizardkind. Ranrok and I had a… a falling out, a while back. The relic could well repair the chasm between us.”

            “Very well then. We shall retrieve the relic, and you promise to share Ranrok’s plans with us?” Rosalinde asks

            “We will have to trust each other; I, that you will not abscond with the relic, and you, that I will share what I learn. The witch’s tomb is not far from here. I will show you the way, and then you can gather what supplies you need before going inside.”

                 Black casts a charm around our group to make us less noticeable as we leave the Hog’s Head and slip through an alleyway toward the hills surrounding the Hogsmeade area. We follow Lodgok up a grassy slope, and Rosalinde asks, “What precisely is this relic we’re to retrieve?”

            “A valuable heirloom known as the helmet of Urtkot,” Lodgok explains. “The witch considered herself a collector, and purchased the helmet as trinket! She cared not what pain she caused the goblins.”

            “Goblins believe that the rightful owner of any object is its maker, not its purchaser,” Rosalinde explains, for Kitty’s sake. “Wizardkind sees things differently, so it is a wonder we ever get along, but my Grandfather believed it was important to respect goblin traditions. In his will, he instructed several goblin-crafted items to be returned to their makers.”           

            “The differences between our kind are myriad, but not always insurmountable,” Lodgok agrees, smiling. “Which is why I find myself traveling with you today. Here it is- the witch’s tomb.”

            “Dreadful looking place,” Kitty comments, shuddering.

            “Well, I wish you luck retrieving the helmet. As wand-carriers, you should have an advantage. I will be in a private room in the Three Broomsticks, ask simply Sirona Ryan for your mutual friend. Before I leave you, do you have any questions?”

            “It seems that Ranrok and Rookwood are working together, do you have any idea why that might be?” I ask.

            “I have heard this: when the dark hearted conspire, they seldom make their full intentions clear to each other. I can only speculate, but I imagine that their alliance is uneasy and quite fragile. Let us hope ours is less so.”

            “Thank you, Lodgok. We’ll come find you when we have the helmet,” Rosalinde promises. “Alright, we should head back to the castle to change before meeting up here and going in. We can all apparate back to the front gate, at least.”

            Black takes Kitty’s arm and we all apparate as close as we can to the castle. Heading back inside, I tell Kitty, “I actually have an outfit ready for you, if you’d like to wear it.”

            “Oh! I’d love to!”

            She follows me down and waits outside the Hufflepuff common room entrance while I get it and retrieve what I’ve made for her- a light grey patterned blouse, a loose skirt that should allow good mobility, a protective corset made of thick leather with an outer layer of pink wool for style and comfort, and a white jacket.

            “Tae! It’s amazing!” she says, delighted. “It’s so fashionable, and the skirt looks really comfortable. It should be plenty modest with my quidditch boots.”

            “I thought so, too,” I reply, pleased. “I’m also working on-”

            “Kitty! I’ve been looking for you.”

            “Sebastian!” Kitty squeals, as Sallow comes around the corner. “How was class?”

            “It was good, but Regina wasn’t even there. She totally ditched. I could have ditched, too, and hung out with you,” he says, pulling her into a hug.

            “Actually… I ended up being busy too,” She admits sheepishly.

            “Wait a minute,” he says, connecting the dots. “You went somewhere with her, didn’t you?”

            “Maybe…”

            “One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me what you found in the library. Anyways, do you want to play gobstones? Or chess maybe? Or we can do homework, I’m up for anything.”

            “I kind of have to go somewhere,” Kitty tells him, sounding regretful.

            “I see. I don’t suppose there’s any chance I can come with you?” he sighs. “Well, you better stay safe. That looks like the kind of thing you’d wear to get into danger.”
            “In and out of danger, hopefully,” I add, grinning.

            “Tae made this,” Kitty tells him.

            “Neat,” Sallow replies, acknowledging my presence for a split second before turning his focus back to Kitty. “I bet you’ll look really cute in it. But you had better come back safely.”

“Don’t worry, Bash, between Tae and Regina, I’ll be perfectly safe. Right, Tae?”

“That’s right.”

            He puts his arm around her as they walk off toward their own common room. They must be going out together now. I hadn’t heard about it yet, but I’m also not surprised. Everyone could tell it was going to happen sooner or later.

            I head up to my dormitory and change into a thick pair of woolen trousers and black vest, grab my outdoor coat and hat, and head back to the witch’s tomb to meet up with my friends- Well, they’re not all my friends. Rosalinde and Kitty are. What do I call our little group?

            I’m the first to arrive at the witch’s tomb, then Rosalinde, then Black. Rosalinde is still in all mourning, and Black, unfortunately, looks spectacular as usual. Apparently she has plenty of sturdy duelling clothes along with all her evening gowns. She’s dressed in dark grey and teal, with a wool cape and pointed hat. She eyes Kitty, who is once again the only one without a hat, and says, “At least you’re not wearing trousers.”

            Kitty just grins. “Shall we go inside?”

Chapter Text

in which anything that can go wrong, will go wrong

Jung-Soon Tae

            The entrance to the witches’ tomb is sealed by a brass door with a strange mechanism that Rosalinde fortunately recognizes. In the center there are three indents for enchanted moths to land in, and the mechanism is activated when all three moths are present, but one is missing, so the mechanism is keeping the entrance sealed shut.

            “They use the same enchanted moths on these puzzles back at the castle. We should be able to find the third one using lumos,” Rosalinde explains.

            Kitty is the one to find the missing moth and lure it to the door. She’s in very high spirits, even more so than normal, and it’s contagious. It’s harder to feel on edge, Rosalinde seems less nervous, and even Black has been less snarky.

            We make our way down the stone chamber, lighting old torches in rusted sconces along the way. The cobbled floor is overgrown with clumps of grass and moss as well as some horklumps that the others stop to collect for potions. This time, Black brought two bottomless bags- one for stashing everything we find, and the other as a sort of emergency pack, with a variety of potions, salves, and tonics, an assortment of objects that might come in handy, and, of course, four broomsticks in case we come across any more dangerous chasms.

            “This is quite the tomb,” Kitty notes. “We’ve already come across a whole coffin that wasn’t even the witch’s, and it goes even deeper.”

            “It is very, very old,” Rosalinde explains, looking around. “It was a common practice to bury the dead in cairns up until about four thousand years ago. This seems to be some sort of communal cairn, where they buried lots of bodies, but the witch’s body likely has a central chamber dedicated to her and her treasures.”

            “There are other bodies buried here?” Black asks, her tone suddenly sharp.

            “Indeed. That’s what those slots in the walls are for.”

            “Then why are they empty?”

            “Er… they likely rotted away over time, especially if it’s been several thousand years,” Rosalinde mumbles.

            “Let us hope that is the case,” Black replies, looking grim.

            “Which way are we going?” Kitty asks, as the tunnel splits in multiple directions.

            “If it was built traditionally, the central chamber ought to be this way,” Rosalinde decides. She starts down one of the passageways, but Black pushes in front of her.

            “Hey- let Rosalinde take the lead if she wants to,” I protest, following after them. Black ignores me, but Rosalinde   quietly says, “It’s alright, the front is the most dangerous position anyways.”

            “Shh! Do you hear that?” Black asks impatiently, drawing her wand.

            I hear it. There’s a strange shuffling sound, and the noise of raspy breathing. I start to creep forward, but Black thrusts her arm out, hissing, “Stay behind me.”

            Kitty gags. “Whatever it is, it smells awful.”

            We edge around the corner, the distant torchlight casting odd shadows on what feels like a wider chamber. I squint in the darkness, trying to locate the source of the strange noises, then Kitty lights her wand, revealing something horrifying.

            At least a dozen partially rotten skeletons- no, it would be better if they were skeletons, these beings still have a thin layer of wrinkled, bloody flesh and sinew holding their smelly bodies together, with grisly lumps of skin hanging off their bones and stringy hair dangling from patches on their skulls. A dozen pale eyes in saggy sockets gaze at us with empty expressions. Then they lurch forward.

            “Get back, all of you!” Black snarls. “Pestis incendium!”

            Kitty and Rosalinde and I make a mad dash back toward the chamber we came from as a roaring blaze fills the chamber with heat. That was not a good idea- last time, she could barely control it, and the chamber was a lot larger- there’s no way she’ll be able to manage it in this small space. I have to go back and get her out of there! “You two stick together,” I shout, over the roar of the flames. “Don’t wait for us if the flames get out of control!”

            Kitty nods, wide-eyed, as I turn and rush back around the corner, eyes watering in the smoke, my nostrils full of the smell of burning flesh, and find Black wrestling her fire-serpent into the dust.

            “I’ve been practicing,” she breathes, massaging her neck. “in case something like this happened.”

            We rejoin Kitty and Rosalinde, and Black explains what happened. “Inferi. Extremely dangerous, and fire is their only vulnerability. The witch must have created them to protect the tomb.”

            “So she was- she was a dark witch?” Kitty stammers.

 Black nods. “Stay behind me in case there are any more. Their bite or scratch can be fatal if not treated properly.”

“So if one of us gets bitten or scratched, we immediately leave and go to Nurse Blainey?” Kitty suggests.

“I doubt Nurse Blainey knows how to treat inferi wounds,” Black replies. “Inferi are really rare, and really dark. We would have to go to someone who was more familiar with that level of dark magic. I only know of one such person, and they… they would only be willing to treat a pureblood, so Jung, you should probably stay in the back.”

“I’m used to dealing with inferi, actually,” I reluctantly admit. “When I was a kid in Korea… the muggles were fighting over territory. Muggle wars are brutal. There were so many dead bodies… you couldn’t go out after dark without running into…”

            “That’s horrible,” Kitty gasps, hand flying to her mouth. “You mean- those things- they were just… everywhere?”

            I nod, looking away. I should appreciate the empathy, I know, but it makes me a little uncomfortable.

            “In that case, you can stay in the front with me,” Black decides, waving me over with her hand. “Let’s move carefully, and try to stay quiet so we can hear them coming. Which way, Rosalinde?”

            “It should be this way again.”

            Rosalinde navigates us through the shadowy passageways, curving sharply and always sloping downwards, until finally, we reach a wide stone chamber with carvings on the walls and an ornate stone casket at the far end of the chamber.

            “This is the central chamber- the helm should be in here somewhere,” Rosalinde says, looking relieved.

            “Something is not right,” Black says, with a sharp glance around. “It’s far too empty. And look at those tipped-over pots… empty as well. Someone has already been here and taken everything.”

            “So we’re too late?” Kitty cries, with an indignant huff. “All that was for nothing?”

            “Wait, look,” I interject, “There’s a- a body.”

            “An inferi?” Kitty squeaks, nervously scrambling back.

            “No, just a dead body, and it looks rather fresh. Looks like there were multiple looters, and they left this one behind.” Black examines a wide tear in the dead man’s sleeve, grimacing at the oozing gash underneath. “Inferi wound. And here’s a signet ring, good, we can identify him. I don’t recognize this symbol. Rosalinde?”

            Rosalinde squints at it, then calls me over, saying, “Tae, I think this fits Natty’s description of the Ashwinder’s mark.”

            “Let me see. Yeah, it totally does. Great…” I mutter, shaking my head.

            “What is it?” Black asks, crossing her arms impatiently.

            “The Ashwinders. Victor Rookwood’s lot. They have a camp near here, Natty and I were scouting it out.”

            “We’re going to have to take it from them,” Black decides. “Rookwood’s lot… so we’ll be fighting other witches and wizards? Well… that’ll be different than anything we’ve faced so far.”

            “I’m sure we can handle it,” Kitty says confidently. “Especially you, Regina. Didn’t you win that international duelling competition?”

            “I did,” she replies, furrowing her brow, “But it’s still different. My opponents weren’t aiming to kill. These Ashwinders might be. If I know anything about Rookwood, he’ll prefer to keep his operation as clean as possible, so it’s unlikely. But still, there are no rules. And it’s more… more complicated, with all four of us.” She shrugs, then nods firmly, as if she’s made up her mind about something. “Very well. Regardless of whether or not they aim to kill, we do not. However, spells like stupefy or petrificus totalus are less effective against larger groups of wand-carriers, since they can easily be reversed. Fortunately, there is a spell that is neither fatal nor easily reversed, and very handy for completely incapacitating your foes. I invented it last year in Spellcrafting, and I call it the Bone-Jelly jinx. Basically, it removes one hundred and twenty-six of the victim’s bones. There is no countercurse yet. They’ll have to spend about a week in Saint Mungo’s regrowing them.”

            “Which bones? The limbs?” Rosalinde asks. “There are a hundred and twenty-six bones in the limbs.”

            “Correct. They’ll still have their skull, spine, rib cage, and other vital bones, but they will not be able to use their arms or their legs at all.”

            “That’s vile,” I shudder. “Has this spell been tested, then?”

            “Yes.”

            “On who?”

            “On someone who deserved it.”

            “Yeah, but what does that mean?”

            Black rolls her eyes. “It means Marvolo Gaunt. Are you happy now?”

             “Actually, yes. He was here in our first year,” I recall, shuddering again. “He was far worse than you ever were.” Come to think of it, Black wasn’t actually that bad until third year.

            Black purses her lips, and primly replies, “Yes, well, that is because he actually enjoys causing other people pain. Now focus- we need to hurry so we can track down the Ashwinders. The incantation is Brackium Emendo- watch where you’re pointing! Like I said, there’s no countercurse, so if you accidently hit one of us-”

            “Sorry,” Kitty says, hastily pointing her wand toward the opposite wall and practicing the wand motion Black showed us.

            We make our way out of the witch’s tomb without any further incident and start in the direction of the nearby Ashwinder camp. It’s a bit of a walk, but luckily, that’s something you get used to, living in Hogwarts castle. But at least the castle isn’t humid and full of bugs like the forest is.

            “We’re nearly there,” I hiss, “So mind your step, that way they won’t hear us coming.”    

            But even if any of us had stepped on a branch or spoken too loud, I doubt the Ashwinders would have heard it, with the racket they’re making. The commotion gets louder as we draw nearer, until finally, I realize that they’re tussling with a troll, about the same size as the ones we fought in Hogsmeade.

            “This works out for us,” Black hisses. “Do your best to leave the troll alone until after we’ve taken out the Ashwinders. Chaos is ideal. Everyone ready? Go!”

            We charge out from the underbrush, catching the Ashwinders by surprise, and manage to take out three of them with the bone-jelly jinx before the rest of them recover. Within moments, curses are flying, and the troll is still rampaging. I have to jump aside to dodge an Ashwinder that bellows, “Expulso!” His curse hits a tree with a great shuddering crack! and bark goes flying.

            “Brackium emendo!”

            The Ashwinder tumbles over backwards, arms and legs flopping like some sort of strange sea creature. It’s somehow both horrifying and satisfying. Black is sticking with Rosalinde, so I do my best to stay near Kitty and watch her back as the troll comes after us.

            “Just like Hogsmeade,” she chirps, grinning in the midst of the chaos. “Too bad Sebastian isn’t here.”

            I only grunt in reply, focusing on wearing down the brutish beast. Black’s curse doesn’t work on its thick hide, so I resort to pelting it with barrels and the largest stones I can summon. Kitty seems to have developed an affinity for the blasting curse. Together, we manage to take it down by the time Black and Rosalinde have incapacitated the rest of the Ashwinders.

            “They’ll have a lot of explaining to do in Saint Mungo’s,” Black says, satisfied. “I found the helmet. We better wipe their memories of it, since Ranrok and Rookwood are working together- it would be odd if they knew we stole the helm, and then Lodgok showed up with it.”

            “Good thinking,” Kitty says. “Can we use those broomsticks to get back to Hogsmeade? I don’t fancy walking all the way back in the dark.”

            It was late enough when we set off from the castle, but now the sun has almost fully set, and the forest is quite dark. Rosalinde seems reluctant, but we all agree to use the broomsticks. The stars are visible on the horizon by the time we land in Hogsmeade square, where all the street-lamps have been lit. Sirona Ryan is drying mugs with a dish-towel behind the counter when we walk into the Three Broomsticks.

            Black marches straight up to the counter. “We need to see our mutual friend.”

            “Mutual friend, eh?” Sirona eyes us. “I must say, this is quite the group.”

            “Yes, we’re aware,” Black says impatiently. “Is he still here? It’s urgent.”

            “Alright, then,” Sirona chuckles. “Right this way.”

            She takes us to a small upstairs room, where Lodgok is waiting. When he sees the helmet, his whole face lights up.

            “It shines more brightly even than I imagined! The etchings, the contour… remarkable,” he sighs, examining it.

            “It is stunning. I see why you wanted it back,” Rosalinde agrees. “By the time we got to the witches’ tomb, it had been stolen, but we managed to track the thieves and recover it.”

            “You did them a service, then. I know many a goblin who would have killed for this.”

            “I’m glad we’ll be rid of it, then,” Black says.

            “I shall take this to Ranrok immediately. It should earn his trust, perhaps even distract him from his search…”

            “His search?” I ask.

            Lodgok hesitates. “It- it is merely an inkling. I shall tell you when I know more. The point is, you have impressed me greatly, friends. I am glad I put my trust in you. We shall speak again soon, but for now, it is best to keep our arrangement quiet.”

            “Of course,” Black agrees. “You have the more dangerous task ahead of you. I wish you luck. Now, it is getting late- we need to head back to the castle.”

Chapter Text

in which any port will do in a storm

Rosalinde Iolanthe Peverell

“Shh… we’re getting really close,” Poppy whispers, carefully pulling back a branch. “Junius, you should go ahead and wait here. Unicorns are less trusting of boys.”

“How did you find this unicorn?” Florence whispers.

“Over the summer, one of my Gran’s friends introduced us. We’ll take turns checking up on her, but try to be discreet. We don’t want to accidentally lead the poachers to her.”

“What is her name?” Natsai asks.

“Hazel- oh, there she is!”

“She’s beautiful.”

I let Florence, Tae, and Natsai pet her first before I start gently brushing her mane while Poppy feeds her a handful of knotgrass. She really is the most beautiful creature, with her long, silvery hair, spotless white coat, and shiny hooves. She smells like… like… I can’t quite place it, but it’s something magical.

            “Right,” Poppy says, brushing against my arm. “We had better get Junius, then head to the hippogriff den. It’s a little ways west of here.”

            Walking through the forest makes me a little nervous, but there’s enough of us that we could probably handle any situation that arises. I’ve seen Poppy’s prowess plenty of times, and Tae’s as well, now, too, and their friends get good marks in Hecat’s class. Still, the forest seems strangely quiet. Usually you can hear birds fluttering among the trees, the rustle of squirrels and other creatures in the underbrush, a mixture of bug song, but now there’s just silence, occasionally broken by this odd, high-pitched screech off in the distance. As we approach the hippogriff den, the noise gets louder, a feeling of uneasiness growing in my stomach.

            “NO!” Poppy shrieks, rushing forward into the clearing. “Stormbeak!”

            I rush after her as she falls to her knees beside what looks like a little pile of matted, bloodstained feathers. The hippogriff cub lets out another pained screech, her breath coming in great rasps. My insides turn sour at the sight of her mangled wing.

            “Poachers were here,” Natsai tells us. “There were two larger Hippogriffs here. They were dragged off, but it looks like they put up a fight.”

            “H-Highwing and her- and her mate, Caligo,” Poppy chokes, her shoulders shaking.  

            “We’ll track them down and rescue them,” Tae promises. “You get help for the cub.”

            “We’ll get her back to the castle.” I squeeze Poppy’s arm, then conjure a cub-shaped stretcher as Tae, Natsai, Junius, and Florence rush off, following the Poacher’s tracks. “Professor Howin will be able to help her, surely.”

            Poppy nods, wiping her eyes determinedly. I take a vial of Wiggenweld potion and carefully dribble it down the cub’s throat, hoping it will ease her pain. We carefully lift her onto the stretcher and take her back to the castle.

             Professor Howin examines poor Stormbeak with a guarded expression. “You did what you- you did well, girls. I will tend to her from here.”

            My chest aches as we turn and walk away. I could tell that Professor Howin didn’t want to say that the only thing we could do for Stormbeak now was to put her out of her misery. Poppy knows it too. I put my arm around her as she whispers, “There has to be something more we can do to keep them safe. Patrolling the forests isn’t enough. A- a sanctuary, of some sorts… but we can’t fit them all on the grounds, if it was even allowed…”

            “What about the room of requirement?” I ask, thinking hard. “It can become anything you need it to be. I wonder if it could become a sort of animal sanctuary.”

            “That’s brilliant,” Poppy replies, sniffling and wiping a lingering tear from her cheek. “But how would we get the creatures into the castle? And I don’t know where the room is, do you?”

            “One problem at a time, I suppose. Professor Weasley would probably give us permission to bring them through a few at a time. And I don’t know where the room is either, but I think I know someone who does.”  

            We head out to the Quidditch Pitch, where a dozen or so of the Slytherins are doing a Quidditch scrimmage, with five players each side. After a minute or so of frantic waving, Kitty spots us on the field and signals for a pause, flying down to greet us.

            “Afternoon, Rosalinde, Miss Sweeting.”

            “Afternoon, Kitty. I was wondering if I could ask you about something?”

            “Go ahead.”

            “Do you remember when we were trying to pick a place to study, before we decided on that empty classroom, you were talking about the place where Regina took you to study? Was that the Room of Requirement?”

            “What’s the Room of Requirement?” Kitty asks. “Oh, wait, I’ve read about that- it’s that room that turns into whatever you need it to be. She didn’t say, but yeah, I guess it could have been.”

            “Do you think you could show us where it is?”

            “Sure. Miss Bulstrode! Take my spot until I get back, will you?”

            Sebastian Sallow lands next to her, asking, “Where are you going?”

            “I’m showing them this place Regina showed me. Avery! Guard the goalposts til we get back, alright?”

            She leads us up toward the astronomy tower to a blank stretch of wall across from that tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy and his woeful attempt to train trolls for the ballet. “Er… the entrance usually appears here. I’m not sure how, though.”
            “You’re supposed to walk in front of it,” I recall. “At least, that’s what I’ve read.”

            “Let’s see it, then. Oh, Merlin, is that the bell? Is it eleven already? Sebastian, we need to go and change. Sorry, Rosalinde! We’re going to Feldcroft to have lunch with his uncle and his sister.”

            “Well, have a lovely time. And thank you- it looks like the entrance is appearing already.”

            As Kitty and Sallow hurry off around the corner, Poppy and I pull open the fine wooden door that just appeared in the wall. The inside is a cozy space with wood-paneled walls covered in posters, canvases, diagrams, and portraits. In the center is a large table covered in stacks of books and sheets of parchment.  “It looks like a nice study space,” I say, my heart sinking, “But not exactly a nice place for beasts.”

            “Hang on, what’s that?” Poppy asks, pointing at a glass door on the back wall.

            “It looks like a greenhouse.”

            We make our way around the big table, pull the glass door open, and both gasp. If I didn’t know any better, I would think I was standing in the middle of a large field, a warm breeze blowing through my hair and a blue sky overhead. To the left is a rolling hill and in the distance is a river, and beyond that, a wooded vale.

            “It’s perfect,” Poppy breathes, turning around and around. “But what- what is it?”

            “A Vivarium. I’ve read about these! But they’re so difficult to create, they’re massively complicated. My guess is that the river serves as a boundary and everything beyond that is an illusion to make the space feel larger. But the beasts will be happy here.”

            “Oh, Rosy, I’m so happy I could- I mean, let’s go ask Professor Weasley permission to bring them through the castle.”

            When we arrive at Professor Weasley’s office, however, Headmaster Black is already there. He gives us a rather forbidding glare as Poppy presents her request. “Absolutely not,” he immediately replies. “I won’t have a bunch of beasts mucking up the castle, disrupting people’s studies. It would be utter chaos.”

            “But, Headmaster-”

`            “That is my final answer! They belong in the forest, and in the forest they shall stay.”

            “I’m so sorry, ladies,” Professor Weasley murmurs, as the headmaster exits. “For what it’s worth, I thought it was a wonderful idea.”

            “We’ll find a discreet way to do it,” Poppy says determinedly.

            “Well, I must ask you not to discuss it in front of me, as I would be obliged to report it,” Professor Weasley says. “But do let me know if you need any help keeping him busy.”

Chapter Text

in which blood is thicker than water

Catherine Harris

            “Well, this is Feldcroft,” Sebastian says, gesturing to the little hamlet before us. “It’s not what it used to be. No one has really felt safe here since Ranrok’s loyalists took a peculiar interest in that castle over there- Rookwood Castle. Uncle Solomon is a former auror, but he refuses to look into it, even though Anne was cursed by one of them- possibly with a wand, no less.”

            “But that’s illegal- Oh, Sebastian…”

            He sighs. “That’s why I’ve been on the hunt for answers. The reason no one’s been able to find a cure for Anne is because no one knows what really happened to her. But hopefully a surprise visit will cheer her up.”

            “Yeah. Wait- A surprise visit? I thought you told them we were coming!”

            “Well, I told them I’m coming. You’re the surprise.”

            “Sebastian!”

            “Come on, it’ll be great,” he promises, “just be yourself and I’m sure they’ll like you. How could they not?”

            “I don’t know, what if your uncle doesn’t approve of me?”

            “Just tell him Regina likes you. He trusts her judgement more than mine.”

            “Regina knows your uncle?”

            “Yeah, she and Ominis come here for Christmas every year. But today isn’t about them, it’s about you. And I told my uncle I’d be on my best behavior, so hopefully you won’t have to witness anything unpleasant.” He pauses in front of the door of a cozy-looking little cottage. “Here we are. My sister should be just inside.”

            He pushes the door open and pulls me inside. The cottage is all one room with a thatched roof, wooden floor, and stone brick walls. There’s a little nook with a window and a cookstove, and a round table with five chairs by a stone fireplace. A girl with tawny brown hair pulled into a low bun is sitting at the table with her back to us. Sebastian quietly approaches her, then reaches down and pokes her sides, playfully calling, “Aha!”

            “Sebastian!” she yelps, jumping up. “Where did you…” she trails off, examining him curiously. “Well, don’t you look fancy. What’s this all about?”

            “Kitty, this is my sister, Anne,” Sebastian says, stepping aside so we can see each other properly.

            “Hi,” I say, feeling suddenly shy.

            “Kitty? You must be the new fifth year Regina wrote to me about. But… wait…”

            “Now, what’s this all about?” says a gruff voice from off to the left. I turn and see a stocky, bearded man in a striped shirt emerge from behind the curtained-off area, walking with a slight limp.

            “And this is my Uncle Solomon,” Sebastian says. “Anne, Uncle Solomon, this is Kitty. She’s the new fifth-year, and we’re going out together.”

            “Sebastian!” Anne squeals. “You sly dog, you didn’t say a thing!”

            “You don’t talk about me?” I ask him, making a sad face. “I shall never recover.”

            “Oh, please, it’s not that I didn’t want to. I knew she’d be onto me the second I said a thing,” he protests, pulling back a chair for me.

            “I hope this means you’re going to take your studies more seriously,” Mr. Sallow grunts.

            Sebastian just nods. I feel a little awkward, but Anne takes my arm and urges me to sit down, saying “I may not have heard anything from him, but Regina had some rather nice things to say about you.”

            “Did she now?” I ask, feeling pleased.

            “Oh, yes. It was all very analytical of course, you know how she is- said you were “adaptable” and such- but I take it you must have a very good sense of humor?”

            “I certainly hope so,” I giggle. “And I’m thrilled to meet you, too. I’ve only heard the most wonderful things about you.”

            “Well, then, you must be wondering how I could possibly be related to such a terror,” Anne teases. “I can hardly believe it myself, we don’t look anything alike. Right, Sebastian?”

            “No, not at all,” he replies mildly, grinning.

            I laugh. They have the same tawny hair, freckled complexion, and warm brown eyes. I like her a great deal already. “So, how did the two of you meet?” Anne asks, starting to pour the tea.

            “We met in the Slytherin common room, on my first day,” I tell her, sharing a smile with Sebastian.

            “Oh, the common room! I adored teasing first-years about spotting mermaids through the window,” Anne reminisces.

            “Don’t worry, we’re still keeping that tradition alive,” Sebastian tells her. “So, later that day, at the end of Advanced Magical Theory, Fig asked me if I could do him a favor since I didn’t have any class the next period-” he ignores his Uncle’s grunt of disapproval and continues- “and go to Hecat’s class and ask her if he could borrow this diagram for his next class. So I went in there just in time to see Kitty here wipe the floor with Imelda Reyes and I knew there was something special about her.”

            “I wish I could have seen that,” Anne laughs. “Regina told me about Quidditch being canceled, I suppose Imelda’s still pretty fussed about it?”

            “Yeah, but we’re training hard so we can convince the Headmaster to have it next year,” I say, stirring my tea.

            “She beat Imelda at her own races and told her she had a personality problem,” Sebastian brags, poking my shoulder.

            “Do you like Quidditch, then?” Anne asks.

            “I do. I’d love to be a chaser, but there’s a lot of strong potentials there that have a lot more experience than me, so I’ve got to get in a lot of practice this year.”

            “Practice helps, but you are sort of a natural,” Sebastian says.

            “Could be in my blood, for all I know.”  

We talk about Quidditch for a while, and then Anne says, “I do miss Hogwarts, but I wouldn’t mind being in Feldcroft if it wasn’t so dreary now.”

            “The village seemed pretty empty,” Sebastian agrees. I can feel the tension in the air as he asks his uncle, “The ministry still hasn’t sent anyone to investigate the goblins?”

            “That’s not for you to worry about, boy,” Mr. Sallow sharply replies. “You’ve some tests coming up, don’t you? You had better be studying.”

            “I am,” Sebastian replies, then jokingly says, “My schedule is manageable, if nothing else.”

            “Manageable,” Mr. Sallow snorts. “You aren’t going to graduate with nearly enough N.E.W.T.s to do anything worthwhile or sustainable. Have you thought about that?”

            I slip my arm through his under the table as he takes a deep breath. “Yes,” he finally replies. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking a lot more lately. I’ve been talking to my friends and they helped me come up with a plan. I’m going to talk to the Headmaster about repeating sixth and seventh year. I did fine on my O.W.L.s, so if he approves, I’ll have two more years to take more advanced classes. That way, I can get all the N.E.W.T.s I need to be a- to be a healer, at Saint Mungo’s.”

            “A healer,” Mr. Sallow muses, “Now that’s a path with longevity.”

            “And… if there is a cure,” Sebastian says, very carefully, “I could have a better chance of finding it, and help other people on the way.”

            “There is no cure,” Mr. Sallow says, sounding very weary, “but I’m glad you’ve decided on a different approach. Dark magic is dangerous. You don’t know how many people- good, wise people- have been led astray. I was never as concerned with your desire to find a cure as I was with the fact that you were looking to the dark arts for answers.”

            “I’m sorry for- for straining things,” Sebastian says. “And dark magic isn’t the cure, I know, but if we at least knew what type of dark magic cursed Anne might at least give us a better idea on-”

            “Sebastian,” Anne warns, looking nervously at their Uncle.

            “That could be. There’s a lot we don’t know. But at the very least, wait until you’re older and wiser to do any research. Like I’ve said, the dark arts have lead many good, wise people astray. It is not something to play around with. I want you to understand that.”

            “Very well then,” Sebastian agrees. “I’ll wait.”

            The mood shifts. The whole room seems to brighten as the tension slips away. Anne and Mr. Sallow both start asking me questions about how I like Hogwarts and what I’m interested in. Eventually, we finish our lunch, and Sebastian, Anne, and I play gobstones while Mr. Sallow cleans up. I just met them, and I haven’t known him for very long, but I can tell that today was a big day for all of them. I’m proud of Sebastian. It takes a lot to admit when you were wrong, and he did a really good job of staying calm all the while. And his uncle may not have the best approach, but I think he genuinely cares about his nephew.

             Just before we leave, Sebastian asks Anne if they can speak privately for a few minutes. I remember him saying that he wanted to apologize specifically to her, so I accept Mr. Sallow’s offer to show me the tomato garden. I follow him outside, feeling a little awkward, but very hopeful.

            “Thank you for lunch, Mr. Sallow.”
            “You can call me Uncle Solomon, like his friends do,” he replies, sounding a little less gruff than before. “Ominis and Regina. He’s got good friends. I’ve always been grateful for that.” He clears his throat, then adds, “I want to thank you. I’ve not seen my nephew look as happy as he did today in a long, long time. I can’t afford to lose both of them.”

            I frown. I thought Regina said Anne was fine? He must not mean it literally, I suppose. I’m about to ask what he meant when I hear raised voices coming through the window. Uncle Solomon looks up, scowling. I can’t quite make out what’s being said, but it sounds like Sebastian is upset about something, then there’s a scream of pain. I stand there for a split second, frozen, then rush to the front door, Uncle Solomon limping behind me.

            “What happened?” he snaps, as Sebastian comes out, looking like a storm. “Where’s Anne?”

            Sebastian doesn’t reply, walking down the front steps of the house with his jaw clenched. “Did she have another one of her fits?” Uncle Solomon calls, now sounding threatening. “If you sent her into hysterics…”

            He trails off as Sebastian continues to walk away from the house without a glance backwards. “I-I’d better go,” I stammer, “Thank you again. It was so nice to meet you.”

            “Aye, you’d better go after him,” he agrees, now sounding sorrowful. “It’s a tough road he’s got to walk. There’s nothing harder for a man than not being able to do anything for someone he loves.”

            “Thank you,” I say again, feeling like there’s a hole in the pit of my stomach. I hurry after Sebastian, catching up to him and ask, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

            “I thought…”

            I wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t. After a long moment, he clears his throat, muttering, “I don’t really know what to say. I feel like everything- like everything is falling apart, and, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

            “Hey,” I say, taking his arm. “You still have plenty of time to figure things out.” When he doesn’t reply, I add, “If the headmaster does let you repeat sixth and seventh year, that means we’ll graduate at the same time.”

            “Oh, yeah, we’ll be in the same class,” he says, sounding a little more cheerful. “We can share a desk and- and pass notes, and do our homework together and things.”

            “Yeah.”

            He won’t quite meet my gaze. I catch a glimpse of the glassiness in his eyes and feel a strong sense of sorrow. I suppose he’s holding a lot of weight right now, from taking responsibility for his behavior. That’s not an easy thing to do. We don’t talk about hard things much, I don’t think either of us really like to, but I still remember the first time we did, back in the Undercroft. I felt helpless, like I wanted to do something to make him feel better, but there was nothing I could do. I have a little more liberty now than I did then. I slip my hand into his and squeeze his fingers, feeling rather bold as he gives me a smile- a real smile. “Your home is lovely,” I tell him, as he squeezes my wrist. “Would you like to show me around the village before we return to Hogwarts?”

            He nods, then clears his throat and says, “I need to show you the place where- the place where it happened.”

Chapter Text

in which the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry

Knightsbridge, London, Winter 1881

“Christmas isn’t really Christmas without Aunt Iola.”

The sisters share a nervous glance before addressing their younger cousin. “You had better watch your tongue,” Bianca advises, squeezing the girl’s shoulder. She was not quite nine, and probably did not understand the consequences of speaking out. “If Grandfather hears you…”

“But it’s outrageous to throw someone out of your family just for doing something that you don’t like!”

“Outrageous, is it?”

“Grandfather!” Elara steps in front of Bianca and Cordelia, hastily saying, “We tried to tell her-”

“Hold your tongue. You, child- come with me.”

“Are you going to punish me?” the little girl asks, throwing her chin up defiantly. “Because I can take it, I’d never disown my daughter-”

“Regina Amalthea Black! How dare you speak to your Grandfather in such a way? You will apologize right now, and then I will deal with you.”

“Stand down, Phineas. I will deal with her myself. Regina, you will follow me out to the courtyard.”

No one protests, not even the child, though her mother looks like she might like to. There was only one drawback to keeping your whole family so well in check: If there is no one strong enough to challenge you, there will be no one strong enough to take your place when you are gone. And everyone must go eventually. Only a fool would care more for his own reputation than the longevity of his family’s. A strong-willed child like this one was not a mule to be broken, but a weapon to be forged, by careful craftsmanship as much as by fire and hammer.

“Are you going to whip me? That is a muggle punishment, is it not?”

“Do not be absurd. I have brought you to this tree for a different reason. What do you notice about it?”

“It’s entirely green in the middle of December, but many trees-”

“Is it? Is it entirely green?”

“Well… except for that branch, I suppose.”

“What do you suppose we should do about it?”

“Nothing, that is your servants’ duty.”

“Well, of course, but they ought to remove it, yes? The trunk of the tree is strong, but if its branches weaken, the tree will be ruined. One bad branch can spread its corruption to the others if it is left on the tree. That is why pruning is so essential. It may be unfortunate for the lost branch, but it is better for the whole tree, is it not?”

“I suppose so.”

“You understand what I am trying to teach you, do you not?”

“I do.”

“Good. You have every right to be angry, but your cousin Cordelia is correct. Iola damaged our whole family with her selfish choice. She knew this would happen and she still chose that muggle over her family. It is for all of our good that she is removed. Impurity deserves no tolerance. It will spread if you let it, and you will curse your descendants to have dirty, diminished blood. It is my duty to look after my family’s future, Regina.”

“Very well then. So… are you not going to punish me?”

“Not this time. But you had best keep that between you and I.”

Jung-Soon Tae

            “I cannae believe they did that to a baby,” Florence pants, as we jog along through the trees. The poachers left us quite a trail of broken underbrush and hoofprints. “I won’t be holding back when I find ‘em.”

            Part of me wants to protest- these people could still be someone’s father or mother- but my blood is boiling after seeing what they did to that poor little cub. There is absolutely no justification for it. “I think we’re getting closer- we’re almost to the edge of the forest.”

            “They left us quite the trail,” Natty murmurs, pointing at all the broken branches and hoof prints. “Wait… I know where we are!”

            “What is this?” Junius asks, as we emerge from the tree line in the shadow of a dark castle wall.

            “I have been doing some investigating, to find out what Harlowe is up to,” Natty explains, as we stop to catch our breath. “I followed him to the Hog’s Head. I noticed him reading a letter. All I could see is that it was signed by and bore the seal of Victor Rookwood. That letter is the tangible proof that Officer Singer needs. It is why I followed Harlowe to this stronghold, but I could not get past the gate. It is locked. There is another way in to get in and open it, but I cannot reach it.”

             “Got it,” I reply, squinting at the castle wall. “I don’t see any guards, but we should still try to be as quiet as possible. Harlow could be here, after all.”

We use disillusionment charms, then sneak around the side of the castle wall. “Can you and Junius try to climb it?” Natty quietly asks. “I tried, but I could not find good holds. You are a little taller and have longer arms than Florence and I do. Once you get to the top, you can levitate us up.”

I nod, examining the wall, then begin to scale it, finding little crevices and holds to pull myself up on. “How are you doing that?” Junius asks, scrambling to find a grip. He slips, teeters, and decides to let go and jump down rather than fall.

“Got a lot of practice as a kid,” I grunt. “There was this building I used to climb on top of to escape these muggle boys.”

“Was that after you and your mother were separated?”

“Yes. Just before the bombings started.”

Florence makes an attempt to climb, but in the end, I have to levitate all three of them up to the top. Natty lands silently, then peeks around the corner and mutters, “Looks like no one is home. This way!”

Staying on our hands and knees, we crawl around the corner, pausing every time we hear a voice in the courtyard below, then find a gap in the stone wall and squeeze through. My shoulders are a little too wide, so I have to transform into my animagi form, and then we’re in a small room above the gatehouse. “There,” Natty whispers, pointing to the wrought-iron door on the opposite wall, through which we can see a towering wall with massive wooden doors. “That is the main keep. My guess is that we will find Harlow and the letter inside. We’ll need to be careful once we get…” she trails off at a banging sound from inside the main gate.

 “I hear them,” I say, hesitantly opening the door. We start to cross the bridge, staying by the edge of the parapet. We duck into a gap in the battlements as the main door flies open, and Theophilus Harlowe yells, “Restrain the beast!” He and two other Ashwinders back down the stairs, shooting curses at an enraged, white-feathered hippogriff.

“Highwing,” I hiss, as the majestic beast falls to its knees, defeated. Harlowe hits it with another curse, even though it’s already down. “Come on, we have to rescue her!”

Natty nods. “Very well, new plan. I will get the evidence and the rest of you get that hippogriff. Agreed?” Before I can agree or disagree, she adds, “This is our chance- go!” jumping up and dashing toward the front gate as Harlow snarls, “Get this thing back to the roof, now!”

Florence leaps up, following her across the bridge as she dashes through the rapidly closing gates. Me and Junius are a little slower on the uptake, darting toward them as Natty risks a glance back. We share a fleeting glance of horror, and then the gates close between us.

            “Florence!” Junius yells, pounding his fists on the gate.

            “Shh,” I hiss, pulling him back. “We’ll have to find another way to get to the roof and hope they stay out of trouble.” I stare up at the towering castle walls. “We’ll have to climb. We’ll both have to climb. See that balcony? I bet that’s where they’ll be keeping them.”

            Junius stares in disbelief. “That platform, way up there? But… that’s got to be fifteen meters, at least!”         

            “I know. I won’t be able to levitate you that high. You’ve got to climb with me.”

            “Jiminy cricket,” he mutters, pulling up the sleeves of his robe. “Alright, let’s do this.”

            Junius waits while I find a good hold and pull myself up a few meters before following behind me. The surface of the wall is rough and uneven with age, making it a little easier to pick our way up, but it’s still a long way to the top. My arms are starting to shake, sweat stinging my eyes, palms aching from supporting my weight against the rock. Almost there, I tell myself, straining to keep my grip. I can hear the clinking of chains and uneasy ruffling of feathers. Finally, I pull myself up onto a wooden platform. I collapse to my knees, then use my wand to hoist up a weary Junius.

            “We made it,” I pant, clutching my side.

            “What now?”

            Just then, we hear footsteps pounding up a set of stairs, and muffled shouting. We scramble to our feet as Natty bursts around the corner with Florence hot on her heels, shouting, “They are coming!”

            I hop onto the dark-feathered hippogriff, Caligo, as Junius and Florence mount Highwing. Natty points her wand at the chains around the two hippogriffs’ ankles, crying, “Alohamora!”

            “Hurry!” Florence shouts, as the sound of several poachers thundering up the stairs grows louder.

            “Caligo, no!” I yell, as she runs toward the edge of the platform. Natty follows, trying to hop on behind me, but Caligo takes off, leaping from the platform edge. I look back, horrified, as Natty teeters on the edge of the platform, loses her balance and plummets downward. Florence urges Highwing into motion. The white hippogriff dives, catching Natty between her claws, swoops forward, and neatly drops her onto Caligo’s back. Natty throws her arms around my middle and we hold on for dear life as the hippogriff dives downwards to avoid a jet of green light. Somewhere behind us, I hear Florence scream as Highwing takes a sharp dive as well. The wind howls in my ears, whipping through my hair, as Caligo beats her powerful wings, carrying us away from the keep and back toward home. We fly over the Forbidden Forest, over Hogsmeade Station, and finally land in a little field by the lake shore at the bottom of Hogwarts Castle.

            “How exciting,” Natty laughs, breathless, releasing her grip around my waist.

            “I wasn’t sure we were going to make it out alive,” Junius replies, still not letting go of Florence, who’s trying to untangle a loose feather from her curls, protesting, “I had it all under control!”

            “Were you able to find the letter?” I ask.

            “Summoned it straight out of Harlow’s hands,” Natty confirms.

            “I suppose that would be why he seemed so upset with us?”

            Natty frowns. “I will say, I did not expect to see him cast the killing curse. He will not forget this. Be on your guard.”

            “What does the letter say?”

            “Rookwood is looking for a phoenix,” Florence says, casting the feather aside. “Not sure where he’ll find one. But it also included Harlowe’s orders to inspect that castle for the poachers. Enough to connect him to the crimes.”

            “I shall deliver the letter to Officer Singer. She will have to do something when she sees that,” Natty adds.

            “There you are!”

            Poppy is rushing toward us with Rosalinde close behind her. “What happened?” Rosalinde asks, as Poppy inspects each hippogriff for injuries.  

            Natty relays what happened at the castle, and Rosalinde explains her idea to keep the beasts safe in the Room of Requirement. “We just have to find a way to bring them into the castle subtly,” she finishes, grimacing. “That’s the part we’re still working on.”

            “What about putting them in a bottomless bag of sorts?” Florence suggests.

            “But how would we fit the larger beasts through the bag’s opening? And would it hurt them it all?” Poppy says, anxiously stroking Highwing’s neck.

            “We should talk to Regina,” Rosalinde says. “She’s very good at that sort of thing.”

            “No! No way,” I blurt, crossing my arms. “Black doesn’t care about magical creatures. She wouldn’t help us even if she could.”

            “I don’t know,” Poppy says, furrowing her brow. “When I spoke to Miss Black the other day, she was definitely supportive. She even offered to write to some people she knows, to see if they have any inside information on the poachers.”

            “I know you don’t get along, Tae, but this is important,” Rosalinde pleads. “She really has a knack for inventing things, and it’s at least worth asking.”

            “Fine,” I sigh. “But I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

Chapter Text

in which a little learning is a dangerous thing

Catherine Harris

            “Ranrok’s loyalists are capable of so much more than people realize,” Sebastian says, holding onto my hand as we make our way up the hill. “They should not be underestimated. They’ve been digging for something, up at that abandoned estate. That’s where all this debris you see came from.” As we cross a bridge, he points toward further up the hill, adding, “Up there, on that plateau is where they cursed Anne.”

            “Oh, my… so close to home?”

            He just nods, looking down. I clasp his hand tighter as we round the bend. At the top of the hill, there’s a crumbled, mossy stone wall surrounding a broken-down manor with a collapsed roof. The ground is littered with pickaxes and wagon-wheels. “Are Ranrok’s loyalists still around?”

            “They only come around after nightfall,” Sebastian explains. “This… this is where it happened. We smelled smoke in the middle of the night, and when we looked outside, flames were shooting from the estate. After what- after what happened to our parents, both of us- we rushed out, afraid someone would be hurt. If my uncle hadn’t grabbed me, I would have gotten there first, but it was Anne who came face to face with a horde of goblins, desperately trying to stamp out the flames. We were just close enough to hear an icy voice drifting out from somewhere in the smoke: Children should be seen and not heard,” Sebastian says, imitating the eerie voice and sending a shiver down my spine. “A blinding blast followed. They didn’t even give her a chance to run.”

            “Oh, Sebastian…” I wrap my arms around his middle, hugging him tight, murmuring, “it seems an awfully violent response to a child wandering by. I wonder what they were trying to hide?”

            “My thoughts exactly!” he exclaims, something lighting up in his eyes. “It may be grasping at billywigs, but I keep thinking, there might be something here that could lead me to whoever cursed Anne. That might be the only way to learn what type of magic harmed her, which is the only way to find a cure.”

            “Let’s have a look around,” I suggest, giving him one more tight squeeze before letting him go.

            “Thank you, Kitty,” he replies, briefly touching a loose strand of my hair. I feel my cheeks heating up once again, and this time, I don’t try and hide it.

            As we split up and start poking around through the rubble, I call out, “what exactly was this place, anyway?”

            “It’s been abandoned as long as I’ve lived here. Rumor was, a Hogwarts professor lived here once, centuries ago, but that’s all I’ve ever heard.”

            “This well looks familiar,” I say, a strange feeling prickling at the back of my mind.

            Sebastian shrugs. “If you’ve seen one well, you’ve seen them all.”

            “I suppose,” I reply, feeling uneasy.

            The feeling grows stronger as I wander closer to the edge of the hill, gazing out at the view of Feldcroft village. There’s something familiar about the whole thing from up here… almost like I can still see the swirls of ancient magic…

            “Sebastian,” I gasp, as everything clicks into place, “I’ve seen this before! The house, the well, the view!”
            “What do you mean? When?”

            “In the library, in the restricted section,” I tell him, “Regina and I found another pensieve-”

            “Hang on- another pensieve?”

            “Yeah, there was one in the vault at Gringotts.”

            “The one you and Fig found?”

            “Exactly! That pensieve had a memory of these two old men who were Hogwarts professors, and one of them could see ancient magic, like I can. They created the room in the vault. Then the pensieve in the library had two memories: The same two men, plus another man and a woman visiting this place- visiting Feldcroft- several centuries ago, after there was a drought. There was a little girl who lived here with her brother and her father. The people used ancient magic to restore Feldcroft from the drought. It was beautiful. Then, the second memory was of years later, there was a girl my age named Isidora at Hogwarts, and she was the little girl who lived here, and then she was a student and Professor Rackham- the old man who could see ancient magic- well, she could see it too, and he said he’d teach her to use it!” I tell him all about Jackdaw, and the missing pages, and how me and Regina joined with Rosalinde and Tae, and how we met Professor Rackham, and how there was a third pensieve at the end of his trial. “Oh, Sebastian, Isidora’s little brother had died, and it broke her father’s heart, he stopped speaking, and she wanted so bad to do something for him, and- but there was nothing,” I say, remembering my promise to Regina just in time. “And then the last memory we saw was years later, when she became a Hogwarts professor. So she must have been the Hogwarts Professor that lived here!”

            “So… is Ranrok looking for ancient magic?”

            “I think he must be. He used it to control that dragon and those trolls somehow.” I glance around, then whisper, “Let’s have a look around inside the manor.”

            “Alright, but we’d best be careful. Those beams look like they could collapse at any second.”

            We carefully make our way through the empty stone doorway. There’s a broken chair and a tipped-over table, and an empty cauldron still hanging in the long-cold fireplace. The roof is almost completely caved in, and vines have grown over all the walls. It’s hard to be nervous in the daylight, but I can just imagine how eerie this place would be after nightfall.
            “Look at this,” I breathe, examining a weathered portrait of a witch sitting with her hands in her lap. It’s been burned so that her face is no longer visible, and she’s not moving or speaking at all. “Do you think it was damaged by the fire the night that Anne was cursed?”

            “Could be,” he says, examining it closely. “But this looks intentional. A fire like that would have completely burned it up. It looks more like someone used a scorching curse on it.”

            “Hmm.” I stare at the portrait until it becomes clear that no new information will spring forth from it, then I slowly turn, wandering to the other side of the room. “Sebastian… look at this. I think there’s another room back there.”

            He bends over, peering through the cracks in the pile of rocks between two collapsed beams. “I think you’re right… we better be careful, though.”

            We get down on our knees and start carefully pulling the rocks away, watching the beams for any sign of imminent collapse.

            “I’m glad I’m doing this with you,” he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know, there’s just something about it that feels better than just doing it with my friends. I just feel like… I feel like you really listen to me.”

            “I definitely try,” I reply, feeling like a hundred butterflies are fluttering around in my stomach. “And I’m glad I’m doing this with you, too.”

            We finally get the rocks out of the way. Sebastian insists on going through first and then on holding the beams up while I crawl through just in case. I only pretend to protest. In truth, it feels really nice having someone who wants to keep me safe. “Check this out,” he says, gesturing toward a gaping hole in the ground. “A stairwell. Why bother blocking a stairwell?”

            “Hopefully, because it leads to whatever we’re looking for,” I suggest, lighting my wand. “Ooh, now this is a little creepy!”
            The cellar is full of stacked up furniture. Sebastian pokes around a bit, then realizes some of it is blocking the other half of the room. As he starts to move it, I pick up a yellowed piece of parchment and silently read the spiky handwriting scrawled across it.

            It is my second week in the camp. More arrive each day. The muggle doctors and even some of our own healers are doing all we can for them. The grief is palpable. The ones who have survived the plague are forever damaged by their loss. A fever may pass, the skin may mend and scar, but the devastating sorrow remains. I saw a man like my father, who had lost a child. I couldn’t bear it. I longed to give him some sense of relief. I’m beginning to think that the others are wrong. I have the power to help these souls. It seems arbitrary not to help them as it would be to rid them of their torment. I traveled here to learn, but I long to help. My internal struggle is overwhelming. It’s as if my magic wants to heal, and I am the one preventing it from doing so. Should I lose hope? Will I forever regret not having done more? I cannot look into their eyes, knowing I could lessen the burden of their heartache. I saw the man leaving camp today. The one who so reminded me of my father. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to help him? I could further my research, of course, but that would only be a fortuitous consequence of doing something good with this ability.

            My heart hammering, I tuck the note into my pocket before Sebastian can notice. I want so badly to tell him, but I know better than to break my promise to Regina. Besides, I still don’t know whether or not it worked. What if Isidora tried it and it all came to nothing? I don’t know how it worked.

            It’s a tough road he’s got to walk. There’s nothing harder for a man than not being able to do anything for someone he loves.

            It would be cruel to give him false hope, I decide, feeling like the note is burning a hole in my pocket as he calls me over to look at what he’s found. I’ll show the note to Regina and talk to her about it and wait until we’ve found out more from the keepers about how Isidora’s story ends.

            “It looks like a glass, but I can’t see anything in it, even when I shine my wand directly on it,” Sebastian says. “I tried cleaning it off a bit, to see if it was just dust, but I still can’t see any sort of reflection.”

            “Oh, you are not going to believe this,” I giggle, peering at our reflections in a totally different room, just like the private entrance to Gringotts. “I can see the Undercroft!”
            “What?”

            “I know it sounds strange, but-”

            “Honestly, nothing you say sounds strange to me anymore,” he sighs, slipping his arm around my shoulder.

            “Fair enough,” I reply, leaning into his side. “This has happened to me before. I think it’s got to do with my ability to see ancient magic.”

            “I thought you didn’t understand how to wield it?”

            “True, but I know my ability allows me to travel through these windows I see.”

            “Wait- are you saying we can get to the Undercroft from here? Ominis and Regina will be floored,” Sebastian laughs.

            I slip one hand into his and reach out toward the mirror with the other as a glowing symbol appears. Sebastian sputters as our surroundings immediately change, without so much as a flash or a bang or even a feeling of having moved at all.

            “Why would the door lead us here?” Sebastian wonders, as we slowly turn around, examining the familiar space. There in the opposite corner are the potting tables and potion station where Regina and I have been working every Tuesday and Thursday. “Wait- that wasn’t there before.”

            I look at what he’s pointing to- a strange wooden door on the wall opposite where we’re standing. We cross the room, examining it, then Sebastian pulls it open. It’s not a door, after all, but a strange sort of painting frame.

            “What is this?”

            “I think it’s called a triptych. Yeah,” Sebastian says, examining the landscape in the left part of the frame. The middle and right parts of the frame are empty. “It’s a three-part painting. That looks like where we just came from, but the other two parts are missing.” We stand there staring at it for a while, then Sebastian slowly says, “I’ve been thinking… This girl, Isidora, lived in that house centuries ago, and Ranrok and his lot have been searching there. You said that goblins may be wielding some form of ancient magic. Do you think… do you think Anne was cursed by ancient magic?”

            I hesitate, then reply, “I don’t know. I didn’t see any traces of it around her, but… it’s still possible, I suppose.”

            “There’s still so much we don’t know about it,” he muses. “Perhaps this triptych will lead us to answers. I had no idea our visit to see Anne would unfold into all of this! My head’s an utter mess. But I’m glad you told me everything you did.”

            I just nod, guilt churning my stomach. That note seems to weigh a million pounds in my pocket now. I’ve got to talk to Regina privately, probably when she tutors me on Tuesday, and tell the others. We need to go see Professor Rackham and get him to speed this process along so that we can find out more about this ancient magic- for Sebastian, and for Anne.

Chapter Text

in which oil and water do not mix

Rosalinde Iolanthe Peverell

            “Ermm… good evening, Miss Peverell, Miss, er, Sweeting. Er… may I help you?”

“May we come in?” Poppy asks. “We were hoping to speak with someone.”

Miss Parkinson shifts uneasily. “We, er, we do not usually let people from other houses into our common room. Who were you hoping to speak to? I can fetch them for you.”

“We want to speak to Miss Black,” I tell her.

Miss Parkinson grimaces. “Are you certain about that?”

“Yes, Rosy’s friends with her,” Poppy says.

“Unless she’s in a foul mood, then you needn’t bother her,” I quickly add. Poppy throws me a glance. “That is-”

“She’s in a fine mood, she just doesn’t always like being asked for, is all,” Miss Parkinson explains. “I’d really rather not be the bearer of such news, but if you’re set on it…”

“Are you afraid of her?” Poppy scoffs.

“I dare you to live with Miss Black for nearly seven years and not be afraid of her! At least you can escape her!” Miss Parkinson protests, huffing.

“We don’t want to cause any trouble,” I start to apologize, but Poppy puts her hands on her hips, saying, “We need to speak to Miss Black, and if you won’t help us, then I’ll go in there and find her myself.”

“Fine, fine,” Miss Parkinson hastily says. “I’ll go and get her.”

I’m starting to feel very nervous as the minutes crawl by, but finally, the door opens again and Regina emerges, wearing a fine green silk gown with brown lace. She seems to be in a decent mood, saying, “Ah. Rosalinde, Miss Sweeting. Let’s find a place to talk, shall we?”

            We follow her upstairs to an empty study corner and sit down. “I suppose you’re wondering if I’ve heard from my brother yet,” she says. “And I just received an owl from him today. Unfortunately, he did not believe I was interested, and refused to answer any of my questions. I’m very sorry.”

            “Thank you very much for trying,” Poppy says, “but we were actually wondering about something else. You see, we discovered a vivarium in the Room of Requirement that would be perfect for sheltering magical creatures in, but we’re having some trouble coming up with a way to bring the creatures into the castle safely. We went to ask Professor Weasley and the Headmaster for permission, but the Headmaster has forbidden it, so-”

            “So you want me to change his mind. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you there.”

            “Er- not quite,” Poppy replies, glancing at me. “We decided to try and find a way to do it subtly instead. Rosalinde, could you explain the idea we had?”

            “Well, one of our friends suggested using a bottomless bag, but we’re not sure how putting a living creature such as a hippogriff in one would work. I thought since you have such a knack for inventing things, you might be able to help us?”

            “You want my help smuggling magical creatures into the castle, something as large and noisy as a hippogriff, and my father has directly forbidden it?”

            “I understand if you’re not interested-”

            “Oh, no, I just wanted to make sure we were clear,” she says, her tone pleasant in a slightly dangerous way. “As it so happens, I already have just the thing you need.”

            Tae is less than happy about this development. Not that I blame them- Regina carefully avoided explaining the circumstances under which she created her “nab-sacks” for, but I recognized the innocent-looking leather bag as soon as I saw it, from a particularly chaotic third-year divination class. There’s no doubt that these are the exact same bags she and her friends used to capture the pixies used in the Incident. I don’t know what’s more impressive, her mastering the undetectable extension charm at thirteen, or Tae keeping a straight face while she explains how they work.   

            “So the inside is enlarged, yes, but how would it work if we wanted to use it on a creature that wouldn’t fit through the bag’s opening?” Poppy asks, gesturing to Highwing.

            “Well, the bag is charmed to draw nearby creatures in,” Regina muses, “I’m fairly certain it would be able to work with their dimensions. To the creature, it might feel a little bit like apparating. Not entirely pleasant, but not harmful in any way. But we’ll really have to test it to find out. If you don’t feel comfortable testing it on your hippogriff, we could try something else first. Perhaps a thestral? Can anyone else here see them?”

            “I can,” Natty volunteers. “I was with my father when he was killed.”

            “I’m so sorry,” Regina replies. “Very well then, you can help me.”

            “You can see them?” Tae asks, sounding heavily skeptical.

            She nods. “I suppose you can as well? Yes, that makes sense. Muggle wars are incredibly brutal. Growing up in the middle of one must have been very hard.”

            Tae looks taken aback. I mean, I know that Regina is capable of kindness, but that was more sensitive than I would have expected from her. “So, how come you can see them?” Tae asks, sounding less aggressive than usual.

            She stiffens, her expression tense, then quietly admits, “I’ve witnessed my share of muggle killings.”

            Tae decides not to pry any further after that. We share a glance, and I know we’re wondering the same thing: was the murderer someone she’s close to, possibly even family? Knowing where she comes from, it’s certainly not impossible.

            “We’ll need to fresh meat to attract a thestral,” Natty says. “Perhaps we could kill a deer?”

            Poppy and Florence don’t want to see that, so Junius takes them back to the castle. I don’t really want to see it either, but I’m the one in the group that Regina trusts, so leaving her with Tae and Natty doesn’t seem like a good idea. I follow them into the woods. We hide behind a bush as Regina points her wand at a grazing buck and whispers, “avada kedavra.”

            I let out a little scream as a jet of green light hits the deer. Tae swears. “That was- that was vile! You- you just-”

            “Do you eat meat?” she asks them.

            “Yes, but-”

            “Right, so you don’t think killing animals is wrong. That’s just the humane way to do it, since it’s immediate and painless. You know that muggles will shoot them with little metal balls that rip up their insides, and they have to wander around in pain until they die from blood loss?”

            “Alright, alright,” Tae acknowledges. “Still, that’s- that’s an unforgivable curse. If you can justify using it on an animal, what’s going to stop you from justifying using it on a human?”

            “Tae!” I protest, my knees shaking. They really could use a good, healthy dose of fear from time to time.  

            “Because killing people is wrong no matter how you do it,” Regina snaps, incensed. “I don’t understand how you can think I’d be capable of that. Why do you think I go to such lengths to use stunning spells and full-body binds, if not to avoid killing?”

            “Alright, fine. But I think you are capable of it. What if it was the only way to stop someone from killing you, or someone you love?”

            “Well, in that case, I suppose I would, but it would certainly keep me up at night after.”

            “Look!” Natty whispers, pointing.

            I let out a sigh of relief as a thestral lands on top of the deer corpse, then wince as it starts tearing chunks out of it. Regina slowly moves forward, then opens the nab-sack, pointing it toward the thestral. With a whinny of protest, it gets sucked right through the opening of the bag, which Regina snaps shut.

            “Right,” she says, handing the bag to me. “Now we’ll take that back to the Vivarium and release it, make sure it wasn’t harmed in the process.”

            I sling the bag over my shoulder, trying not to look suspicious as we make our way up to the corridor below the astronomy tower. Junius, Florence, and Poppy are already inside the Room of Requirement, which looks much the same as it did before. However, as we enter, there’s a great shifting and grinding noise, and the room contorts one wall into a set of stairs leading up to a second vivarium entrance. The inside is quite different from the first vivarium, with the sunny field. Instead, we find ourselves in a moonlight marsh with scattered ruins of broken-down walls.

            “It’s perfect for a thestral,” Poppy declares, pleased.

            I open the bag. At first, nothing happens. “There’s a password,” Regina explains, “otherwise whatever’s in there would get out every time you opened it. Dimittere!”

            I gasp as the golden light shines bright again and the thestral emerges, snorting and stamping. Poppy looks around, whispering, “Where is it? Does it look okay?”

            “Yeah,” I reply, as Regina runs a hand down the skeletal horse’s leathery back. “Our hippogriffs should be just fine.”

            “You’ll be needing more of these,” Regina suddenly says. “Give it here. Geminus!”

            About eight more leather bags spring up out of the first one, which Regina takes with her, wishing us a good evening. I help Poppy distribute the other nab-sacks among the rest of us. Tae and Natty go back for Hazel the unicorn, and Florence and Junius go off to rescue some Mooncalves.  Regina may not be interested in getting involved, but I’m glad I thought to ask her for help today. We’re going to do a lot of good with these.

            “Come on,” I murmur, taking Poppy’s arm, “let’s bring Highwing home.”

Chapter Text

in which genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains

Regina Amalthea Black

            “I’m sorry we’ve been so busy,” Ominis apologizes, using his wand to levitate another orange candle into place. “We haven’t had a chance to talk since, what, Saturday?”

            “I don’t believe we’ve had a proper conversation since Friday,” Sebastian replies, using his wand to carve out a pumpkin as I elegantly twist a black and orange garland around the banister. The common room is mostly empty, everyone being at dinner or in their last class of the day, and we’re in charge of decorating it for Halloween. “But to be fair, I’ve been busy as well.”

            “I hear you’ve been playing a lot of quidditch- are you thinking of trying out next year?” I ask him.

            “Oh, no, Kitty’s been training with a group of potential players, and they needed an extra keeper for scrimmages. I’m absolutely bollocks at it, but it’s fun anyways. Did you know Reyes wants her and Kitty to be Co-captains?”

            “Imelda Reyes, offering to share the spotlight?” I scoff. “What sort of magic is Kitty working on her? Anyways, did you enjoy your trip to Feldcroft? How did Anne and Uncle Solomon react to meeting Kitty? Is Anne still well?”

            Something flickers in his expression before he says, “Yes, you were right, she’s getting on rather splendidly, all things considered. Anne was thrilled to meet her, and Uncle Solomon was… less angry than usual, I’d say. I think it all went rather well.”

            “Good,” I reply, pleased. Even with all the mystery going on around this ancient magic stuff, I couldn’t have asked for things to be better than they are right now. Kitty showed me the notes she found in that old cottage- I can’t believe she went poking around Feldcroft all on her own, that girl has no sense of danger sometimes, and how did no one notice she had gone? I suppose Sebastian and his family had a lot to talk about. I promised Kitty we’d go see Professor Rackham, but I hope she continues to keep all this from Sebastian. It really looks like he’s finally moving on. It’s been years since I’ve seen him as cheerful as he has been for the last few weeks. I think I managed to convince Kitty that things are much better this way.

            “Tell us a scary story, Ominis,” Sebastian says, lighting another jack-o-lantern. “Set the mood.”

            “Very well then,” Ominis replies, sounding thoughtful. “Actually… there’s one I’ve had on my mind rather a lot recently.”

            “Is that so?

            Ominis nods. “The scariest part is that it’s all true. And… it wasn’t so long ago. It happened almost exactly nine years ago- nine years ago this Friday.” He clears his throat, then tells us: “My father received a letter from his sister, my Aunt Noctua. She was a seventh-year at Hogwarts-”

            “Hang on,” Sebastian interrupts, “Your father’s about fifty, isn’t he?”

            “He’s sixty,” Ominis replies, annoyed. “Can I please just-”

            “And he’s got a sister that’s, what, about twenty-six now? This is a scary story.”

            “She would be about twenty-six now. My grandfather was married three times. Do you want to hear it or not?”

            “Sorry, go on.”

            “My father received a letter from my Aunt Noctua: Dear Orpheus: I have gained access to Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium at last, but there is no straight path to reach it. It is a maze filled with many challenges to solve. I am going to enter and attempt to solve these challenges, in search of evidence of what I have always believed- that we do not need to use the Dark Arts as our family instructs. Salazar Slytherin buried this scriptorium deep within Hogwarts. I'm afraid I shall lose my way around these dark corridors. I am a descendant and yet I feel unwelcome. We should not require children to conform to old traditions. This scriptorium must have proof that there's more to our legacy than meets the eye. I shall soon find the scriptorium and discover untold secrets regarding our house founder. Salazar Slytherin intended more than what we've become. I know it. I hope you will follow me so that we can study our ancestor’s legacy together. He was busy at the Ministry at the time and did not see the letter until it was too late. Days later, the Headmaster- Regina’s father- came to tell him that Noctua had been missing for nearly a week. She had not shown up to any of her classes. She-”

            “Hang on,” Sebastian interrupts again, “Did you say this is a true story?”

            “Yes, Sebastian,” I snap, glaring at him. “His favorite Aunt disappeared nine years ago, you knew that.”

            “Right, but- all this about Slytherin’s Scriptorium is true as well?”

            “It is,” Ominis sighs. “My father chose not to send anyone after her. He said she was a skilled witch, and if she did not return, then no one else would. He did not wish for any other lives to be lost in pursuit of this Scriptorium. And she never returned.”
            “How come you’ve never told me any of this before?” Sebastian asks, sounding indignant. “About Salazar Slytherin having a scriptorium, here in the castle? I mean, that’s worth looking into!”

            “Sebastian!” I cry, outraged at his lack of sensitivity. “Weren’t you listening to the story? It’s dangerous.”

            “I think it’s worth it,” he insists, “especially since there could be something in there that might help us learn how to cure Anne.”

            “It would be full of nothing but dark magic!” Ominis snaps, starting to pace back and forth in agitation. “Anything to do with the dark arts should be avoided. It’s far too risky.”

            “Yeah, and I thought we were past this,” I remind him, horrified. “Anne is fine, remember?”

            He hesitates, looking like he wants to say something, then clenches his jaw. “I said I’d spend my time focusing on my future instead of grasping at straws, but I can’t just do nothing when there’s a possibility we could actually accomplish something! Anything to do with Salazar Slytherin is worth the risk.”

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him. “Salazar Slytherin was completely evil and twisted. You couldn’t possibly understand, you didn’t- you didn’t grow up around all this like we did. The Dark Arts bring nothing but pain.”

            “But Ominis, your Aunt-”

            “She was more like a mother to me,” Ominis says, his voice full of pain, “And I loved her, but she was wrong. Slytherin’s legacy is exactly what my family says it is. I won’t have anything to do with it. I’m sorry, but I won’t say a word more about this.”

            “Fine,” Sebastian replies, gritting his teeth. “I’m- I’m going to go meet Kitty. Her Magical Theory class will be ending soon.”

            He storms up the stairs and slams the door to the common room behind him. I let out a frustrated growl. “Can you believe him? The sheer audacity!”

            “I know,” Ominis says, his expression grim as he folds his arms around my waist. I pull him close, holding onto him tight, furious at Sebastian for treating his best friend’s loss as if it there was something to be gained from it. “But it really is starting to look like he might actually move on. Let’s try to be patient with him, and wait for Miss Harris to work her magic on him. He’ll forget about this soon enough.”

Chapter Text

in which no good deed goes unpunished

Catherine Harris

            “Is that the bell? My goodness, time has flown! Class dismissed, then,” Professor Fig chuckles, starting to erase the blackboard. I hurriedly copy down the last part into my notes, and then shut my field guide and pack up my bag.

            “Hey, Kitty- want to come study for divination with me, Addy, and Evie?” Violet asks, slinging her satchel over her shoulder.

            “Sure, I could use some studying before our test tomorrow- well, actually, maybe some other time,” I decide, spotting Sebastian lingering in the hallway. “Hey, you.”

            “Hey,” he replies, taking my hand.

We walk back down toward the common room. “You seem a little distracted,” I observe, frowning. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Well… no, not really.”

“What happened?”

As we find a spot on a couch near the common room fire, he tells me Ominis’s story, about his aunt and about Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium. I sit there, puzzling over it for a minute before asking, “How is what happened to Anne related to Salazar Slytherin?”

            “I don’t know that it is, but Slytherin was a genius. His scriptorium would be full of rare information no one’s ever seen before. That kind of thing is worth bringing to light regardless, isn’t it?”

            “Maybe. I hate that our founder is connected to the dark arts,” I reply unhappily. “I mean, look at all of us- we’re all good people. Even if he really was so bad, it’s not fair for our house to be tainted by it.”

            “Well, Ominis’s aunt thought there might be more to Slytherin’s story. That’s why she was so determined to find the scriptorium,” Sebastian explains.

            “Maybe.”

            To tell the truth, I feel doubtful about it, but I hate that he feels like people don’t listen to him. I always want to listen to him, even when he’s wrong. I mean, everyone’s wrong sometimes.

            “Is there anything you wanted to study?”

            “Divination, I guess. I’ve got another test tomorrow.”

            “What’s this one over?”

            “Astrology,” I groan. “Evidently, Mars and Venus are determined to personally destroy my life. Who knew?”          

            “Professor Onai is better than the last professor, but it’s still such a vague subject.”

            I’m in the middle of showing him my star chart when he suddenly says, “I’m going to look for that scriptorium. I’ll keep up with my classes, I promise, it’s just- Anne needs a cure, and this scriptorium could hold the answers I need!”

            “You’d be better off studying the triptych,” I advise, “since we know it really is connected to Anne’s curse, somehow.”

            “I’ve been studying that, too,” he replies, reluctantly dropping the subject. But he brings it up again a few minutes later, muttering, “There’s more to the dark arts than people realize- the Gaunts know that better than most!”

            “Sebastian, what?” I ask, starting to feel a little alarmed at how rapidly the idea of this scriptorium has consumed him.

            “Perhaps I’ve spoken out of turn. Ominis’s family history is personal to him.”

            “Alright, then.”

            “But Ominis trusts me,” he insists, folding his hands together. “And more often than not, he ends up listening to me. I’ll remind him of that when I ask him about the scriptorium again.”

            “I’m sure he’ll make the right decision,” I say, though I’m not completely sure who’s side I’m on here.

            “I’ll make Ominis understand. He’ll change his mind,” Sebastian concludes. “Now, what were you saying about Saturn’s moons?”

            After I finish my star chart, we linger by the fire for a little while longer before going to bed. He pulls me in for a hug, then suddenly, he leans in and brushes his lips across my cheek, whispering, “Goodnight, Kitty.”

            “Night, Bash,” I reply, my heart beating quite rapidly as I stumble up the stairs, grinning. I go up to my dormitory and pull on my nightgown, frowning at the sight of Isidora’s notes in my dresser.

            Maybe I should talk to Ominis and persuade him to help Sebastian. I mean, they’ve been trying for years now to stop him from going after the Dark Arts by refusing to listen to him and telling him they know better than him. And maybe they do, but their approach seems pretty flawed. If we all investigate this together, we can learn the truth.

            Wednesday gets off to a very good start. First I have my two favorite classes, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms, and then I take my Divination test, and I feel pretty good about it. When I join Sebastian, Regina, and Ominis at lunch, they seem to be getting along fine.

            “Sebastian,” Regina interrupts, pointing to the staff table, “my father’s here- are you ready to try and talk to him?”

            “Oh, yeah- I’ll go right now,” Sebastian says, eagerly getting up. “Wish me luck.”

            “Is he going to ask about repeating sixth and seventh year?” I ask, as he hurries off toward the high table.

            Regina nods, then nudges Ominis, and mutters quietly so I can barely hear, “he’s acting like nothing happened- either he’s moved on, or we’re in real trouble.”        

            Ominis sniffs. “You can’t help but like him, even when he’s a frustrating little pest, he’s like an enthusiastic owl.”

            “Don’t tell me he’s still going on about- what was it- a scriptorium?” I ask, as casually as possible.

            “He told you about that?” Ominis snaps, as Regina’s eyes flash dangerously. Uh oh- tread carefully, Kitty.

            “We were talking about Hogwarts founders and he mentioned it,” I fib, “but he didn’t say much more, though.”

            “Yes, well, he seems to think it contains the answer to saving Anne. I think it’s more likely full of dark magic that’s better left untouched,” Ominis replies, still sounding peeved, but much less threatening.

            “I don’t understand- he just saw her. Why can’t he get it into his head that she’s fine?” Regina sighs.

            “So you’ve never been inside?”

            “Of course not!” Ominis replies, sounding shocked, as if I’ve said something highly scandalous. “I only know about it because of my favorite Aunt, Noctua. She didn’t agree with my family on the use of Dark Magic. She wanted to convince my family that there was more to Salazar Slytherin’s legacy than worshipping pure-blood status. She’d heard of this scriptorium and thought its contents might shed some light on him. She even found the secret entrance. She wrote regularly to my father about her efforts to gain access, and then, she simply vanished. No one else ever tried to enter.”

            “Don’t you want to find out what happened to her?” I ask curiously.

            “Aunt Noctua went down that path with good intentions, and lost her life. I don’t want anyone else to do the same,” he stiffly replies. Regina gives me a dirty look.

            I glance up at the high table. Sebastian is still trying to get the Headmaster’s attention. I lean in, whispering, “You don’t know that history would repeat itself. This could honor her memory. You could get answers about Slytherin, and Sebastian could get answers about Anne.”

            “Kitty-” Regina starts, but Ominis holds his hand up. She falls silent, frowning, as he swallows a bite of his lunch, then says, “I already have my answers about Slytherin. The dark arts are absolutely vile. I know because- because I learned them from my family.”

            Regina puts her hand on his shoulder, saying, “Ominis, you don’t have to-”

            “She needs to understand,” Ominis insists, setting down his fork. “Miss Harris, are you familiar with the Cruciatus curse?”

            “Ominis,” Regina protests again, looking deeply uncomfortable.

            I glance up at the high table again before nervously saying, “I know it’s one of the Unforgivables, but what does it do?”

            “It’s known as the torture curse,” Ominis explains. “It inflicts intense, excruciating pain on the victim. My parents and older siblings have no qualms about using it on muggles for nothing but sport. The sound of the victim’s cries are horrific. So the first time I was asked to cast it myself as a child, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As punishment, my brother cast it on me. The anguish… I had never felt anything like it. He ordered me to cast it again, and I… I relented.”

            “You did what you had to,” Regina blurts, furiously wiping her eye. “You didn’t have any choice-”

            “An unforgivable curse won’t work unless you mean it,” he reminds her, sounding deeply weary. “I still haven’t forgiven myself.”

            “How horrible,” I whisper, “But you were only a child. You shouldn’t blame yourself!” Turning to Regina, I hesitantly ask, “Did- did anything like that ever happen to you?”

            “I’m not talking about it,” she hisses, fixing me with her most fearsome glare. “The point is, the dark arts are vile and twisted and- and they leave a mark you can’t ever get rid of. Sebastian doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t encourage this.”

            “I know.” It looks like Sebastian has the Headmaster’s attention now. I turn back to Regina and Ominis, desperately saying, “But he’s going to try and find it anyways. And what if he does? And what if he goes in alone? You’ve tried telling him what the right thing to do is, and it isn’t working. What you’re saying makes sense, you have experience that he doesn’t, and that’s why he needs you to help him. If he decides to go on with this behind your back, you won’t be there to stop him from going too far. I know how bad you want to help him, and I want to help him too. He doesn’t feel like anyone listens to him, but I’ve been listening to him, and it’s working! Ominis- your aunt went in alone, but- but we could all go in together.”

            Sebastian is rapidly approaching the table now. Ominis sighs, rubbing his temple, then sits up. “Fine.”

            “What?” Regina says, looking aghast.

            “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve convinced me,” he tells me. “You’re right. It’s not working. Maybe it’s time to try a new approach.”

            “You can’t be serious,” Regina protests, sending me a reproachful glare.

            “Sebastian! How did it go?” I ask, feeling triumphant.

            “Could’ve been worse,” he says, sitting back down. “I didn’t get a chance to actually bring up my request, but he said I could come talk to him in his office on Thursday. Regina, will you put in a good word for me? Er…” he trails off, glancing around at us. “Did something happen?”

            “Sebastian,” Ominis says, clearing his throat, “I’ve changed my mind.”

            “What? Wait- about the scriptorium?”

            “That’s right,” he sighs. “Kitty made a good point. It’s better for us all to investigate it together than for you to go alone. I’ll show you where the entrance is on Friday evening.”

            “Unless I can convince him that this is a terrible, horrible idea,” Regina mutters, crossing her arms.

            “Wait… Kitty talked to you about it?” Sebastian asks, giving me a look that makes my insides twist up. “You wouldn’t tell me when I practically begged.”

            “It wasn’t you who told me what I needed to hear,” Ominis sniffs.

            “I see. So that’s how it is,” Sebastian snorts, crossing his arms. “The grown-ups had a little chat to decide what’s best for me. I’m sick and tired of you all treating me like I can’t make one single decision for myself without the whole world coming to an end!”

            “It wasn’t- I didn’t mean-” I stammer, a horrible guilt creeping into my stomach as the tears well up in my eyes. “I just- I just wanted-”

            Whatever I was going to say gets choked off by a sob as the overwhelming urge to run takes over again. I get to my feet, nearly tripping over the bench, and dash away as Regina yells, “Now look what you’ve done!” I wanted to help him, not hurt him! How did I fail so miserably?  

            I hear footsteps echoing along behind me. “Kitty!” Sebastian calls, running around the corner. He catches up to me in the empty corridor and throws his arms around my shoulders, saying, “Kitty, wait, I’m not- I’m not upset with you- I’m sorry- I’m frustrated with Ominis, that he was willing to listen to you and not me. I feel like I’m losing my mind a little here. My friends have decided I’m an irrational idiot who can’t be trusted to tie his own shoelaces, please don’t be mad at me, Kitty, you’re the only one who’s on my side!”

            “I-I thought you were mad at me,” I sniffle, wiping my eyes.

            “Never,” he promises, pulling me into a hug. “I’m glad you did that for me. I should have told you that before letting out my frustration with them. I’m so sorry, Kitty.”

            “Well, they shouldn’t treat you that way. It’s not fair at all.”

            My insides untwist and relax, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering contentedly as he smiles down at me, holding me close. Feeling bold, I stand up on my tip-toes and quickly press my lips against the side of his freckled cheek. A warm feeling flashes through me. Our eyes meet, and then he puts his hands on my face and leans in and sets his lips right on mine.

It’s over as suddenly as it began. I gasp, laughing a little as he hugs me tight. My first kiss. My first kiss. I just had my first kiss!

“Come on, we should get back to the common room,” he suggests, clasping my hand. “I want to talk things over with Ominis. I want us to be able to trust each other again.”

“Of course,” I agree, feeling as light as a feather, all my woes completely forgotten.

As soon as we open the door to the common room, though, the sound of raised voices brings me crashing back down to earth. Me and Sebastian share a wary glance before hesitantly starting down the stairs as Ominis’s voice rings out, “And so what if I do want to find out? She was the only person I ever had to look up to, and no one even went looking for her! All I’m saying is that I don’t- I don’t want to make every decision based on cold, hard logic with no regards to how anybody feels about it!”

“Oh, and you’re saying that’s what I do?” Regina shouts, enraged. “I thought we agreed on this- I thought we agreed that this was a bad idea- and now you’re going to turn around and- and you’re going to regret this!”

            “You make it sound like I betrayed you-”

            “Well, you certainly didn’t ask for my opinion before making your decision! You could’ve just said you would think about it, but no, you had to go and make up your mind, right then and there! You can still take it back-”

            “No, I can’t, and you know what? I don’t want to.”

            “Fine! Fine! You go and do exactly the opposite of what you’ve always said you’d do, meddle with the dark arts, and don’t expect me to fix everything when someone gets hurt!”

            “Fine!”

            We stop at the bottom of the stairs. The common room is completely empty except for the two of them, glaring at each other. Ominis turns toward Sebastian as he cautiously says, “Er- Ominis- can we talk things through? I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

            Ominis relaxes just a little, saying, “Yes, Sebastian, I’d like that.” Regina stands still as a statue as the two of them retreat up the steps to the boys’ dormitory. Then she turns on me.

            “Regina,” I awkwardly begin, but she cuts me off. In the coldest tone I’ve ever heard, she says, “For your sake, I hope he drops the dark arts after this.” With that, she turns on her heel, chin in the air, imperiously making her way up the stairs. I want to go to my dormitory, but following her seems like a bad idea, so instead I settle on one of the couches as other Slytherins start to trickle back into the common room, starting with all the other seventh-year girls. After a while, Sebastian comes back down the stairs to join me.

            “How did it go?”

            “Really good,” he replies, grinning. “He said you told him that they needed to be there for me?”

            “Well, you know, I thought-”

            All rational thoughts make a rapid exit as he leans in and kisses me again, just a little longer this time, then he pulls away and I stand there, blinking and grinning, and then we sit down on the sofa by the fire as he says, “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

            “I mean… I think we’re doing the right thing, but… don’t you feel a little bad?”

            “About what?”

            “I mean, Regina and Ominis. Do you think they’ll…?”

            “Oh,” Sebastian snorts, “no. This isn’t exactly their first fight. I reckon they’re pretty good at it by now.”

            “Hey,” I chide, elbowing him, “Seriously! Regina’s been a good friend to me, and-”

            “Don’t worry, Kitty,” he assures me, “I am being serious. This is nowhere near the worst fight I’ve seen them have. In our third year, they refused to speak to each other for almost a month, all because she wouldn’t apologize for something silly. Ominis and Regina are the most stubborn people I know, but they’ll work it out. They always do.”

Chapter Text

in which the good die young

Chapel Allerton, Leeds, Spring 1882

            “Tell me again what happened.”

            “I didn’t mean to!”

            “I know you didn’t mean to. I still need to know what happened so that I can help when the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad gets here.”

            “Fine. The muggle boy was grubbing around your venomous tentacula, so I told him off. He wouldn’t stop asking questions about my eyes. I got mad and I accidentally turned his nose into a squash. But I don’t want to play with him, sir, he’s a savage!”

            “Very well, you don’t have to. But what was that tone all about?”

            “Sir?”

            “The way you said “muggle,” as if the very idea disgusts you.”

            “Well, they’re all savages. My mother told me so, and I’ve seen it to be true. They only care about themselves.”

            “Selfishness is a human quality, unfortunately- often seen in muggles and wizardkind alike. I think you will find that many muggles are wonderful people, and many wizards are as selfish as can be.”

            “It’s not just that. You haven’t seen the way they kill each other!” 

            “Ah, that’s right. Sometimes I forget you’ve seen more already than most folks here will have to see in their whole lives. I wish I could say things are different here, but if you’d landed in Ireland, you’d likely find yourself back in the same situation you came from. But you’ve got to be careful about starting to think that you’re better than others. You’ll end up with people you won’t like very much after a while. The only way to find a friend is to be one. Ah… looks like the Ministry is here. Let’s see if we can help clean up the mess, shall we?”

Jung-Soon Tae

            “Ooh, is that a roast? Friday dinners are lovely,” Poppy says, as she and Rosalinde slide into seats across from my friends and I. “Frances said you were looking for me?”

            “Yeah, I finished your outfit for the march, Pops. I can give it to you when we go back to the common room.”

            “Oh, thank you! You’re the best, Tae.”

            “Are you going, too?” I ask Rosalinde.

            She hesitates, before shaking her head, muttering something about her parents not approving. Poppy clears her throat and glances around, then leans in and quietly tells me, “I’m so sorry, but I have another favor to ask you. This one’s a big one, so feel free to tell me to get lost.”

            “What is it?”

            “It’s Natty,” she sighs. “She keeps asking me what we’re going to do to fight the poachers next. Now that we’ve found a way to shelter the magical creatures and keep them safe, I want us to focus our efforts on finding creatures and bringing them back to the castle with the Nab-sacks. I don’t want any of us clashing with the poachers anymore after your encounter at the keep. But you know how Natty is, I’m afraid she won’t be swayed. She’s determined to pursue this, and I’m worried about what will happen to her if she pursues this alone.”

            “You want me to keep an eye on her.”

            “If you don’t mind, yes. I feel responsible for getting her started on this path. It would be really nice to know that someone has her back, especially someone with your… I mean, I’m trying to say… We all do really well in school, but you have experience in the real world that we don’t.”

            “Yeah, I get it. Okay. I’ll help her out,” I promise, clearing my plate. “Where- oh, I see her heading this way now. Natty! What’s the hurry?”

            “I have a lead,” she triumphantly replies, grinning. “My mother was having tea with Mrs. Bickle and I heard them talking. Mrs. Bickle was telling my mother that Theophilus Harlow has been threatening her husband! I sent an owl to Mr. Bickle and he has agreed to give us the evidence Officer Singer needs in order to arrest Harlowe!”

            “Natty, that’s wonderful,” I reply, glancing back at Poppy, who nods.

            “The Bickles live in Lower Hogsfield,” Natty explains, as we head toward the castle’s front doors. “They have two children. Ellen Bickle is a first year and Archie Bickle is nine years old.”

            “Oh, yeah, I’ve met Ellie. She’s in Hufflepuff,” I recall, smiling. She’s an independent sort of girl, and fascinated with bugs. “So, shall we apparate to the Bickle’s home?”

            Natty takes my arm and I concentrate on the marshy grass outside Lower Hogsfield where we had our first Anti-poaching meeting. After regaining her balance, she follows me up the stone path and through the Bickle’s front gate. I knock on the wooden door, and we take a step back.

            At first, no one answers. Someone opens the window-shutter a fraction of an inch, and then Mrs. Bickle cracks the front door open and whispers, “May I help you, children?”

            “I believe Mr. Bickle is expecting us- er- is something wrong?” I awkwardly ask as she covers her mouth with her handkerchief.

            “You best come in, quickly now,” she urges, opening the door just a little wider. We squeeze inside as she frantically bolts the door behind us, sobbing, “My husband- is dead! He killed him!”

            “Who?” I ask, grasping her elbow to steady her as she sways, feeling as if I already know the answer.

            “Theophilus Harlowe,” She gasps, “I’m sure of it. He’s been threatening my husband for weeks, and- and where is my son? Where is Archie?”

            “I don’t mean to be grim, but could Harlowe have taken him?” Natty asks, offering the woman another handkerchief.

            “His satchel is missing, so he could have left on his own. Hopefully, he’s just gone wandering, as he’s prone to do. But he- he was home with his father while I was out. I hope he wasn’t here when Harlowe- when my husband-” Natty wraps her arm around Mrs. Bickle as the woman dissolves into sobs.

            “Do you know which way he might have gone?”

            “He has a little ‘hideout’ in the forest south of here, where he and his sister used to play. He never wanders far, but if he witnessed Harlowe doing something to his father- I’m afraid to leave, in case he comes back home!”

            “Why would Harlowe have done this?” Natty murmurs, glancing around the cottage.

            “My husband had been looking into Harlowe’s dealings and discovered some of what he’s been up to. I begged him to leave it alone, but he- he was convinced that…”

            “We’ll find your son, Mrs. Bickle,” I promise. Natty nods determinedly, helping Mrs. Bickle to the worn loveseat before joining me by the door.

            “Be careful, children- Harlowe is Rookwood’s second in command,” Mrs. Bickle warns. “He’s a miserable, awful creature- vicious and murderous!”

            “Please do not worry, Mrs. Bickle, we will bring Archie home,” Natty assures her. 

            “So, we were too late. Whatever evidence Mr. Bickle had is gone,” I say, as we jog off toward the south forest.

            “Mrs. Bickle may be able to tell us more when she is calm, if he confided in her. Plus, Archie may have seen… I hope he saw nothing, for his sake, but if he did witness Harlow murder his father, his account would be more than enough.”

            “Whatever happened to that letter we brought her?”

            “She thanked me, but she clearly felt that it was not enough. Evidently several people have already tried to build cases against him and failed.”

            “He must have very powerful friends inside the Ministry.”

            “Indeed. Goodness, is that an entire dragon skeleton?”

            “I think so.” I scrape my fingernail down the moss-covered bone. “Been here for quite some time, by the looks of it. Hey- that must be Archie’s hideout.”

            “Archie?” Natty calls, turning around and around, peering through the thick trees. “Archie Bickle?”

            An old red quaffle is lying on the ground next to a little blue tent, with a crooked sign hanging from the entrance inscribed “Fort Archie.” Another signpost next to the tent says “Beasts Welcom” and the inside of the tent is covered in posters of mooncalves and hippogriffs and dragons. Various toys are scattered on the ground inside. But there’s a huge, long rip in the tent fabric, some of the toys are smashed, and there are several large bootprints in the mud nearby.

            I point out the ripped fabric to Natty, saying, “Archie would not have done this to his own hideout. Someone came here looking for him.”

            “And they left us a trail again. One would think that a group of people who track beasts for a living would be a little more stealthy.”

            “Well, I’m not complaining. There- they definitely went this way.”

            I tear my eyes away from a long scorch mark marring a nearby tree and follow after her. Two sets of heavy boot prints and a much smaller, lighter set of shoe prints lead through the forest to a clearing where there are signs of another scuffle and an abandoned yellow satchel. The smaller footprints converge with the bootprints and disappear, leading off in another direction.

            “They must have caught up to him here- come on, before it is too late!”

            “They must have a reason for pursuing him- he must have seen Harlowe kill his father,” I grunt, as we sprint downhill.

            “If he has, he will never overcome it- at least, not in any way I can imagine,” Natty replies sadly.

 We reach a fork in the beaten road and follow the boot prints to the right. We slow our pace a bit to catch our breath. A noise in the trees gets my attention. I peer through the branches as we jog past and catch sight of a thestral watching us with pale, milky eyes.

            “They are beautiful, are they not?” Natty breathes. “I find comfort in them. I think those of us who have witnessed death deserve some comfort.”

“How old were you when your father died?” I ask, pressing on the stitch forming in my side.

            “I was nine. I was with him when he died. My mother was away, and I felt quite helpless. It was a long time ago in some ways, but in other ways, it seems like it was only yesterday. I still see him so clearly.”

            “You must miss him.”

            “I do. My father was a wonderful man. I… let us keep moving. We must find Archie,” she says, picking up the pace again.

The footprints lead down another steep slope to a shabby campsite and a dingy gray tent. We use the disillusionment charm and slip inside, as quietly as possible. Sometimes I forget how big wizard tents are on the inside. It looked like a regular camping tent outside, but inside is the size of an entire circus tent with several floors and rooms. This complicates things a little.

“You don’t think he saw it happen, did you? He’s just a child, we really ought to release him,” an anxious voice says somewhere nearby. The voice sounds strangely familiar, as if I’ve heard that posh London accent somewhere before. We scramble back as two Ashwinders walk right past us, the second one sneering, “Not until we find out more. Harlowe will make the final call when ‘e gets back.”

So Harlowe isn’t here. Thank goodness. It takes everything in me to hold back my disgust and stay quiet as the Ashwinders pass by. As soon as they’re out of the way, we creep down a set of stairs toward a high-pitched voice calling, “Help! Help! Is anyone there? Help me!”

We find the source of the voice in a beast cage in a circular room on the bottom floor: A small boy in a pinstripe shirt and trousers with a battered green flat cap, with a strong resemblance to Ellie Bickle. Surprisingly, no one is on guard. Do the Ashwinders really not realize how easy they are to find? I remove the disillusionment charm and quietly ask, “Archie? Is that you?”

“How do you know who I am?”

“Your mother sent us to find you.”

“Oh, thank goodness!”

“Not too loud, Archie,” Natty gently reminds him, getting the lock on the cage door open.

“A man called Harlowe- he killed my father,” Archie whispers. “Thank you for saving me.”

“We won’t let him get away with it. Now come on, Archie, let’s get you back. Stick with us and stay quiet.”

Natty and I each take one of his hands and then I tap him on the head with my wand, muttering the incantation to the disillusionment charm. Once all three of us are invisible, we start back up the stairs, as slowly and quietly as possible, Natty in the front. The tent is a bit of a maze, but I think the entrance is to the left. Natty starts to head off to the right. I start to tell her, but stop myself as an Ashwinder passes by us, heading down the stairs. We only have a few moments before they realize Archie’s gone.

I start tugging them in the opposite direction. It takes a few moments for Natty to get the message, but finally she and Archie start following me toward the door. We’re a meter away from safety when a loud shout echoes up the stairs: “HE’S GONE!”

The first Ashwinder whips open the tent entrance right in front of our faces. We stumble sideways, trying to avoid him as he marches past, but Archie trips, knocking over a stack of crates with a muffled, “Ow!”

“What was that?”

There’s nothing for it. I pull out my wand and think Petrificus Totalus! and yank Archie and Natty toward the exit as he collapses, stiff as a board. His mask slides off his face and with a jolt I recognize Ezra Graves, who was in Gryffindor until he graduated last June. I’d heard the Graves family had fallen on hard times, but I never suspected Ezra would stoop this low. Natty tugs on my arm. Regaining my senses, I follow her out, getting a firm grip on both her and Archie, and disapparating to the Bickle Cottage just as the second Ashwinder comes thundering back up the stairs.

“Archie!”

Mrs. Bickle jumps up from the worn loveseat, hands shaking. Ellie Bickle must have gotten here while we were gone. She throws her arms around her little brother, her face pale and tear-stained. Archie falls into his mother’s embrace.      

            “Oh, Mother, Father’s friends are in danger! I heard the people who took me talking about them.”

            “Which friends, darling?”

            “Mr. and Mrs. Rabe… Mr. Philbert… and… I think they also said Otto’s name.”

            “I shall write to them at once. Thank you, darling. Now, why don’t you have a lie-down, my brave boy?”

            “Yes, mother,” Archie replies, looking weary. Ellie hugs Natty and I, thanking us both for taking care of her brother.

            “Your husband’s friends may be in danger?” I ask Mrs. Bickle.

            “Aye, just as he was.”

            “How can we help?”

            “You’ve done enough. My husband was a powerful wizard, and he couldn’t defeat Harlowe. The last thing we need is that monster coming after you children.”

            “We don’t want to worry you. I’m so sorry about your husband, Mrs. Bickle.”

            “Thank you- and thank you for bringing Archie home. I can never repay the two of you for your kindness.”

            “Not to worry, Mrs. Bickle,” Natty says, gently patting her arm. “My father used to say that rain does not fall on one roof alone. We are here to help each other.”

            As soon as we leave the cottage, I turn to her, starting to suggest we return to the castle, but she grabs my arm, hissing, “Quick, we need to find Officer Singer and bring her to the Ashwinder Tent before they can get away!”

Chapter Text

in which hard cases make bad law

Jung-Soon Tae

            “Are you sure about this? Where is Officer Singer, anyways?”

            “Take us to Hogsmeade Square. We should be able to find her somewhere nearby,” Natty insists.

            “Alright,” I reluctantly agree, squeezing my eyes shut and concentrating on statue in the square center. Pop! There we are, staring at the stone likeness of Hengist of Woodcroft.

            “Let’s check the Three Broomsticks,” I suggest.

            Before I can pull the door open, though, it’s pulled open from the other side. “Well, well, if it isn’t our troll dispatcher! And Miss Onai. Good evening to both of you.”

            “Officer Singer! There is no time,” Natty urges. “You must come with us at once. We found an Ashwinder campsite. You must arrest the Ashwinders there for abducting a child, and we have evidence that they assisted in a murder.”

            “Mr. Jung? Is this true?”

            “It is,” I confirm. “Theophilus Harlowe murdered Mr. Bickle of Lower Hogsfield and abducted his son, Archie. Archie saw everything. They were keeping him prisoner in this camp until we rescued him.”  

            “Oh, children,” Officer Singer sighs, “Next time please let the authorities handle the Ashwinders. Miss Onai, your mother would not be happy to know that you are out making an enemy of dangerous men. You may wish to speak to her about this before I do. Very well, take me to this campsite.”

            I take her and Natty’s arms and picture the campsite. Pop! I open my eyes again, blinking. Wait- where…?

            “We are too late!” Natty cries, dismayed. “They must have packed up in a hurry.”

            “There is definitely evidence that someone was here,” Officer Singer notes. “How many people witnessed Theophilus Harlowe killing Mr. Bickle?”

            “Just his son, Archie.”

            “Ah.” Officer Singer sighs. “I should have known it would be no good.”

            “What do you mean?” Natty asks, frowning.

            “As the current law stands, underage witches and wizards cannot give testimony in criminal cases. I can only take Mr. Jung’s testimony as evidence, not yours or Archie Bickle’s.”

            “Wait, are you serious? That’s really the law?” I ask incredulously. “That isn’t right.”

            “I know, Mr. Jung. There are many errors in the law, and many deep pockets dedicated to making sure it stays that way.”

            “Disgusting,” I mutter.

            “Well, in that case, we had all best get back to Hogsmeade. You children need to stay out of danger. We’ll handle it from here.”

            “Wait, I do have some evidence,” I protest. “I witnessed the fact that two Ashwinders brought Archie Bickle here and held him against his will. They locked him in a cage. There were two of them I didn’t see their faces- they all wear masks- but I did see that one of them was Ezra Graves.”

            “Mr. Graves?” Officer Singer asks, conjuring a quill and notepad and scribbling something down. “Very well, then. I’ll put a warrant out for his arrest. He’ll be charged with child-stealing. Once he’s brought in, you’ll need to give your testimony before the Wizengamot.”

            “Of course.”

            “Alright, if that is all, I had best head back to Hogsmeade. Stay out of trouble, you two. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been endangering your lives again.”

            “Thank you, Officer Singer.”

            After she disapparates, Natty lets out a frustrated sigh. We stand there in the twilight for a moment before I hear a rustling in the trees again and spot the thestrals again.

            “I suppose we should take these back to the castle,” I suggest, glumly opening my nab-sack.

            Back at the castle, Natty heads off toward Gryffindor tower, and I take the Nab-sacks up to the Room of Requirement to release the Thestrals. When I open the door, Rosalinde and Black are already inside, practicing combat stances. There’s a grinding noise, and a little round table appears, laid out with a steaming teapot, sugar-bowl and cream pitcher, a tray of scones, three fine teacups, and three comfy-looking chairs.

            “That would be our cue to take a break,” Black says, nodding at me. “I’ll pour.”

            I set the nab-sacks down and join the two girls at the table, suddenly realized how many hours it’s been since dinner. I wipe my hands and select a scone.

            “Cream or sugar?” Black asks.

            “Just a little cream,” Rosalinde replies. “And thank you again, I know you’ve had a difficult week with-”

            “Excuse me, I’m not quite sure what you mean,” Black interrupts, suddenly sounding stiff. “And it’s n

o problem anyways, these are just the basics.”

            Rosalinde ducks her head, looking embarrassed. I frown. “Is everything alright?”

            “Everything is fine. Rosalinde asked me to help her catch up with Defense Against the Dark Arts so that she can keep herself safe during the trials to come.”

            Rosalinde leans in and in Korean mutters, “She and Ominis have been fighting.”

            “Oh,” I say, looking uncertainly at Black. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is there-”

            “Stop,” she groans, looking exasperated. “I know, everyone’s talking about it, taking their bets, but I don’t want your pity. We’ll work it out, as long as we’re still alive tomorrow.”

            “Er… is there a reason why you wouldn’t be?”

            “It’s so stupid,” she complains, massaging her temple. “Sebastian wants to find Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium, and he’s been pestering Ominis to show him how to get in. Ominis knows from a deceased relative he was actually rather close to- Sebastian’s been awfully insensitive about the whole affair. Anyways, Ominis had enough good sense to say no, but now Miss Harris has gone and convinced him-”

            “She’s back to “Miss Harris,” then?” Rosalinde asks, looking sympathetic.

            “She’s driving me mad. Doesn’t have a clue how dangerous any of this could be- will be. Salazar Slytherin was a twisted lunatic. Ominis knows that! He’s been swayed by his grief and nostalgia. And he accuses me of being too logical. I’m sorry, but I can’t see how that’s supposed to be a problem.”

            “Are you going to go with them?”

            “Of course I am,” she snorts. “They’ve no chance of making it out alive without me. Morons, the whole lot of them.”

            “You don’t believe in your friends at all?” I ask, repressing a laugh, because that was such a Regina Black thing to say.

            “Perhaps a little bit,” she amends. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: When you want a thing done, you’ve got to do it yourself. Now, I don’t want this particular thing done at all, but if I fail to persuade them to see the error of their ways, I’d rather it be done right than completely bungled.”

            “Maybe sometimes the wise course of action isn’t always the right course of action,” I suggest.

            “Or maybe,” Rosalinde adds, looking thoughtful, “sometimes it’s better to be wrong with your friends than right without them.”

            “Yes, well, they shall see who was right in the end,” Black mutters, looking very cross.

Chapter Text

in which it is better to travel hopefully than to arrive

Catherine Harris

            “There you are!”

            “I’m sorry, I had astronomy,” I explain breathlessly, winded from running all the way from the astronomy tower to the dungeons.

            “Well, you look cute,” Sebastian says, grinning. He’s wearing his green Slytherin athletic robe that he got in Hogsmeade after the troll attack. Regina’s gown is even finer than usual- shiny orange silk embroidered with black skulls- and Ominis is pacing nearby in a matching waistcoat. They’ve kept up appearances all week even though they’ve hardly spoken to each other, but it hasn’t stopped the whole school from talking about it. It’s been so uncomfortable, Sebastian and I have been sitting with Violet and Maltby and their friends. I’ve done my best to shut down any rumors, but honestly, I can’t see how they’re ever going to work it out. I definitely wasn’t expecting her to come with us.

            “These braziers grant access to the scriptorium,” Ominis explains, gesturing toward three unlit pillars in the corridor. “Something to do with threes.”

            “Well, three heads are better than one,” Sebastian replies.

            “It’s two,” Regina snaps. “two heads are better than one.”

            “Well, naturally it follows that three would be better than two. I suppose we should light them?”

            “Only if you insist on certain death,” Regina sniffs, reaching down and scooping up her pet snake, which is starting to get quite long. She starts hissing something to the snake as Sebastian and I use incendio to light each brazier.

            “Something’s happening,” Ominis says, wary, as a scraping sound fills the corridor.    

            “We did it! A secret door’s opened up. There’s a stairwell leading down,” Sebastian tells him.

            “I hope we’re ready for this.”

            “Wait,” Regina protests. I watch curiously as she continues to hiss at the snake, sounding irritated, until it slithers away.

            “What’s going on?” Sebastian asks.

            Regina refuses to answer, taking a shuddering breath. “She- Chyra, the snake- won’t join us,” Ominis explains. “She doesn’t want to go in there.”

            “Why would a snake want to avoid something that has to do with Salazar Slytherin?” Sebastian asks.

            “I don’t know,” he says, starting to pace anxiously again. “I don’t know about this, maybe this isn’t such a good idea-”

            “Hmph!” Regina sniffs, throwing her hands on her hips and tapping her ankle, glaring impatiently.

            “I’m going in no matter what,” Sebastian says.

            Ominis sighs. “Then I shall keep my word. Regina? I suppose this is your last chance to turn back.”

            “I’m not a coward,” she snaps, even though she’s visibly trembling.

            I feel a little uneasy, watching the snake disappear around the corner. What could possibly be down there that would put her in such a state? I’ve never once seen her lose her composure the way this whole ordeal has. Even when she’s been angry or anxious before, she’s kept her poise. But Sebastian needs this, I remind myself, slipping my hand into his as we start to make our way down the narrow stairwell.

            “Dark, ominous corridors,” Sebastian jokes, “my favorite.”

            “No comment,” Ominis replies, rolling his eyes.

            “Come on, that was a good one!”

            “What’s that?” I ask, as we reach the bottom of the stairs. The floor is covered with shards of stone. “Reparo!”

            Regina suddenly yelps, and Ominis looks around wildly, asking, “What is that?”

            “The rubble formed a relief of a person facing a snake,” Sebastian tells him.

            “That must be the voice we hear,” Ominis fearfully replies. “The voice is ancient- sinister-”

            “You hear a voice?” I ask, puzzled.

            “It started when you repaired that relief. I hear a whisper saying, speak to me.”

            “We’re parselmouths, remember? So this is a bit different for us,” Regina snaps. “Merlin’s beard, you can be so ignorant sometimes.”

            “Don’t talk to her like that,” Sebastian tells her, putting his arm around me protectively. I lean into his side as they glare at each other, feeling like a gallon of galleons- like a shield charm Regina’s words bounce right off, it’s so nice having him stick up for me.  

            “I’d wager if I speak to the door, it will open,” Ominis says, shifting uneasily. “I hope you’re having second thoughts.”

            Regina says, “Yes, we need to leave this place at once,” at the same time Sebastian says, “I see no reason to stop now.”

            Ominis sighs. “It’s ironic. When I left home, I swore to leave the dark arts behind me, and yet, here I am. Stand back.”

            A shiver runs down my spine as he starts hissing at the door. I’ve heard him and Regina speak to each other in Parseltongue so many times, but it’s a thousand times more eerie down here. “You cold?” Sebastian murmurs, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around my shoulders.

            “Thank you,” I whisper back, wishing I could kiss him right now as the door swings open with a massive creaking noise. “Hey, it worked!”

            I follow Sebastian through the door and into a strange tunnel that branches off in multiple directions. “Like a maze,” I note.

            “Salazar Slytherin would have wanted this to be difficult,” Ominis says, “It’s this way.”

            “How do you know?”

            “That’s where my wand is leading me, and it’s never lead me astray,” he says simply, taking Regina’s arm. She hasn’t said a word since he opened the door, but she’s shaking like mad now.

            We find the way blocked by an iron gate with two symbols scratched into the middle. “How do we get past this?” I ask, lighting my wand-tip.

            “There’s something in the wall,” Ominis says, pointing to the left. “What’s that?”

            “It’s a dial, shaped like a snake,” Sebastian says. “It’s got all these symbols on it. I bet that’s how we’re supposed to unlock it.”

            I watch curiously as Regina bends down, starting to twist the dial, then jumps back, crying out. “It bit me!”

            “Are you hurt?” Ominis asks, reaching out for her.

            “Just startled,” she stammers, trembling harder than ever.

            I think I’ve gotten used to exploring strange and potentially dangerous things. The only part about this whole thing that’s scaring is how scared Regina seems to be. Regina, who faced down two giant spiders without flinching. Regina, who can control fiendfyre. Regina, who took care of a dozen inferi. I’ve come to see her as unshakeable. But now…

            Sebastian pulls me aside, whispering, “There’s nothing to worry about. Regina and Ominis are facing personal demons more than anything else. Everything is going to be fine.”
            “Are you sure?” I ask, watching uneasily as he starts to twist the dial, staying focused until he gets it unlocked. “Have you ever seen her like this?”

            “No,” he finally replies, “never. But I promise it’s more to do with stuff that’s happened to her in the past than any present danger.”

            “Like what?”

            “Well… I don’t really know, exactly. She doesn’t ever talk about it, but it’s probably similar to Ominis’s story. If anyone knows, it would be him. I’m not sure.”

            The gate opens and we all squeeze through into a wider corridor with a strange door carved with twisted, agonized faces at the opposite end. “Erm… what’s that?” I ask, feeling my own knees starting to tremble as I point at what looks frighteningly like a skeleton in the opposite corner.

            “Ominis,” Sebastian says, sounding tense, “I think- I think we might have found your aunt.”

            There’s a loud clang, and Regina screams. Sebastian and I whirl around, horrified, to see that the gate we just came through has shut. Regina throws herself against the bars, shaking them, then pulls out her wand, hysterically crying, “Alohamora!”

            “Alohamora!” Sebastian repeats, more steadily.

            Regina rattles the bars again. Nothing happens. She lets out a scream of fury. I stand there, frozen with horror as she throws a wild variety of spells at it, to no avail, until Ominis takes her arm, tugging at her until she stops struggling and clings to his arm.

            “I’m so sorry,” Sebastian apologizes, looking pale. 

            “We’re lo- we’re locked in,” I stammer, feeling all the blood drain from my face.

            Ominis moves his wand from left to right, up, and down, examining the room. I feel a chill deep in my bones as he grimly proclaims, “Then Salazar Slytherin is not yet finished with us.”

Chapter Text

in which the tree grows the way it is bent

Jung-Soon Tae

            “Tae! Tae! I need your help,” Natty calls.

            After Black left to meet her friends, Rosalinde and I had a lovely chat and finished off the rest of the scones. I was almost to the corridor leading to the Hufflepuff common room when Natty ambushed me.

            “What is it?”

            “Officer Singer told my mother what we were up to. She says she wants to speak with me. Will you come with me? I hope she will be easier on me if you are there. I know it is a lot to ask…”

            I wince, imagining how my own mother would react to half the things I get up to here. “Yeah, of course, I don’t mind.”

            I try to think about Eomeoni as little as possible. Jung-Si Seong is a bitter woman who tried to pass her hatred down to me- and she would have succeeded, too, if not for the kindness of the stranger who took me in when I came to England. There were no bombings or sieges in West Yorkshire County, but rather the minefield of prejudice and mistrust. It took a long time to unlearn what I learned from her.

            “You wanted to speak with me, Mother?” Natsai asks, as we approach Professor Onai just below the entrance to the divination classroom.

            “I had hoped to speak to you alone, Natsai,” she sternly says, giving me a look that says I know EXACTLY what you’re up to.

            “Your message mentioned your concern about an unusual creature that was spotted in the woods near Hogsmeade,” Natty says, feigning innocence. “What do you think it was?”

            “You know what it was, Natsai,” Professor Onai hisses.

            “I am allowed to leave the castle! I am always careful, mother.”

            “Careful? Officer Singer disagrees. She sent me an owl telling me that you have been trying to collect evidence of some kind against Dark wizards. She berated me for not keeping a closer eye on you, and she is right. I do not want you visiting Hogsmeade again in the near future.”

            “But, mother!”

            “My little gazelle, you are well-intentioned, but you must not meddle in the affairs of dangerous people.”

            “If someone had meddled in Matabeleland, perhaps Father would still be with us!”

            I stare in shock as Natty stomps off. “Natsai! Come back here!” Professor Onai yells, but Natty makes no attempt to reply. I take a step back as Professor Onai reaches for her wand- oh, no, just her handkerchief. My shoulders feel tense as she dabs a bead of sweat from her brow.     

            “I am sorry you had to see that,” she says, shaking her head. “I understand you have been getting into these scrapes with my child as well. I do not know what your mother would say, but I am sure she would be concerned for your safety.”

            “I shudder to think what she would have said if someone dared lecture her on how she was raising me- probably would have called me an embarrassment and given me a good slating,” I chuckle.

            Professor Onai clicks her tongue. “I know my daughter would not respond to shouting or threats. I would not have it any other way. She will make her own decisions in the end. I only hope to guide her, and make sure she knows how much her mother loves her.”

            “That’s very kind.”

            “Thank you. Now, run along, and see if perhaps you can talk some sense into my child.”

            “I’ll do my best, ma’am,” I promise. “We’re all looking out for her.”

            I head up to Gryffindor Tower to try and talk to Natty. She’s staring into the fireplace, looking very frustrated. I sit down in a red plush armchair next to her and her friend Anna.

            “She never listens to me,” Natty says, resting her chin on her hand.

            “I guess she found out about our scouting expeditions somehow. Well, someone was bound to notice a gazelle running around- they’re not exactly native to around here.”

            Natty nods. “You are lucky your animagus form can disappear at will.”

            “What’s his- ah, their- sorry, Tae- I mean, what’s your Animagus form?” Anna asks, looking embarrassed.

            “It’s alright, it’s the effort that counts,” I assure her, “and I’m a diricawl.”

            “Fascinating. It’s so neat that other countries don’t have regulations on Animagi. I’d love to try it, but I can’t imagine having to register myself with the ministry of magic. My Papa says the ministry’s full of corruption.”

            “Well, we got a taste of that corruption today,” I grumble. “And yeah, self-transfiguration is not taught at Hogwarts, so we are ‘gently discouraged’ from practicing it, but blimey, it’s useful.”

            “Can you choose what form your Animagus will take?” Anna inquires.

            “Oh, no,” Natty chuckles. “A person’s Animagus form is determined by their personality. My mother is convinced that my form is a gazelle because I adapt well to any situation. I believe it is because I can sense danger and keep my wits about me. I love transforming, but Mother is not as enthusiastic about it. She says that any animal- especially one so rare as a gazelle- should not be running around an area where poaching has become so prevalent. She claims that she has foreseen tragedy befall me in my gazelle form, but she has used her Sight to control me too many times. I no longer believe it.”

            “She’s allowed to be concerned for your safety. It may be best for you to stay away from Hogsmeade for now.”

            “That may be safe, but I do not believe it would be best. Do you?”

            When I really stop to think about it, I don’t. I don’t think that would be best at all. Harlowe and Rookwood need to be stopped, and no one else seems willing to do it.

            “My mother cannot know where I am all the time,” Natty says, with a mischievous glint in her eye.

            “If she knew any more about what you’ve done, I suspect she’d be proud,” Anna says.

            Natty shares a look with me before telling her, “If she knew any more about what we’ve done, she’d never let me out of her sight again. But we can’t stop. Tae, you heard Officer Singer. Harlowe has escaped justice once again. Someone has to stop him, whether it is her or us. I meant what I said to my mother, that if someone had stopped the monsters like him back in Matabeleland, my father would be alive today.”

            “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Anna asks, squeezing her friend’s arm.

            Natty nods. “It was a beautiful day. My mother had gone to tend to a neighbor who was ill, so my father and I were galloping across the Savanna.”

            “Galloping? Was he an animagus too?”

            “He could become the most majestic giraffe,” Natty sighs. “He used to carry me on his back, my arms around his neck. We were on our way home when we surprised a group of bandits who had come from the village. One of them saw me just as he had removed his scarf. He shouted and then aimed his rifle, not wanting me to identify him. In an instant, my father bent his neck to protect me and was hit. As he died, he changed back into his human form. The bandits saw this and ran. Magic terrified them. And then he was gone, and it was all my fault. If I had only been capable of protecting myself, he would be alive today. My mother and I tried to go on without him, but it ended up being too much for us there. A few years later, we left and came to Scotland. He and my mother raised me to believe that it is a privilege to fight for those who cannot. I know there is risk involved, but I think it is worth it. He would be glad to know I have a compatriot like you, Tae. You have always been kind to me.”

            “A privilege to fight for those who cannot- that is a beautiful way to put it,” I say, hugging her. “And your mother loves you, you know. We had a nice talk after you left. It almost makes me feel guilty for deciding not to try and stop you from going forward with this.”

            Natty laughs. “You are the best, Tae. I will let you know as soon as I have a plan for our next steps.”

Chapter Text

in which actions speak louder than words

Catherine Harris

                   “We’re going to die in here,” Regina says, sounding close to hysterics. “We are all going to die in here. Are you all happy now?”

                   “I’m so sorry,” Sebastian repeats, squeezing my hand. “You guys were right, this was a bad idea, and I’m so, so sorry.”

                   “Did- did you say you found my aunt?” Ominis asks tremulously. “Is she…”

                   “Yeah,” I tell him, pulling Sebastian over to investigate with me so that he doesn’t have to. “It’s… it’s just her skeleton. I’m so sorry.”

                   Regina throws Sebastian one more nasty glare before setting her fury aside to comfort Ominis. I spot a bit of crumpled parchment in the skeleton’s dusty fist and stoop over, carefully prying it free and unfolding it.

                   “What’s that?” Sebastian asks.

                   “It’s… a note. Ominis’s Aunt wrote this.”

                   “What does it say?” Ominis asks, holding tight to Regina’s arm.

                   I bite my lip, then read it out loud. “I’ve lost hope. I’m locked in. The only way forward is with an unforgivable curse. Even if I wanted to cast it, I’ve no one upon whom to do so. Salazar Slytherin created a malicious challenge indeed. In my last correspondence with my brother, I invited him here. Now, if he looks for me alone, I  will have lead him to his death. Despite our differences, I wish him no ill will. I wish we had parted on better terms. That’s- that’s all. I don’t know what she means by an unforgivable curse, though.”

                   “I think I know,” Sebastian says, grimacing. “The tortured faces on the door- and look there-”

                   Regina gasps. The word CRUCIO is etched in the floor in white-hot letters. “No,” Ominis groans, pacing fretfully.

                   “My guess is-”

                   “Sebastian, don’t-”

                   “The door will only open if-”

                   “Sebastian, please!”

                   “The door will only open if one of us casts the Cruciatus curse on someone,” Sebastian finishes. “That’s why Noctua died. She had no one to cast the curse on.”

                   “I know this is going to sound really awful,” I tentatively begin, “but… well, why couldn’t she have cast Crucio on herself? I mean, wouldn’t it have been better than… well… death?”

                   “You can’t,” Sebastian explains. “It’s like how you’re technically capable of biting your own finger off, but your brain stops you. You have to mean an Unforgivable curse.”

                   “No, you can cast crucio on yourself,” Regina says, sounding pale. “It just takes a really intense level of self-hatred to be able to want to cause yourself pain. Plus, you have to have enough tolerance for it to maintain your concentration, in order to fully cast it.”

                   Sebastian and I share a horrified glance. “I… was not aware of that,” he replies, shifting uneasily, “But one of us is going to have to cast it on someone, and it should be me. I’m the one who lead us here. Ominis, I know this is the last thing you want to do, but-”

                   “Yes, it is!” he snarls, shaking with rage. “I thought you knew me better!”

                   “This is different- I’ve agreed to it, I’m giving you permission, it’s not- it’s not an innocent victim. We have to open the door.”

                   “I will tell you this one more time,” Ominis hisses. “There is nothing- that any of you- could possibly say- to convince me to cast that curse again!”  

                   “Dying in here isn’t exactly a better option!” Sebastian snaps, frustrated.

                    “What do we do now?” I whisper, trembling.

                   “I might know how to cast it,” Sebastian admits. “I’ve read about it, but I’ve never seen it or learned it, obviously. But Ominis has left us no choice other than to follow in his aunt’s footsteps!” he sighs. “I think I can cast it, if I have to.”

                   “I’d rather not- I’d rather not die in here, either. Y-you can cast it on me,” I offer, trying my best to sound brave.

                   “No, you can’t!” Regina suddenly shrieks, coming between us. “You can’t cast it on her, Sebastian, you can’t!”

                   Ominis hurries over as Regina bursts into violent sobs, wrapping his arms around her waist to support her, saying, “She’s right, that’s absolutely out of the question. You are the one who wanted to come here, so you are the one who must take the pain.”

                   “Yes, I agree, that’s completely fair,” Sebastian repeats, huffing. “But if you won’t cast it on me, we still have a problem.”

                   “Maybe I could try casting it on you?” I offer. “Is everyone happy with that?”

                   Ominis pulls Regina to the other side of the room, quietly saying, “If you cast crucio, you will regret it forever.”

                   “We don’t have a choice,” I remind him. “We have to get out of here.”

                   I try not to look at the two of them as Sebastian shows me what he’s pretty sure is the proper wand movement. They’ve retreated to the far side of the room, clinging to each other, all previous conflict forgotten. I take a few steps back, trying not to think about how awful this curse must be, forcing myself to focus on the door. Even Sebastian is starting to look afraid. I take several deep breaths, then raise my wand, point it at him, and firmly declare, “Crucio!”

                   Nothing happens. I try it again, stammering, “Cru- crucio!” Sebastian flinches a little, but still, nothing changes.

                   “I’m sorry,” I say, tucking my wand away. “I don’t think it’s going to work. I tried, I really did.”

                   “It’s okay,” Sebastian replies, squeezing my shoulder. He hesitates, then turns to our friends, unsure what to say.

                   “You can try casting it on me,” I tell him. “I promise it’s okay. We have to get out of here.”

                   “I don’t want to, but if neither of them are willing to budge, I may have no other choice.”

                   I look over at them. Regina eyes me with a strange expression, as bitter as loathing, but… that’s not quite what it is. Then, in a trembling voice, she says, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

                   “Great,” Sebastian says, looking relieved. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

                   I move out of the way as she draws her wand, taking a shuddering breath, but Ominis steps forward, saying, “No. No!”

                   “We have to get out of here,” she insists, shaking so badly that she almost drops her wand.

                   He shakes his head, saying “No. I will cast the curse on Sebastian.”

                   “Ominis,” she whispers, tears springing into her eyes. “You don’t have to-”

                   “It’s okay,” he promises her, kissing her forehead before approaching Sebastian. I take Regina’s arm and we retreat to the other side of the room as Ominis draws his wand.

                   “Swear to me, right now,” he says, trembling, “that you will never engage in anything to do with dark magic or Salazar Slytherin ever again.”

                   “I promise. I understand now what you’ve been trying to tell me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize before- before it came to this.”

                   Ominis nods. Then, he raises his wand, crying, “Crucio!”

                   Sebastian immediately collapses to his knees with an agonized yell. I feel a sudden weight drop on me and realize that Regina fainted just in time to stop her head from hitting the stone floor. Sebastian lets out another scream as the sealed door made of agonized, twisted faces glows a brilliant, angry red, and then melts away, revealing a circular stone chamber with Salazar Slytherin’s faced carved into the wall. Ominis lets his arm fall slack at his side, calling, “Are you- are you alright?”

                   “I’m okay,” Sebastian groans, wobbling as he gets to his feet. He stumbles forward and embraces his friend, whispering, “That pain- I would have done anything to make it stop.”

                   Ominis just nods, seemingly unable to say anything, then crosses the room to where I’m still struggling to hold Regina up. “She’s fainted,” I gasp, relieved when he takes her from me, scooping her limp form up into his arms. I feel sick to my stomach. I join Sebastian in the chamber beyond the doorway, asking, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

                   “I’m alive,” he replies quietly. “I- I could never have done that you. It wouldn’t have worked if I had tried it, either.”

                   I don’t know how to reply to that. I don’t know know why it didn’t work when I tried it- but I also do. I didn’t mean it at all. I couldn’t, no matter how much I wanted to. I don’t know if I can even comprehend that kind of pain. I don’t know anything at all.

                   “We need to find a way out of here,” Ominis orders, as Regina starts to come to. “What’s that over there?”

                   There’s a square section of stone that doesn’t quite seem to fit into the wall. I try pushing on it, and it gives way, part of it moving forward and part of it moving back, swiveling around the center. “I think it leads back to the corridor before the maze,” I call. “It only rotates one way, so we couldn’t have gotten in this way, but we can get out.”          

                   “Perfect. Thank you, Miss Harris. Now come on.”

                   I start to follow him out, then turn back. “Sebastian? What is that?”

                   He’s holding a dusty leather tome with an uncertain expression. “Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook, I think,” he replies. “It’s… it’s what I came for, but… I don’t know.”

                   “You better hurry up and decide,” Ominis snaps.

                   Sebastian stares around at us, as if he’s waiting for someone to tell him not to. “I don’t know,” he repeats, furrowing his brow. “It might be better to leave it. But I might change my mind. All I know is that I never want to come down here again, so… I guess I better take it.”

                   We make our way out of the scriptorium, back up the stairwell, and into the dimly lit dungeon corridor, sealing the entrance to the scriptorium behind us. Part of me feels strangely disconnected from the regular world, as if there’s no coming back from what I’ve just witnessed.

                   “I want you to take this,” Sebastian tells Ominis, holding out the spellbook. “I think I finally see what you guys have been trying to tell me. Whatever’s in here… shouldn’t be meddled with. Just… stash it somewhere, for safekeeping.”

                   Ominis considers him, then accepts the book, grumbling, “It’s not like I can even read it, so what harm could it do?”

                   “Thank you.”

                   “I don’t want to go back to my dormitory,” Regina whispers, looking pale and sick.

                   “We’ll find somewhere else to rest,” Ominis assures her, leading her away.

                   “What about you? Are you alright?” Sebastian asks me, as they disappear around the corner.

                   “I think so,” I tell him. “But I’d like to get some rest. I think it must be pretty late anyways.”

                   “Yeah. Come on. I’ll walk you back to our common room.”

Chapter Text

in which it is easy to be wise after the event

Camden Town, London, Fall 1886

Dear Miz Brown,

            I am sorrie to bother you so soon after we partde, but I am afrayd I must ask you a favor. Please tell the Ministrie that they must find a home for me amung our kinde. Three tymes this week I have caused an acksident and I am sertan that it is my magick. I know the Departmint of Magickal Wellfair sez I am a squibb, but Mister and Mizzus Parr begin to suspeckt that I am a witch. Mizzus Parr must hold something she calls a crusificks when speaking to me and they force me to attend mass on Saturdays. She blames me for all her little children getting sick, but I cannot be the cause of that, though I mighte have made her hand burn and a shoe float and broken a glass as well. Our flat is full of dirt and rats and I am expected to watch four little children every day from sun-up to sun-down while the Mister and Mizzus work at something the muggles call a facktorie, where they make things without magick, and I cannot walk down the street without being afrayd, I have never known such mean folk as the ones who live next door.  They all call me a “devil’s childe” since I have not been “baptyzed,” whatever that means, I am afrayd they mean to do it to me. I can earn my keep, I can sell newspapers and flowers like the children on Colombia Road, but please, take me back or find someone else who is willing to. The muggle healers are terribul, they use leeches to take your blood when you are sick and it hurts so bad. I tryed to ecksplain why that is a terribul idea but I was only laft at. Please help me, Miz, I will do anything to get out of here.

Regina Amalthea Black    

            “You were right. That was a terrible idea,” Ominis says, half-heartedly picking at the ancient cover of Slytherin’s spellbook. 

            I stare at the crackling fire, feeling no satisfaction at all. I’d rather listen to Professor Binns at his most dreadful dullness than deal with the torrent of memories sloshing through my achy head right now. We ended up seeking shelter in the Room of Requirement, which seems to have returned to its rightful state, but there’s not much to preoccupy myself with. I know Ominis has to be dealing with the same thing, but he at least kept it together in front of everyone. 

“That thing is evil.” 

            “I know,” he says, “I’m just glad Sebastian finally understands.” 

            “Does he, though?” I ask, glaring at the leather tome. “Just- just toss it in the fireplace.”

            Ominis turns the spellbook over in his hands, looking uncertain. “He might forget about it, but I wouldn’t count on it. Let’s say we do burn it. What do I say when he asks about it?”

            “Just pretend you can’t find it or something, I don’t care. It’s evil, Ominis. We have to destroy it.” 

            “I don’t think he’d believe that, I’m far too careful to misplace anything,” he says. But after a minute, he drops the book into the fireplace anyways. The flames dart up around it, the corners blackening and curling inwards. There’s no unusual reaction, no odd smell, as it gradually turns to ash. 

“It seems like something is bothering you still,” I note, as he continues to pace. “You can talk to me, too, you know.” 

Ominis sighs, slumping down on the opposite end of the sofa. “At least I used to think that anyone would be able to cast that curse under pressure, but that doesn't seem to be true at all.” 

“She wasn't under that much pressure," I reply, bile rising in my stomach. 

“We all thought we were going to be stuck down there, is that not pressure enough? And it doesn't have anything to do with age or skill, I was barely eleven when Marvolo- when he- and you couldn't have been much older when-” 

“Stop,” I snap, more harshly than I meant. I tug him toward me, more gently saying, “Don't go down this road, it won't do any good.” 

“I know, I just can't help wondering… what if there's just something wrong with me?” He mutters miserably. 

“No, there is not,” I insist, wrapping my arms around his neck. “She’s never had it cast on her, that's all, how can you mean a kind of pain you don't even understand? There is nothing wrong with you.” 

"Thank you," he murmurs, leaning his head on my shoulder as I stroke his hair. "Is the book gone?" 

I glance over into the fireplace. "Yes. It's gone."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling a keen sense of relief. It’s over. Now all I have to do is make sure that Sebastian and Miss Harris- Kitty, I mean- never see me so vulnerable again. I focus on the anger building in the pit of my stomach as a dozen plans start to form in my mind.

“Stay here with me,” Ominis says, tugging me into his lap. The cold, hard feeling in my gut softens as he wraps his arms around my waist, curling one leg around mine.

            “I’m not going anywhere.” 

            “You know what I mean. You have all these walls you like to hide behind in your mind- don’t think I don’t notice you slipping away. I want you here with me.” 

            “Fine,” I grumble, relenting. I don’t know what he means- he has a terrible habit of talking like he’s in a book sometimes, but books were all he had for company before coming to Hogwarts, so I suppose that’s to be expected. His arms around me are keeping the past at bay for the moment, but we can’t stay here forever. That would be nice, though, I think, as he gently touches my face, running a gloved palm across my forehead. I close my eyes as his fingers move down my brow and nose.

“I love you,” he suddenly says, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. “I think I’ve felt that way for a long time, but I wanted to be sure before I said anything, that I would always put you first. Tonight… when I- when I cast that curse again…” 

            “I love you too, Ominis,” I reply, pulling his face down toward mine and kissing his cheek. “I’ve felt that way for a long time, too, and I- I’m so sorry that you had to-"

"Shh, don't apologize," he murmurs, a fraction of an inch separating his lips from mine. "I'd do it again for you, love."

There's a burning feeling in my gut as we share a hungry, greedy kiss. I clench a fistful of his robes as he bites down on my bottom lip, running a finger down the length of my neck. There’s something different here, whether it’s the weight of our confessions or the feeling of total privacy, I’m not sure, but it’s enough to make us both wild. He runs his lips down the side of my neck then up the length of my arm, letting my sleeves fall down to my elbows. I feel breathless as he lingers along the hem of my glove, pressing kisses to the underside of my wrist. I wrap my other arm around his shoulder as he murmurs, “may I take these off?” toying with the tight silky material.

“Yes,” I gasp, burying my face in his shoulder as he starts to tug off my gloves one at a time before removing his own, and slowly, slowly, presses his trembling palms against mine.

Oh. Oh. His hands are so warm and soft, curling around mine, interlocking with my fingers, tracing my knuckles. A whimper escapes my throat as he lifts my hands to his lips and kisses my bare skin, rubbing his thumbs on my wrists. Then, with a wicked grin, he takes my pinky finger into his mouth and starts gently sucking on it. Oh. My whole body throbs with longing as he takes each of my fingers one at a time until I’m trembling all over.

“Ominis… Ominis…”

“Perhaps we should slow down,” he murmurs, gently kissing my lips before wrapping his arms around my middle and pulling me into a tight embrace. I rest my head on his chest, trying to catch my breath a little.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him, as his face suddenly twists into a smile.

“Something Mr. Ollivander told me a long time ago,” he replies, massaging my shoulders. “He said, ‘You may not be made for the light, but there is comfort in the shadows as well.’”

“Typical Mr. Ollivander- absurdly cryptic,” I murmur, tracing his cheek. There’s something so different about the feel of his skin under my fingertips, no gloves coming in between us… I wish it could be like this all the time.

“I think I get it now,” he muses, running one hand through my hair, which is starting to come completely undone and for once I don’t mind at all. “I remember my first time on the Hogwarts Express- I was so scared and overwhelmed. The world was so full of sunshine and laughter and happiness that I could never see or be a part of. And then you drew me in with your beautiful shadows-”

“By threatening to hex you if you didn’t get out of my compartment immediately,” I laugh.

“You had a snake!” he protests, chuckling. “What exactly were you expecting?”

“To scare everyone away, I suppose. Very well, I see your point. We understand each other so well because we’ve seen the same darkness. We- Oh, Ominis, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, is it alright?” he asks, pulling his hand away from my tangled hairpins.

“Go ahead,” I tell him, cuddling into his chest. It takes him a long time to take them all out, setting them one by one on a table by the sofa that may or may not have been there before. It was already quite late, almost midnight, when we arrived here, but I wasn’t expecting to hear the clock telling us that it is well past one in the morning.

“Should we go back to our dormitories?” he reluctantly asks. “We have prefect patrol at three anyways…”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get any sleep. Let’s just stay here until then…”

“I think I might sleep for a little bit,” he decides, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his chin into my shoulder. My own eyelids are starting to feel heavy, and the sleepier I get, the more this sofa starts to feel like a bed, with fluffy down-pillows beneath our heads and a soft quilt covering us. Even if I wanted to leave the warmth, I don’t think I’d have the willpower to make it happen. I’ve never felt so safe, so peaceful in my life… just a little bit of sleep…

Chapter Text

in which money talks

Regina Amalthea Black

The next thing I know, there’s sunlight and birdsong and Ominis is kissing me awake, murmuring, “Morning, love,” his warm fingers on my neck. Miraculously, my headache’s gone, though the arm I wrapped around his middle feels a little tight. I try to shift some of the weight off it, nestling into his side.

            “We missed our prefect duty,” I sigh. “Father’s going to kill me.”

            “Oh, bloody hell,” Ominis groans. “That reminds me. I’m going to have to go to Hoarfrost.”

            “Your family’s estate? Why?”

            “Aunt Noctua was never legally declared dead,” he explains, burying his face in my shoulder. “I don’t think my father ever wanted to acknowledge that she was really gone. He raised her practically from infancy, you know. I think it was too hard for him, so he said they couldn’t execute her will without any proof that she was really dead, though I think that she was technically considered dead after a certain period of time.”
            “And now you’ll have to give testimony as proof. Oh, Ominis. I’m coming with you.”

            “You don’t have to-”

            “I go where you go, love. Even when you’re being an utter fool,” I promise, kissing him. “That’s probably what I meant by whatever I said outside the dungeons last night.”

            “Thank you, my love. What time is it, anyways?” He squints at the grandfather clock on the wall. “Oh, goodness, it’s half past seven. We need to go down before we miss breakfast.”

            “Ominis, we can’t go down dressed like this! This is our evening wear, and it’s what we were wearing last night, our friends will think- oh, thank Merlin,” I sigh, as a wardrobe and dressing-screen pops up on the opposite side of the room. We take turns changing into dusky purple morning clothes, I pin my hair back up, and then we head downstairs arm-in-arm to join our friends at the breakfast table.

            Sebastian jumps up, looking worried, and asks, “Are you alright? I’m so, so sorry I put you guys through that.”

            “We’re fine,” Ominis assures him, as we take a seat and start filling our plates. “I’m just glad that we all made it out of there. And I’m glad to finally know what happened to my aunt.”

            “Looks like you guys made up?” Kitty asks hopefully, glancing between us. It’s hard to stay angry with her for long, besides, I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well in my life. I don’t think I had a single nightmare last night. “We have,” I assure her, squeezing Ominis’s arm. He gives me a grateful smile.

            As soon as we finish eating, we head back to our dormitories to change to go to Hoarfrost. I put on my best black velvet gown and add a decorative corset like a golden ribcage, my nicest black travelling hat and gloves, and a string of pearls. I join Ominis in the common room, looking rather dashing in an ebony waistcoat, and we walk down past the castle’s front gate to apparate to the other side of the country.

            New Forest in Hampshire County is known for having lots of snakes. Adders, grass snakes, and even the occasional odd snake that looks like it shouldn’t belong here. In the Wizarding community, it’s also known as the location of Serpendale, a hamlet where at least half of the old Pureblood families own land. If we took a right at the park, it would lead to Wynrough, the house I grew up in, but instead we continue down the lane and finally take a left toward the largest estate in the area: Hoarfrost.

            “Master Ominis! We is not expecting you,” squeaks the house-elf that answers the door. “Jeeney will tell the Master and Missus that you is here!”

             “Ominis?” Alessandra Gaunt is standing at the end of the hallway, with an expression of pleasant surprise. “What are you doing here, my son?”

            “Good afternoon, Mother. Is Father home? I need to speak with him,” Ominis replies, helping me out of my coat.

            “He is, but I’m afraid he’s rather busy at the moment. Why did you not tell us you meant to come?”

            “It’s all happened rather suddenly, I’m afraid. You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

            Mrs. Gaunt frowns slightly at this, but quickly resumes her pleasant expression. “Well, then, I’ll see if he can make time for you. Why don’t you two refresh yourselves? Jeeney, take Miss Black up to the Lotus Room. You can both join us in the drawing room when you are ready. Pandora is visiting with the twins.”

            Ominis squeezes my hand, then we part ways. I follow Jeeney up the stairs to a magnificent room with white-flowered wallpaper. I take a few minutes to fix up my hair and then relax in an armchair until Ominis knocks on the door.

            “Come on,” he says, actually sounding excited. “You can meet my niece and nephew.”

            I chuckle a little when I remember the last time I was in the drawing room here- one second, Ominis was clenching his fist, trying to hold back his anger, then the next he was doubled over with laughter as his elder brother flopped around on the floor, yelling in terror. Marvolo jumps up from his seat by the fire when we enter, looking startled. I give him my haughtiest sniff before sharing a gracious smile with Mrs. Gaunt and Ominis’s older sister, Mrs. Lestrange. Then there’s a shriek of delight, and two tiny humans with bobbing blonde heads toddle across the room and throw their little arms around Ominis’s legs. He gets down on his knees to hug them back, laughing, then stands back up, saying, “Regina, dear, these are the twins, Ambrose and Valentina. Am, Tina, this is Miss Black.”

            They quickly pick themselves up, giving me matching bashful grins, which I return with a friendly wave. Then the drawing room door opens, and then Mr. Gaunt is standing there.

            “Father. That was… faster than I expected.”

            “You barely spent three weeks here this summer, you haven’t come here for Christmas since you were twelve, and you show up unannounced on this particular weekend. Suffice it to say I was curious,” Mr. Gaunt sharply replies. “What is going on?”

            “We found Slytherin’s Scriptorium, and… and proof of Aunt Noctua’s demise.”

            Mr. Gaunt stares at his son for a long moment, then finally says, “Right. I will send for the solicitor.”

            He starts to leave the room, but Mrs. Gaunt clears her throat, saying, “Orpheus, Miss Black is here as well.”

            He turns back for a brief second, giving me a mostly cordial nod, and then exits. Marvolo jumps up and slinks off after him, looking sulky. Unfazed, I sit down on the loveseat next to Ominis, who is entertaining the twins with snake puppets.

            “You’ll have to excuse him, Miss Black, I think he was expecting an apology for that nasty business with our oldest son.”

            “Understandable, however, he is not going to get one.”

            “Well, I for one am delighted to see a young woman with such spirit,” Mrs. Gaunt laughs. “And I was not terribly bothered. Marvolo gets enough favoritism from his father, he does not need any from me. My daughters and I, Miss Black, are as close as a cult, you see, but every parent has their weakness. I simply dote upon my little Onyx. Did he not want to come and see me, Ominis?”

            “I did not have an opportunity to ask him, Mother.”

            “I do hope you are looking out for your younger brother and sisters at school, Ominis- well, not looking out, but I daresay you know what I mean.”

            I choose not to return her smile this time, instead moving closer to Ominis and slipping an arm around his shoulder. He relaxes a little, as Valentina picks up the puppet he dropped, demanding, “Snake! Snake!” What is it about him playing with the twins that’s so attractive? Is it the way it makes me dream about the future? Well, this isn’t exactly the place to be spoony, so I had better keep a grip on myself.

            Finally, the solicitor arrives, and we all go down to the main parlor to meet him. Ominis and I sit across from his parents and brother, while Pandora retires to the nursery with the twins.

            “Tell Mr. Holland exactly what happened,” Mr. Gaunt orders. “Leave nothing out.”

            Ominis nods, looking a more than a little uncomfortable. “On Friday night, we found the entrance to Slytherin’s Scriptorium-”

            “Who’s we? And how did you find it?”

            “I-” he takes a deep breath and starts over. “Three of my friends and I, Miss Regina Black, Mr. Sebastian Sallow, and Miss Catherine Harris-”

            “Harris? Who on earth is that? I have never heard of any family called Harris.”

            “She’s Sebastian’s friend, father. I am not closely associated with her, but she is in Slytherin, so that should speak to her heritage enough. It was Sebastian who wanted to find it after I made the mistake of telling him about its existence. I… I knew of the entrance from having accidentally overheard the contents of my Aunt Noctua’s last letter to my father many years ago. Against my better judgement, I agreed to show my friends the entrance. We opened the secret door by lighting three particular braziers in the dungeon corridor. Behind that was a second door which required me to speak Parseltongue in order to open it. That door lead to a maze, which we found our way through, and entered the final chamber leading to the scriptorium. When we entered this chamber, the door sealed behind us, trapping us. It was there that we encountered the- the remains of my Aunt Noctua, which we were able to identify by a signed note on this piece of parchment.”

            “How did you get out?” Mr. Holland asks, taking the parchment from Ominis and examining it.

            “There was a strange door on the opposite end of the corridor, and my friends discovered the word “Crucio” inscribed in the floor,” Ominis replies, shifting anxiously. I take his trembling hand as he continues, “If you read the note, it explains how the only way through the strange door was to cast the Cruciatus curse. Because Aunt Noctua had gone in alone, she had no one to cast the curse upon.”

            “So she would have been trapped and eventually died of starvation. You say this door was strange, how so?”

            “It- it seemed off, somehow…”

            “What did it look like?”

            “I-”

            “Dammit, Holland, my son is obviously blind. I do not have time to waste on such foolish questions!”

            “My apologies, sir.”

            Mr. Gaunt nods. “Well, you obviously got out alive, so which of you cast the Cruciatus curse? This stays off the record, of course,” he adds, passing a clinking bag, probably full of galleons, to Mr. Holland.

            “I did,” Ominis tells him, squeezing my hand tight. “I cast it upon my friend Sebastian. The door opened, and we found ourselves in the Scriptorium. After that, the way out was easier.”

            “Hm. Well done,” Mr. Gaunt says, sounding mildly impressed. “I never would have expected it from you, but you do manage to surprise me occasionally. And well done on you and your friend for taking care of it for the ladies. You’ve made me proud today.”

            “Must be easy to exceed expectations when there are none,” Marvolo sneers.

            I glare at him, snapping, “I don’t see you finding any secret scriptoriums.”

            It only gets worse when the solicitor finally brings out Noctua Gaunt’s will. Upon discovering that his aunt left nearly everything to him, Ominis looks like he might start crying in front of his family. As soon as it’s over I thank them and make up some excuse to get him out of there. The second the front door closes behind us, he lets out a choked sob.

            “Come on,” I urge, wrapping my arm around his waist. “Let’s get away from here.”

            Instead of apparating back to the castle, I take him to a quiet place by the coast where he can let his sorrow out in private. We sit on the grassy cliffside, listening to the waves crash somewhere below, the cry of the gulls overhead, and the sound of the wind on the rocks.

            “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” He leans his head on my shoulder, wretchedly saying, “The only time my father says he’s proud of me, it’s for- for doing that. I hate it. I hate it.”

            “Forget him. I’m proud of you every day. You always try to do the right thing even though no one taught you how. You think you have too much bad in you, but you have the most good in you out of anybody I know. Most people who seem good are just naïve. You choose to be soft in a world that wants to destroy that in you. That’s not weakness, that’s a strength that even I don’t have.”

            “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing that spot behind my ear that makes me feel dizzy. “Let’s get back home now, my love.”

Chapter Text

in which a bad workman blames his tools

Jung-Soon Tae

            The next week passes by quickly yet uneventfully. Natty seems to have hit a dead end as to what her next move should be, and anyways, the teachers are swamping the fifth years with homework in preparation for their O.W.L.s as much as they’re swamping us for our N.E.W.T.s. I was looking forward to finally having a lie-down Saturday, but naturally, these happy plans had to be put aside.

            “So what is going on, exactly?”

            “Apparently Percival Rackham’s portrait made his way from his painting in the Map Chamber to Professor Fig’s office to ask him to bring us all down here as soon as possible,” Kitty explains. “He wouldn’t say what, just that he needed us for something.”

            “Do you think he has another trial for us?” Rosalinde asks nervously. “I don’t think I’ve improved much since the last one.”

            “These things take time,” Black reminds her, as we make our way down the staircase into the map chamber. “Well, what have we here?”

            Percival Rackham is standing in his frame as usual.  The frames to the far right and far left are still empty, but the frame to his right is now taken up by the short, squat wizard we saw in the pensieve- the one called Professor Rookwood.

            “-would be wise not to underestimate these students,” Professor Fig is saying to the portraits as we approach.

            “There really are four of you,” the new wizard muses. “Professor Charles Rookwood at your service. So, you all completed the first trial?”

            “That’s correct, Professor Rookwood,” Black replies.

            “I saw you in the pensieve at Gringotts,” Kitty chimes in, “And in the restricted section, and we all saw you in the pensieve after the last trial as well.”

            “Ahem. I have spoken with Charles regarding the urgent situation with the goblins,” Professor Rackham informs us. “Have you been able to learn anything regarding the motives of the goblin Ranrok?”

            “We spoke to a goblin named Lodgok and helped him recover a goblin-made helmet for him to use to gain Ranrok’s trust. He has agreed to help us spy on Ranrok. While I haven’t heard anything back from him yet, he did mention that he thinks Ranrok might be looking for something.”

            “I feared as much,” Professor Rookwood sighs. “I’ve been hearing an unusual amount of activity when visiting my portrait at my castle.”

            “Rookwood Castle?” Black asks sharply.

            “My former residence, yes. That castle is also the location of the next trial.”

            “Did you happen to see anything, or speak with anyone?”

            “I did not. In fact, I did not make myself known. I only returned there recently and did not recognize or trust anyone I heard. I stayed out of sight so as not to tempt my portrait’s destruction.”

            “Well, we have some unfortunate news for you, then,” Black tells him. “The wizard currently residing there, Mr. Victor Rookwood- evidently your descendant- is devoted to the Dark Arts and also seems to be in league with Ranrok.”         

            “My descendant, a dark wizard?” Professor Rookwood frets. “I am afraid there is no time to waste. Despite the obstacles that clearly await you, you must get to Rookwood Castle immediately. Not only is it the location of the next trial, it is also home to a source of power that would be devastating in the wrong hands. I do wish we had the luxury of time, however, I do not doubt your abilities. Go there and find my portrait as soon as you can.”

            “No time to waste, then. Why don’t you all change and meet me at Rookwood Castle?” Professor Fig suggests.

            “Where is it?” I ask.

            “Near Feldcroft,” Black replies, biting her lip. “The goblins showed up two years ago, in the summer. They’ve had plenty of time to find that source of power. It could even be where Ranrok is getting his power from. We’ll need to be very careful in how we approach it, because these… these goblins in particular aren’t afraid to cause us harm.”

            For some reason, Kitty tries to pat Black on the shoulder, but the older girl slaps her hand away with an irritated glare. Kitty looks disappointed but unsurprised as Professor Fig says, “I will stay with you as long as I am allowed. We will all look out for each other. Now, why don’t you hurry and get changed for a bit of an adventure?”

            We try to be more discreet as we leave the castle, as some people have started to notice something. Florence and Junius have definitely noticed that Black and I seem to be on more civil terms, at least. I won’t be able to dodge their questions much longer. Once we’re outside the castle walls, Black describes our destination, and we all apparate to a circle of trees on the hillside of Rookwood Castle. Has she been here before? Why?

            “There’s a way in, besides the front gate,” she whispers. “It was abandoned up until the goblins came here two summers ago. I snuck in here with my friends one summer, a long time ago.”

            “Sounds fun.”

 “It was foolish. We were lucky there was no one here. Anyways, this is it. Goodness… that looks a lot smaller than I remember,” she mutters. “Kitty, why don’t you go first?”

“Sure,” Kitty says, getting on her hands and knees and rapidly wiggling through the small crevice in the bricks. I end up going next, transforming into my diricawl form and waddling through. Rosalinde just barely makes it through, getting a little stuck, and Black decides to try using an Undetectable Extension Charm on the crack before she and Professor Fig come through.

“Excellent work, my dear,” he beams, brushing off his knees. “Now we just need to-”

“Shh!” I hiss, quickly using the disillusionment charm on myself. The others follow suit as the sound of arguing voices draws nearer.

“If I’d known your plan was to dig up half the country-”

“I wouldn’t have to dig if you could simply manage to bring me that child.”

Ranrok and Victor Rookwood are circling the courtyard, glaring at each other. “We wouldn’t need the child if you hadn’t sent a dragon to retrieve the container I spent months and countless ministry favors tracking,” Rookwood spits.

“You let that fool board the carriage. My options were limited once I knew it would be inconveniently beyond my reach at that infernal school!”

“Haven’t you acquired enough power here? I have allowed you to tunnel under my family home-”

“Allowed me? You are here only because you are descended from a Keeper and may inadvertently become useful at some point. We had an agreement: I will share with you the power I discovered if you locate the stores of magic that are yet to be found. So unless you want another demonstration of the power you hope to someday wield, bring me the child.”

Rookwood glares for a long moment, then disapparates. Ranrok growls in frustration and stalks off in the opposite direction. So, he’s digging for stores of magic, eh? And how does he know about the Keepers?

“We have to get into that castle,” Black mutters, “and we need to be very careful to avoid confrontation of any sort. I definitely don’t fancy an altercation with Ranrok quite yet.”

“Yet?”

“Well, we’ll obviously have to stop him at some point, won’t we? But some of us have a bit more to learn first.”

            “Do you know the way inside the castle?” Fig whispers.

            “I do. Rosalinde, link arms with me and then Tae. Kitty, link arms with Tae, and then Professor Fig, you link arms with Kitty and bring up the rear. Very slowly and quietly now. Come on.”

            She casts several muffling charms over our group and then we make our way across the overgrown courtyard and up a set of stairs, along the wall, and then into an open archway. We carefully pick our way down a dilapidated set of wooden stairs on the inside of the castle, which seems to be empty.

            “There!” Kitty whispers. I can’t see where she’s pointing, but I think I know what she’s pointing at- across the hall is a door made out of the crystal material we keep seeing everywhere- and it’s already partially open.

            “I don’t remember seeing that before,” Black hisses. “I think there was a tapestry in front of it- yes, look, they must have taken it down.”

            “Come on, let’s see what’s on the other side,” Kitty whispers, stumbling forward.

            We squeeze through the door single-file into what apparently used to be a spacious cellar, now a gaping cave. There are shovels and pickaxes and wagons of dirt littered everywhere, but no goblins anywhere. The whole cavern is filled with eerie red light coming from a strange silver object at the end of the tunnel.

            “What is that?” Kitty gasps, staring at the orb of twisted goblin silver. Ancient magic seems to seep out of it, forming in gloopy pools on the ground, all glowing a sinister red.

            “This must be the store of magic Professor Rookwood mentioned, and the source of Ranrok’s power,” Black grimly concludes.

            “It looks empty,” I note, “but if they’ve taken all of it, why are they still here?”

            “Ranrok said there was more to be found,” Rosalinde reminds us. “It may be located here. They probably think so, at least. We need to find Professor Rookwood’s portrait, remember?”

            “Over here,” Professor Rookwood’s voice calls, very faintly.

            We discover a goblin-sized hole leading into a hidden office, which was evidently ransacked a long time ago. Luckily, Professor Rookwood’s portrait seems to have escaped any damage. “I thought that was you I heard,” he sighs, relieved. “I’m almost afraid to ask what state my castle is in…”

            “They’ve dug a massive tunnel in the cellar, a good ten meters wide and five tall, nearly half a kilometer long, and broken open some sort of container,” Black informs him.

            “No!” he gasps, clutching his gaudy velvet hat. “Things are more dire than I could have imagined. They have somehow learned- but it cannot be. Percival said you told him that you found a goblin wielding a powerful magic in his vault?”

            “The same goblin we saw here today,” Professor Fig confirms.

            “Ranrok used the term “Keeper” as well,” Rosalinde adds. “That is the name you and the other Professors designated yourselves, yes? How did he find out about that?”

            “I do not know, but we will have to discuss it later. Right now, you must focus on your next trial,” Professor Rookwood sighs. “The power you stand to wield must first be fully understood. Power without knowledge is dangerous indeed. In the wrong hands… we will simply have to outwit Ranrok- and my unfortunate namesake.”

            “Where do we need to go?” I ask.

            “I shall reveal the path, but Professor Fig must leave you now.”

            “Will Ranrok be able to find us once we begin the trial?” Kitty asks.

            “He should not, but I cannot say for sure,” Professor Rookwood admits. “There is much we do not know.”

            “Well, if he understands anything about politics at all, he won’t touch me,” Black sniffs. “I am sure he is clever enough to realize that the people turning a blind eye to him now would no longer do so if he harmed a daughter of the Black family. So if we do run into him, I shall do my best to keep you all from harm.”

            “I shall await your return in the map chamber,” Professor Fig promises. “I am so very proud of all of you.”

            Once he disapparates, Professor Rookwood directs us to a spot in the wall that transforms into a magical archway. We enter a tall crystalline chamber much like the first trial. There’s another archway in the center of the room, and the only other way out of the room seems to be a doorway much too high for any of us to reach. We decide to ignore that one and walk through the archway.

            “Wait, what?” Kitty sputters. The archway is full of shimmering blue ancient magic, as if it was meant to lead us somewhere new, but here we are, still in the same room. I turn over my shoulder and see that from this side, the archway seems to be glowing red. Rosalinde walks around the archway to stare at it from the side we came through, examining every detail.

            “Is there any way to climb up there?” Kitty asks, pointing at the doorway.

            “No, the walls are definitely too smooth.”

            “Guys,” Rosalinde calls, “Something’s different, look!”

            As I walk around to join her, I notice that there is now a platform on top of the archway. If we could somehow get onto that platform, we could walk across it straight to the doorway, but it’s too high as well.

            Kitty comes back through the archway, then stares, puzzled. “I don’t see anything.”

            “You don’t see that platform?”

            “Platform?”

            “I think you can only see it if you’re on that side of the archway,” Rosalinde suggests. “Not literally standing on that side, but… it’s like there’s two near-identical rooms occupying the same space. When we walked through the archway, we entered a different room. The platform is in this room. Kitty went back to the first room when she walked back through.”

            Kitty crosses through the archway again, then walks around it to join us, saying, “I can see it now, so you must be right!”

            “There’s still no way to get up there,” Black points out. “That’s what we need to figure out.”

            “What’s that?” Kitty asks, pointing across the room to a strange cube made of twisty metal. “Accio!”

            It zooms across room toward her. Rosalinde waves her wand over it, examining it, then says, “I think it takes a different form in the other room.”

            Kitty uses wingardium leviosa, to float it through the archway, where it immediately drops to the ground. Looking at it through the archway, it looks exactly the same, but looking at it from the side, it seems to have turned to tall pillar made of golden grates perfectly slotted for climbing up.

            “We could use that to climb onto the platform,” I suggest. But when I try to use Accio to position it next to the platform, it doesn’t budge. “Er… maybe you can only move it when it’s in the other form?”

            “Okay,” Rosalinde says, tugging on a strand of her auburn hair. “Alright. When we first entered the room- room one- it was a pillar. We went through to room two, and we saw it as a cube that we can move. But now it’s also in room two, and it’s a pillar again. Perhaps we have to be in the opposite room in order to move it?”

            Black crosses through the archway and tries to move it, but nothing happens. “You’re already on that side of the archway,” Rosalinde calls. “I think I’ve got it. We need to bring it back through the archway to room one in order to move it, then we need to go back through the opposite side of the archway like Kitty did in order to see it as a pillar then climb it.”

            “Well then, what are you waiting for?”

            Rosalinde blushes, taking out her wand and stands in front of the archway. The pillar looks like a cube on the other side. She summons it back through, then moves it around the archway and places it next to the edge of the platform. We all go to the other side of the archway, to the side that’s glowing a faint red, and walk back through into the first room.

            “It worked- Nicely done, Rosalinde!”

            We easily climb the side of the pillar, sticking our feet and hands between the square golden grates, haul ourselves onto the platform, stepping over the crack between the platform and the doorway. I’m not at all surprised to find that the next room contains yet another pensieve. We huddle around it and prepare to view the memory inside.

            Professor Rookwood, Professor Rackham, and another wizard and witch I don’t recognize- these must be the other two Keepers- are approaching the front door of a cottage, which is answered by the young woman from the last pensieve, Isidora Morganach. “Do come in,” she urges, a little too eagerly. “Please, have a seat.”

            “I must say, I’m curious to hear about your travels,” Professor Rackham says.

            I watch, bemused, as Isidora pulls out her wand and a small glass jar, standing in the doorway of another room and gently calling, “We’re ready. I’ve something to show you,” she stammers, turning back to the Keepers. As a very grey-faced man comes through the doorway, she adds, “Father, these are my colleagues from Hogwarts.”

            Her father briefly glances at the Keepers before wordlessly sitting down before the fire. “Father hasn’t spoken a word since my brother died,” Isidora sadly explains. I remember her mentioning that in the last memory. She wanted to-

            “On my travels, I confirmed that which I always believed: that we have the power to take away pain,” she explains, eyes glinting in the firelight.

            “Isidora,” Professor Rackham calls warningly, as she points her wand at her father’s chest. There’s a strange whispering noise in the air, and he gasps as swirls of ancient magic, blue mixed with red, emerges from his chest. Isidora stores it in the glass jar, screwing the lid on tight.

            “This is uncharted magic, Isidora,” Rackham says. All the Keepers get to their feet. “You can only see what has been sealed in that jar, and we do not know what power that may hold. But the traces of magic are different than what I’ve seen before.”

            But Isidora is not listening to a word they say. All her attention is fixed on her father as he clasps her hand, whispering, “Thank you.” A look of pure joy spreads across her face.

            Rackham examines the ancient magic in the jar with a grave expression. It is slowly turning red, just like the magic from the container that Ranrok and Victor Rookwood broke into.

            “Oh, Isidora,” he murmurs sadly, “What have you done?”

Chapter Text

in which big fish eat little fish

Jung-Soon Tae

``            “Did you see that?” Kitty gasps. “She did it! She took away his pain! It worked! Oh, I told you so! I wonder how she did it, though?”

            “Kitty, we still have yet to see the consequences,” Black reminds her, exasperated. “We saw her do something, but we don’t know what she really did or the effect it had on him.”

            “Isidora said that her father hadn’t spoken a single word in years, he didn’t even say hello, and then after she took his pain he thanked her. It must have worked.”

            “There are long-term consequences for things like that too,” I point out. The whole idea of drawing magic out of a person makes me deeply uncomfortable.

            Kitty throws a pleading look at Rosalinde, who chews her lip, then nervously says, “I feel like the Keepers are showing us all this to teach us a lesson. Let’s learn the whole lesson before we try to apply it.”

             “Come on, let’s go back to the Map Chamber,” I suggest, gesturing toward the shimmering archway that’s appeared behind the pensieve.

            “You’re back- and in one piece no less,” Professor Rookwood says as we enter. Professor Fig looks very relieved. “It is good to see you again.”

            “Professor Rookwood told me about what happened at the castle,” Rackham says. “In light of the dire circumstances in which we find ourselves, it is fortunate this path is being followed by such a competent group as yourselves.”

            “Mostly competent,” Black mutters, shooting Kitty a glare. Kitty huffs, crossing her arms.

            Professor Rookwood’s gaze flits over to the two Slytherins before saying, “In any case, I believe some introductions are in order. Allow me to introduce former Hogwarts Headmistress Niamh Fitzgerald.”

            We all turn toward the frame on the far left as a woman enters it- the witch we saw in the pensieve with Rackham, Rookwood, and the other Keeper. “Headmistress Fitzgerald,” Black says, suddenly sounding reverent.

“How do you do?” Headmistress Fitzgerald replies. “I must say, I was not entirely surprised to learn that a student had completed the trials- well, students, I should say. That part was rather surprising. But I have always believed Hogwarts students to be capable of anything they set their minds to.”

“Thank you, Headmistress. I was wondering when we would finally meet you- it’s a pleasure,” Black says. “You were a hatstall between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, correct?”

“That is correct. While I am glad the sorting hat ultimately decided on Ravenclaw, I have always respected the Slytherin ambition. I am sure you are more than capable of completing my trial, but first I must… how shall we say… prepare the location of your next trial. As soon as I figure out how to manage the inconvenience of a vainglorious and exasperating headmaster, we shall proceed.”

“Pardon me, but what was it that Isidora pulled out of her father’s chest in the memory?” Kitty asks.

“His pain,” Professor Rookwood sighs.

“I don’t understand how, though-”

“Yes, and you aren’t supposed to,” Black snaps. Turning to Headmistress Fitzgerald’s portrait, she says, “May I ask-”

“I don’t understand,” Kitty interrupts, her voice shrill, “how you can be so selfish!”

“Selfish?” Black laughs in disbelief. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do- you know exactly what I’m talking about, and so does everyone here!”

            “Hey, let’s discuss this rationally,” I interject, hastily moving in front of Kitty as Black advances threateningly, that familiar I-will-destroy-your-life-without-breaking-a-sweat look on her face.

“Yes, rationally,” she agrees, pushing me aside. “All four of us agreed not to talk to anyone outside the group until we heard the end of Isidora’s story. More trials means more to come. I didn’t force anyone to agree. Besides, Rosalinde and Tae know that I’m right, so it seems to me that you’re the selfish one.”

            “If that’s true, then why are they defending me?”

            “I’m defending your safety, not your side, just to be clear,” I inform her.

            “I thought you at least would be empathetic enough to-” Kitty freezes, suddenly finding Black’s wand at her throat.

            “You’re being naïve,” she whispers. “You promised to keep this a secret, and I intend to hold you to that. Don’t make me alter your memories.”

            “Black, you need to stand down,” I warn, starting to draw my own wand. “Kitty’s going to keep the secret. You can’t alter someone’s memories without their consent, that’s illegal.”

            “…And?”

            “Regina,” Professor Fig says, finally stepping in, “Why don’t you and Miss Harris come with me and we’ll finish this conversation in my office?”

            As they leave, I turn back to the portraits of the three Keepers. I feel like there was something I wanted to ask, but now I can’t remember. Professors Rookwood and Rackham share a rueful glance. Headmistress Fitzgerald clears her throat. “Well, that… complicates things. We will need some time to discuss your next moves. Don’t neglect your studies in the meantime.”

            “I guess we’re dismissed, then,” Rosalinde murmurs nervously.

            “Guess so. I hope they haven’t decided not to trust us after that outburst.”

            “Threatening to alter her memories was certainly a tad extreme, but at the same time, it makes perfect sense why she doesn’t want this to get out. It would be really bad,” Rosalinde muses. “I need to go to the library and see if I can find out anything. Would you like to come along?”

            “Sure. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, though.”

            “Sometimes it’s just nice to have company.”

            I end up picking a casual book for light reading while Rosalinde convinces Madame Scribner to let her look at a copy of a four-hundred-year-old encyclopedia written entirely in Latin. After nearly an hour, Kitty slinks over to join us, slumping down in an armchair.

            “How did it go with Fig?” I ask.

            She just shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “You were right about him always taking Regina’s side, what’s up with that? But what I really don’t understand is why you’re taking her side.”

            “I’m not taking her side.”

            “Well, you certainly aren’t taking my side!”

            “It’s not about whose side I’m on. I’m just saying what I believe is true and it happens to be the same thing that Black thinks is true. What am I supposed to do, disagree with her just because I don’t like her? She’s got a point. We all agreed to keep it a secret and I think that’s wise. I don’t think Isidora was doing the right thing and I think there will be consequences. Besides, haven’t you noticed the pattern?”

            “Pattern?”

            “The ancient magic the Keepers use is blue. The magic Ranrok uses is red. The magic Isidora drew from her father’s chest was also red!”

            “So, what, blue is good and red is bad? That’s way too simplistic,” Kitty argues. “Maybe blue ancient magic comes from the mind and red comes from the heart, and the Keepers mainly used ancient magic from the mind. Professor Rackham told Isidora not to use her powers to mess with the human heart. And the magic Isidora pulled out of her father was both red and blue- the pain of lingering love from his heart and lingering memory from his mind.”

            “The heart is a muscle that pumps blood. You’re referring to the soul, which is essentially the same as the mind,” Rosalinde explains, without looking up from the encyclopedia. “It’s not completely implausible. The store of magic that Ranrok found was red, it could simple be that he uses red magic because that’s the type he found. There’s still so much we don’t know. Regina is right to say we should keep this a secret until we know more.”

            “It’s just so hard for me to keep this from Sebastian,” Kitty complains, rubbing her head. “It doesn’t feel right. That’s why I came here instead of going to the common room.”

            “You came to the library to avoid Sallow?” I snort. “Good luck with that.”

            The following week was full of tension. On Wednesday night after charms, Black convinced me and Rosalinde to go down to the Map Chamber with her and try to talk to the Keepers. She apologized for what happened with Kitty, effectively taking control of the narrative, but she did ask them for advice like she said she would when we agreed to go with her. I think she was hoping the Keepers would be willing to tell us how they handled Isidora, but they were as tight-lipped as ever. Headmistress Fitzgerald avoided our questions about the next trial. After Black’s outburst, I’m afraid they no longer trust her or Kitty. To top it all off, Sallow apparently overheard us planning to go down to the map chamber and told Kitty about it, which of course infuriated her. For a day or two, it looked like the tension was going to permanently divide our group. I hated the thought of siding with Black, but my gut was telling me that Kitty was wrong. Kitty tried to rope Rosalinde into talking to Black for her, but poor Rosalinde had a nervous breakdown. Poppy offered to help in her place, but we couldn’t tell her what was going on. Ideally, Professor Fig would have stepped in, but the Headmaster’s been keeping him so ridiculously busy that he’s stopped giving his students homework on the weekends, since he no longer has time to review them. In the end, it fell to me to try and negotiate peace.

            “You don’t have to apologize, but you did promise you’d keep it a secret until we saw the end of the story. You need to honor your word, Kitty.”

            “I know, and I want to, and I have so far, but honestly, Tae, I’m tired of her acting like she knows everything. So she was right about the scriptorium, okay! That doesn’t mean she’s going to be right about everything, ever.”

            I’m not sure what Kitty means by the scriptorium, but I understand the frustration. “Look, it’s just until we find out how Isidora’s story ends. Black promised we’d rehash it once we get there. If we find out that it went well for her, and there weren’t any long-term consequences, that will change things.”

            “You don’t really think she’ll admit to being wrong, do you?” Kitty snorts. “She’d come up with some other way to defend her point. Meanwhile, her so-called best friend suffers daily from bouts of pain, but according to Regina, she’s fine. I don’t understand how she’s content to let her best friend suffer knowing that she could fix it for her.”

            “I don’t know what she’ll say, Kitty. I guess we can’t count on her admitting to being wrong, but if you turn out to be right, Rosalinde and I will take your side.”

            “You might take my side. Rosalinde is going to be on Regina’s side because Regina is willing to threaten people to get her way. She’s putting a strain on my relationship! I feel so guilty all the time because I know that I should tell Sebastian, but I can’t.”

            “I’m sure he would understand.”

            “Well, he would have every reason to be furious with me and you know what? I can accept that.”

            Unfortunately, that leaves me no choice but to try and convince Black to make peace, though I doubt that will get me anywhere. All the same, I approach her after charms on Friday.

            “Listen, can I talk to you?”

            She raises her eyebrows, but follows me, asking, “What did you want to talk about?”

            “I understand why you’re frustrated with Kitty, I think she’s being naïve, but we have bigger problems here. I don’t think the Keepers are going to let us go forward to the next trial until we all figure out how to get along, and we need to finish those trials so we can get to the bottom of this mystery and figure out what Ranrok is up to before it’s too late.”

            “Oh, Merlin,” she groans, rubbing her head. “You’re right.”

            “But it’s- wait, what?”

            She smirks. “I said you were right, Jung, is that really such a surprise?”

            “I guess I wasn’t expecting it to be so easy, but I did hope that point would convince you eventually. You seem to value the greater good over personal conflict.”

            “Well, I appreciate the call to reality, believe it or not. I suppose that Ranrok locating a source of power greater than what he already has and using it to topple the Ministry of Magic would be slightly more devastating than Kitty and Sebastian trying to use dangerous and experimental magic on my best friend without knowing anything about the potential consequences.”

            “Just slightly,” I chuckle. “That’s a tough situation to be in, though. Nobody deserves what the Sallows have gone through. I know we aren’t exactly the best of friends, but if there’s anything I can do…”

            “Just let me know if you think Kitty’s going to do anything dangerous. For now, I’ll offer an olive branch. You’ve made clothes for her before, right? Do you have her measurements?”

            “Yes, why?”

            “Splendid. Copy them down for me so I can send them to our family seamstress and surprise her with a new winter wardrobe. I’m getting mine about two weeks from now, I’m sure they can throw in a couple dresses for her.”

            “You’re going to bribe her?”

            “No,” she laughs, winking, “What are you talking about? I’m just going to remind her why it’s a good idea to stay on my good side and then hopefully she’ll listen to reason.”

Chapter Text

in which the truth will out

Jung-Soon Tae

            “Tae! Do you have any plans this weekend?”

            “Er… I don’t think so.”

            “What do you think about making a trip to Hogsmeade on Saturday?”

            “I thought your mum told you to stay away from Hogsmeade.”

            “Like I said, my mother cannot know where I am all the time,” Natty grins. “As it so happens, she is busy with plans of her own this weekend. We are going to gather information from the friends of Mr. Bickle that Archie mentioned: Agabus Philbert, Otto Dibble, and Mr. and Mrs. Rabe. Will you talk to each of them? I shall wait at the Hog’s Head, as my mother would never go near the Hog’s Head, she is less likely to learn of my activities than if I were to wander the village questioning its residents.”

            “Alright, just be careful. The Ashwinders have been known to hang around the Hog’s Head, and they probably haven’t forgotten you from our little adventure with the hippogriffs.”

            “I will be cautious, do not worry.”

            Saturday morning dawns bright and cold. There’s already a thin layer of snow on the ground, despite it being a little more than a week into November. I put on my big coat and scarf before leaving the castle to meet Natty. “So, where can I find Mr. Bickle’s friends?” I ask, when we arrive outside Hogsmeade Village.

            “I do not know about Mr. Rabe, but his wife, Daisy, is often in Hogsmeade, as is Agabus Philbert. Otto Dibble works at Gladrags so you will likely find him there. Sirona might be able to help you find the other two.”

            “Alright, I’ll do my best. What exactly am I trying to find out from them?”

            “They may know what evidence Mr. Bickle had against Harlowe, or they may have evidence of their own. We simply need to know whatever they know.”

            I set off down main street and head toward Gladrags. I’ll look for Dibble first since I actually know where to look. I was expecting Natty to be a bit more prepared. Hopefully I don’t have to go inside Gladrags. Is that him in the alley, sorting those crates?

            “Excuse me, Mr. Dibble?”

            He jerks upright, then gives me a look of confusion. “May I help you?”

            “May I ask you a few questions about Theophilus Harlowe?”         

            “I’ve nothing to say about him. Now, if you come inside, I could sell you a nice cravat-”

            “I’m here to help,” I interrupt. “My friend and I spoke to Mrs. Bickle shortly after her husband was killed.”

            “You know the Bickles?” he glances around nervously. “Alright, but we must be discreet. Can’t have Mr. Hill hearing this. Pretend to help me with these boxes.” As I pick up a box, he quietly continues, “It all started a few weeks ago. I was distracted, reading a note, when Harlowe came into the shop. I hid the note behind the counter and offered to help him. He stared at me for a moment, then asked me to check on an order he’d placed. I went into the storeroom to check on what turned out to be a non-existent order. When I came back, he was reading the note. It was a note from Reuben Hill, Mr. Hill’s son. You see, we’ve been, well, secretly engaged these past six months. We haven’t told Mr. Hill yet. I daresay he has different hopes for him. Harlowe advised me in no uncertain terms that my relationship with Reuben and my employment here depended on my cooperation.”

            “What did he make you do?”

            “It all happened so quickly,” he mumbles miserably. “He took a scarf from behind the counter and just walked out with it, and the note from Reuben. It was on Reuben’s personal stationary, so Mr. Hill would know it was from him. A couple days later, he came back and stole a pocket watch. I’ve been trying to cover for it with my own funds, but I’m running out of money! My parents are muggles, and the religious type, too, so we’ve got no support from them. So I asked Mr. Bickle what I should do- we were both Ravenclaws and he was a prefect, so I always sort of looked up to him. He said he would take care of it, but now…”

            “My friend and I are working on building a case against Theophilus Harlowe. We would like to report this to Officer Singer, if you’re comfortable with that.”

            “Well… yes, I suppose so. Officer Singer knows how to be discreet. Be careful, though. As much as I’d like to see Harlowe rotting in Azkaban, he is a dangerous man.”

            “We know. Thank you, Mr. Dibble.”

            I discretely exit the alleyway by Gladrag’s and head down to the Three Broomsticks to ask Sirona about Mr. Bickle’s next friend, Mr. Philbert. She gives me his street and house number and after knocking on his door for a few minutes, he answers and nervously invites me inside. It seems Harlowe sent some of the Ashwinders to burgle his house as a punishment for vocally condemning the group, and he’d been afraid to speak out ever since. Mr. Bickle, evidently, had encouraged him to report the robbery to Officer Singer, but unfortunately, it had never happened. Now I just have to find either Mr. or Mrs. Rabe- all Natty said was that she is often in Hogsmeade. Damn it, I should have asked Sirona when I was there earlier. You nitwit, this is why you aren’t in charge of anything, Black would have thought of that. I trudge back to the Three Broomsticks to talk to Sirona again.

            “Afternoon, Tae,” Sirona calls, “were you able to find Mr. Philbert?”

            “Indeed I was, he was very helpful. I was actually wondering if you could point me in the right direction once more?”

            Sirona raises her eyebrows. “What exactly are you up to?”

            I hesitate, but honestly, I trust Sirona far more than Officer Singer. I end up telling her about everything that’s been happening with the Ashwinders and Natty and Mr. Bickle. “I know, I’m just a Hogwarts student, but someone’s got to do something!”

            “That’s always been the way with you,” Sirona remarks, passing me a butterbeer. “No, no need- this one’s on me.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Of course. So, who are you looking for this time?”

            “Either Mr. or Mrs. Rabe.”

            “Rabe? Mrs. Rabe is here, as a matter of fact. She’s at that table in the corner, fretting about something. I asked if something was the matter, but she didn’t seem too keen to talk. Perhaps she’ll talk to you, though.”

            “Thanks, Sirona. I’ll do my best.” I head over to the table in the corner, where a young woman with her brunette hair tucked into a bun is sitting with a glass of sherry, nervously checking her pocket watch. As I approach, I glance around to make sure no one is close enough to overhear before quietly saying, “Mrs. Rabe? I wondered if I might speak to you about Theophilus Harlowe. I’m a friend of the Bickles and I’m trying to gather evidence against him.”

            “Poor Johanna, and poor little Archie and Ellie,” Mrs. Rabe sniffs, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. “We should have gone into hiding the moment we heard, but it’s too late now.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I’m a security guard for Gringotts, and my Isko works as a curse-breaker for them. Harlowe approached me and tried to convince me to help him extort my colleagues into giving him treasures from the vaults. I declined repeatedly, until I thought they’d given up. But when I came home last night, I found a note affixed to my door with a knife, stating that I only had a few days to reconsider ‘helping’ with some ‘banking needs’ and that my husband would appreciate it if I acted quickly. I asked my supervisor to meet me here several hours ago, to help with the situation, but he hasn’t shown up and I’m worried out of my mind.”

            “You think your husband was kidnapped?”

            “I know he was kidnapped,” Mrs. Rabe insists, trembling. “The garden had been trampled, those daisies were Isko’s pride and joy. They’re using him to blackmail me.”

            “Do you have any idea where they might have taken him?”

            “Not a clue.”

            I need to get Natty. “I can help you find Mr. Rabe, but first, I need to get my friend. Can we meet you at your house to look for clues?”

            “Why, yes- Officer Singer has already searched, but an extra pair of eyes couldn’t hurt. It’s just down the street from Brood and Peck, the cottage with the green door.”

            Natty said she’d be waiting in the Hog’s Head, but she’s nowhere inside the dingy little bar. Perhaps she preferred to wait outside, in the fresh air? I go back through the front door and around the side of the building toward the river when my foot hits something small and thin and I almost trip. It rolls down the bank and I reach down and grab it just before it tumbles into the river. My stomach turns over as I recognize the object as Natty’s wand.

            I head back inside the bar and approach the bartender, saying, “Excuse me? Did a young witch come in here at all in the last few hours? About fifteen years old, dark brown skin and hair, Hogwarts student…”

            “Can’t say I noticed.”

            I can almost sort of tell when someone’s lying, and alarm bells are ringing in my head. “Are you sure? She’s my friend and I’m afraid she’s in danger.”

            The bartender’s eyes flash to the corner, where two cloaked, masked Ashwinders are sitting at a table, leering. “I didn’t see any dark-skinned witches, nope.”    

            He’s definitely lying, but I can’t ask any more questions. He’s obviously in danger as well. I decide to slip out the side door, pretending not to notice the two Ashwinders stand up and follow me. As soon as I round the corner, I transform, turning invisible and pressing my feathers up against the wall as the Ashwinders pass by, unaware. I follow them around the building in diricawl form, silent and unseen.

            “Where’d he go?”

            “Dunno. Might’a disapparated.”

            “Blast. That’s one of the ones old Harlowe’s got a bounty on.”

            “What, the purple haired kid?”

            “Yeah, ‘e’s surprisingly hard to track considering ‘ow ‘e sticks out like a sore thumb. Don’ worry, though, he’ll take the bait.”

            “Bait?”

            “Yeah, bait, you useless troll. What did you think we nabbed the girl for?”

            “I thought that was the child Rookwood wanted!”

            “By Merlin, you’re slow. The child Rookwood wants in’t dark-skinned. That’s the one that always goes around wiv’ Miss Black, what so we can’t get to ‘er, devious little mite. It’s Harlowe what wants the African girl, for diggin’ into his business.”

            “Right, right. So, purple-hair disappeared, what now?”

            “Now we wait,” the Ashwinder sneers, opening the doors to the Hog’s Head cellar. “Now we wait.”

Chapter Text

in which two wrongs do not make a right

Wynrough Estate, Hampshire County, Summer 1885

            “-front page again!!”          

            “Mother…”

            “No really, enough is enough! This is the third time this year that spiteful girl’s had a feature in the Daily Prophet, and you have yet to appear even once. You are making us look bad. I know your father does not wish for us to be competing with his brother, but he does not have to suffer your Aunt Thomasine’s smug looks over tea! We will get you featured this summer, not to worry. I have put you down for a few contests this summer that you are sure to win, then they will not be able to snub us, no indeed-”

            “Mother, have you considered the fact that perhaps there have been no articles about me because the general populace does not care about the activities of a twelve-year-old? Besides, I was actually planning on spending the summer with my friends in Feldcroft.”

            “What friends of yours live in Feldcroft? Absolutely not, you cannot disappear off to some unknown hamlet in Scotland, to waste away your summer with some nobodies. Stop trying to shirk your responsibilities. Between all three of your cousins, my poor nerves have had to withstand no less than a dozen Prophet articles in the last year. At least Bianca did not have a son, that would have spoiled everything. No. Listen to me closely: You need to start acting more like a lady. Have you forgotten everything you learned before going off to school?”

            “No, mother, I have not. I believe Father has found my behavior more than satisfactory. I am to be Slytherin’s youngest-ever Quidditch captain-”

            “Quidditch Captain? That is not nearly good enough. Besides, all that quidditch practice is distracting from your studies. You received a substandard grade-”

`            “A single Exceeds Expectations, the rest Outstanding-”

            “Do not interrupt! You will be taking more classes this year than ever before, and you must succeed at all of them, or there will be consequences.”

            “I know…”

Catherine Harris

            “Wow, you weren’t kidding about having a lot of homework.”

            “Right? Garlick is the worst! I shall likely drop her after O.W.L.s.”

            “Oh, please don’t, I have to take Herbology next year, we can take it together.”

            “Oh, alright, then.”

            “Where are we sitting at lunch?”

            “Well, I was thinking that we could sit with Vi and her friends again. They’re, er, so interesting, you know… scholarly, and, erm…”

            “Still haven’t apologized to Regina?”

            “She hasn’t apologized to me!”

            “Welcome to the club,” Sebastian snorts. “I promise you can tell me what happened. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

            “It’s just girl stuff, really, don’t worry about it,” I lie. “Want to play Exploding Snap?”

            “Sure.”

            It’s been a little over two months since I arrived at Hogwarts, a month since Sebastian and I started going out, three weeks since our first kiss, and two weeks since Regina Black threatened to erase my memories if I wouldn’t keep secret the fact that I could probably figure out how to heal his twin sister’s illness. I had every cause to be upset. Violet advised me to resolve our quarrel at once, but I will not. Alright, so I may be cooperating out of fear, but I’m not going to hide the fact that I don’t like it.

            “Oh, Kitty!”

            I look up to see Regina and Ominis entering the common room, laden with fat brown parcels. Ominis plunks down on the sofa next to Sebastian, looking tired, while Regina beckons me toward the girls’ staircase.

            “What is it?”

            “Try to sound a little more excited, now. Our winter wardrobes have come in!”

            “Our winter- what?”

            “New clothes, Kitty, now come along.”

            “This feels like a trap,” I say, though I follow her up the staircase as if enchanted.

            “Why on earth would you think that?”

            “I dunno, why would you get me clothes if you’re mad at me?”

            “You do realize that you need new dresses for the winter, regardless of how determined you are to be petty? The Keepers are not likely to let us proceed until our little group can come to an agreement, and every day we waste, Ranrok gets closer to finding what he wants.”

            I hesitate. Merlin, I hate it when she’s right. “Fair point. We’ll work something out and then go talk to them. What all did you get for me?”

            “Oh, just a couple morning and day gowns, and some evening gowns, all in the appropriate fashion. There should be a new coat and hat for you as well.”

            There are eleven new gowns in total, as well as a thick leather coat, hat, and mittens. It’s extravagant, but nothing compared to her own wardrobe. Does she ever rewear anything?

            “Well, don’t you look spectacular,” Sebastian says, when I come back down wearing a new green day dress. “Now that you’ve got a good jacket for this weather, care to go for a stroll?”

            “Sure.”

            Once outside the castle, he says, “I actually need to tell you something. I’ve been studying that triptych in the Undercroft, and I found something that leads to an abandoned mine on the coast where Ranrok’s loyalists have been digging. I’ve just heard that they cleared out about a week ago. I was going to tell you this morning, but then it snowed, and I didn’t want to ask you to go out in the cold.”

            “Bash! You know I would’ve.”

            “Exactly,” he grins, wrapping his mittened hand around mine. “Anyways, now that you’re dressed for the elements, want to check it out?”

            “Sure! How will we get there, though?”

            “I’m pretty good at apparition, but I don’t have my license. Broomstick, maybe? It’s not too far from here.”

            “I’m never listening to you again,” I gasp, as we finally land on the icy, muddy coastline. “That was way too far to fly.”

            “It’s not unpleasant when the weather’s better,” he protests, shivering. “Well, let’s get inside.”

            “What exactly are we hoping to find in here?” I ask, as we follow an old set of rail-cart tracks through a wide crevice in the rock. It’s a little warmer in the tunnels, where we at least have shelter from the wind.

            “The next piece of the canvas, maybe. I don’t know. I thought it could be a fun outing.”

            “I do love fun outings.”

            “Careful,” he warns, gripping my elbow, “the mine was closed after too many accidents were reported. Now I think I see why.”

            I can see it, too. The mine feels eerily like a tomb, silent but for our own footsteps crunching on overgrown gravel. Sebastian lights his wand as the distant sunlight fades. We carefully make our way down a steep slope, stopping before a rickety bridge.

            “This doesn’t look safe,” I mutter, peeking over the edge to the chasm below.

            “I’ll go across first,” Sebastian offers. “If it holds for me, it ought to hold for you.”

            I’d rather not cross by myself, but I also don’t want to push the bridge’s limits. I watch nervously as he picks his way across the brittle wooden planks, wobbling unsteadily, then stepping across to the other side.

            “Should be safe enough, come on!”

            After the bridge, the mine twists off in several different directions. We wander down the right-hand tunnel, but that only leads to more twists and turns, until I’m nearly certain we’ve lost the way. “How are we going to get back?”

            “Relax. If the worst comes to the worst, I can apparate us out of here.”

            “What if you splinch us??”

            “I’m really good at it, I don’t ever splinch anymore. It’s technically illegal, but as long as we don’t get caught it’ll be fine.”

            “I’m starting to get tired. Can we head back, and maybe return some other time when we’ve come up with a way to navigate these tunnels?”

            He sighs. “Alright, then.”

            We start back up the tunnel, but suddenly, I sense something- the slightest whiff of ancient magic calling to me. “Wait!”

            “What is it?”

            “Did we go that way already?”

            “Maybe? I honestly can’t remember. I think we-”

            “There- what’s that up there?”

            Hidden in a nook in the rocks and covered in thick layers of cobwebs is a rune symbol just like the ones I’ve been seeing since the vault at Gringotts. Sebastian helps me clear the cobwebs away and I activate it, revealing a doorway into a small, musty chamber. Our winter boots leave prints in the thick layers of dust on the stone tile floor. In the chamber’s center is a rotting wood table with moth-eaten parchments, dust-covered jars and empty ink bottles, and a thick sheaf of canvas.

            “The second piece of the triptych,” I gasp, brushing it off and showing it to Sebastian.

            “Brilliant. Our efforts weren’t in vain after all. Still, something about this place feels… odd.”

            I nod, gazing around. “If the triptych lead us here to find this canvas piece, we can probably assume that Isidora Morganach was here.”

            “She seems to have been everywhere.”

            “Right, so if she was using the Undercroft and the cellar beneath her manor in Feldcroft, why would she create this space?”

            “Dunno. Why hide it behind cryptic rune symbols and ancient magic that only you can use?”

            “It’s not only me.”

            “Who else, then?”

            “Well, besides Isidora, Professor Rackham could use it. He was one of the Keepers.”

            “The one who created the portkey you found?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Why don’t we take the canvas back to the triptych? Perhaps we’ll find another clue there. Do you want to try to find the way out, or shall we make an attempt to apparate?”

            “No need. There’s another passageway to the Undercroft right there.”

            “You never cease to amaze me,” he teases, squeezing my side as I show him the magical mirror leading back into the heart of the castle. Once inside the Undercroft, we head across the room toward the triptych and fit the canvas piece into the right side of the frame.

            “That doesn’t look like the place we just came from,” I note.

            Sebastian shakes his head. “That’s a mountain near Marunweem. I recognize the area. We’re in for more trouble. Ranrok has taken over a huge mine in the area and Marunweem has suffered for it. It’s as bad as Feldcroft’s become.”

            “Still a step behind Ranrok,” I groan, muttering, “I hope we hear from Lodgok soon, so we can finally get ahead.”

            “Who is that?”

            “A friendly goblin. He wants no part in Ranrok’s fight, but he’s agreed to help spy on him for us.”

            “A friendly goblin?” Sebastian snorts. “That’s likely.”

            “It’s not impossible.”

            “Please, Kitty. Goblins never act out of anything but self-interest. He’s probably a double agent.”

            “Bash, you know that not all goblins are-”

            “Not all goblins? Do you even hear yourself? They cursed my sister just to shut her up, have you forgotten that?”

            “I’m sorry,” I plead, tugging on his arm. “Look, we haven’t heard anything useful from him, so you could be right. Anyways, when do you think we should explore this mountain?”

            He sighs. “We’ll have to wait until the snow melts. It’s far too treacherous in the cold. So… a few months, at least.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s not your fault. I’m glad for any lead, especially after the Scriptorium turned out so badly.”

            “Bash… do you really think all goblins are like that?”

            “Of course they are. They hate us, Kitty. There’s not a single goblin who doesn’t think they’d be better off without the Ministry of Magic in charge. If we don’t stop Ranrok, everything as we know it will come to an end.”

            “Yes, but…”

            “But what?”

            “I don’t know.”

            I don’t want to argue with him anymore. I’m too tired, and it’s starting to feel a little dangerous. But his words don’t sit right in my stomach. So many things happened on the way to Hogwarts, I never really digested it all, and now the image of the goblin from the desk is coming back up like a lump in my throat. In my head I see Ranrok crushing his skull into the floor for daring to speak against him. That goblin was friendly and helped us, and I didn’t even get his name.

            “Hey,” Sebastian says, reaching for my arm, “they started this, remember? We’re only trying to protect ourselves, and everything we care about.”

            “Yeah,” I agree. I do agree about Ranrok. But I still don’t feel certain. “Well… let’s close this up until spring, I guess.”

Chapter Text

in which the law is an ass

Jung-Soon Tae

            I hop up, frantically fluttering my wings, concentrating on staying invisible as I squeeze through the rapidly closing cellar doors, darting off into a corner as one of the Ashwinders blinks in confusion.

            “What was that?”

            “Dunno, mate, get the bloody door closed.”

            I shift to the left as my bird eyes adjust to the dimly lit cellar. The men pull two heavy kegs of ale forward, causing a secret door to open on the back wall. I dart through, scrambling behind a stool as my invisibility wears off. As soon as the Ashwinders pass through to the next room, I survey my surroundings. Making sure I have enough room, I transform back into a human, quickly using the disillusionment charm to hide. Quietly creeping after the Ashwinders, I strain my ears to hear their continued conversation.

            “You really fink this is going to work? Using the girl as bait? No one’s coming for her. We ought ter just kill ‘er.”

            “Only a Hogwarts student would be arrogant enough to come in here alone.”

            I follow them, pulse racing, through a narrow hall, wondering how long this space has existed under Hogsmeade. It could just be a really powerful undetectable extension charm, I guess. On a cluttered table in a slightly wider chamber I spot some of the items that were burgled from Mr. Philbert. Moving closer, I spy a letter on red stationary, signed by Reuben Hill, and a mahogany wand. Mr. Philbert’s items are too large to take without being noticed, but I pocket the wand and the note.

            “Any reports?” A harsh female voice calls from further down the hall. I creep through a doorway into a stone chamber lined with iron-grated cells. Most of them are empty, but one is occupied by a slender, walnut-toned man in a felt bowler, and another is occupied by Natty.

            “We saw purple-hair come in the ‘og’s ‘ead, but we lost ‘im right after.”

            “It won’t take ‘im too long to find us here.”

            “We’ll be ready when ‘e comes.”

            I move a little closer to Natty’s cell. She doesn’t have her wand, but she can cast magic without it, hopefully she was wise enough to keep that fact hidden and wait for a better moment. I wish there was a way I could communicate with her discreetly, but it seems like I’ll have to handle the situation on my own. I’ll use petrificus totalus as quickly as possible, just like we did with the goblins that time. I carefully aim at one of the Ashwinders, thinking, petrificus totalus! as soon as he hits the floor, the female Ashwinder whips out her wand and deflects my attempt to stun her. In one swift motion she performs the counterjinx on the other two, who stumble to their feet, looking around wildly.

            “Stupefy!” Natty cries, pointing her finger at the female. She deflects it, snarling, “I should have known you’d have another trick up your sleeve!”

            Thinking fast, I try to stun all three Ashwinders, but once again, I’m not quick enough. One of the male Ashwinders spots my outline faintly shimmering in the candlelight, shouting, “There!” and firing off a blasting curse at me. I dive out of the way as he blasts the barrel behind me to pieces. Footsteps hurtle toward me. I point my wand blindly, thinking, Brackium emendo!

            There’s a thud. I scramble to my feet as the two male Ashwinders yell in horror at the sight of their leader flopping around on the floor. Seizing upon their distraction, I stun each of them, then turn to check on Natty and the other prisoner.

            “Tae! You found us!” Natty cries, as I unlock her cell door. “I knew you would realize I had left my wand for you. And this is Mr. Rabe!”

            “They took my wand,” the man says, brushing himself off as I let him out. “And there was an anti-apparition jinx on the cells…”

            “Is this your wand?” I ask, pulling out the one I found with the letter.

            “Yes!”

            “Are you alright? I spoke to Mrs. Rabe. She says you disappeared last night.”

            “The Ashwinders took me, despite my best efforts. You wouldn’t believe what they did to my garden,” Mr. Rabe grumbles.  

            “Let’s get out of here and report this to Officer Singer,” I suggest. “I doubt they’ll be able to clear out camp as thoroughly this time. Let’s see if we can disapparate from here.”

            Mr. Rabe and I link arms with Natty and concentrate on the street outside of Singer’s office. Fortunately, the anti-apparition jinxes were only concentrated around the prison cells, and after half a moment we find ourselves blinking in the twilight. Natty knocks on the door before pushing it open, calling, “Officer Singer!”

            “You two again?” she says, flabbergasted. “I thought I told you- Mr. Rabe?”

            “Aye.”

            “Your wife has just filed a missing persons report. She’s worried frantic. What on earth is going on?”

            “Theophilus Harlowe had me abducted so that he and Victor Rookwood could extort my wife, Ma’am. If it weren’t for these two students, I would still be locked up beneath these very streets.”

            “Officer Singer, we learned of several Hogsmeade residents whose lives have been threatened by the Ashwinders,” I put in, stepping forward. “In addition to abducting Mr. Rabe to blackmail his wife, Rookwood and Harlowe have also extorted Otto Dibble and burglarized Agabus Philbert.”

            “Is that so? Well, you’ve certainly outdone yourselves this time. I will look into all of that.  As for the two of you, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but the risks you are taking are too great. You must let the authorities handle the Ashwinders!”

            “The authorities haven’t been much help,” I snap, gritting my teeth. “And there’s a bounty on my head whether I stop now or not, so I may as well keep at it until Rookwood and Harlowe are behind bars.”

            “Precisely why you should be staying in the safety of the castle! This is your last warning, both of you. If I hear you’ve been getting involved again, there will be serious repercussions. You simply don’t have the required training to handle these matters, not to mention you’re far too young to take these risks.”

            “But-”

            “Allow me to make it very clear what is going on here, Tae Jung.” Officer Singer brings her fist down hard on her parchment, rattling her ink-bottle. “I am doing my best, but I am swamped. I have asked the Ministry to send an auror or at least another officer to help, but they have deemed this area as one of “low concern.” It’s not right, but it is what it is. So as much as I would like help, unregulated help from Hogwarts students, one of them underage, no less, is the opposite of what I need right now. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and you would make a very good auror in a few years, but you need to let me handle this.”

            “Alright, I think I get it,” I slowly say, “You want us to stop doing the right thing because it’s making you look bad.”

            “That’s not- no! You need to get a hold of yourself, Mr. Jung. This is not a story and you are not the hero. You are not obligated to fix every problem you see. Just- just get back to Hogwarts. Do I make myself clear?”

Chapter Text

in which unity is strength

Jung-Soon Tae

            “I thought Professor Fig was supposed to come with us?”

            “He was, but something came up last minute, evidently.”

            “Does your father do that on purpose?”

            Black glances briefly at the ceiling. “Quite possibly. Either way, we really cannot afford to waste any more time. You made a very good point. So all four of us are going down together to tell the Keepers that we are ready for their next trial.”

            “Are we?” Rosalinde asks.

            “As ready as we shall ever be, I suspect,” Kitty replies, holding up the skirts of her new dusky-purple morning gown, no doubt a part of Black’s olive branch. I wish Professor Fig were coming with us. The two of them are still acting very short towards one another and I’m tired of handling it by myself.

            “That’s a nice color,” I tell her, as we head down the stairs toward the Map Chamber.

            “Thank you. Oh, did any of those magazines write back to you about your designs?”

            “Yeah. I got rejected.”

            “Oh, no!”

            “It’s alright, that’s how the business works. I just have to make something better.”

            “Better than that outfit you made for Kitty?” Black asks. I nod, a little stiffly. “Shame,” she replies, “I thought it was pretty good.”

            “Thank you,” I say, feeling a little awkward. Kitty may have accepted the olive branch, but there’s clearly still some tension between her and Black.  

            “I have a bit of experience with modeling, you know,” Black says. “My name tends to demand attention, if you ever wish to use that to your advantage, I could help model for you.”

            “Tae doesn’t need your help getting attention, their designs are amazing,” Kitty scoffs.

            “I didn’t know they hired you as a spokesperson,” Black retorts.

            Oh, Merlin, now I’m caught up in the middle. I don’t even know what to say. Having my longtime enemy help me fulfill my longtime dream would feel… odd, and there’s a good chance she intends to hold it over my head. But even with that in mind, it would still be a bloody good opportunity. There’s really no such thing as bad publicity when you’re just starting out. “I’ll have to think about it,” I reply evasively.

            “Is that our four young friends?” Professor Rookwood calls as we enter the chamber. Professor Rackham and Headmistress Fitzgerald enter their portraits as well. “We were hoping for a chance to talk with you. Where is your Professor Fig?”

            “Busy once again, I’m afraid, but we were hoping to talk about the next trial. We’ve come to an agreement for the time being, you see,” Black explains, “because ultimately, Ranrok is still out there. Time is ticking. We can’t afford to be split over petty differences”

            “Ah,” Headmistress Fitzgerald glances at Rackham and Rookwood. “But it is a bit more than a petty difference, is it not? Even if my trial was ready for you, you are not ready for my trial. Before you can proceed… Professor Rackham, would you like to explain your idea?”

            “Ahem. We created these trials expecting a single person to discover and complete them, but because there are four of you, we have decided to add an extra trial. Your quarrels have not gone unnoticed and to make sure you are equipped for the next two trials, we must be certain in your ability to work together. Therefore, before you can move onto Niamh’s trial, you must complete a trial of trust.”

            “Trust?” Black echoes, tapping her heeled boot on the crystal floor.

            “That is correct.” 

Rosalinde takes a startled step back as a stone pensieve slowly rises up out of the floor. “Another memory?”

“We are not going to be providing any memories to accompany this trial. Instead, a memory must be provided by each of you, to make sure you all understand each other. Nothing less than your very worst memory, at that.”

“I’m not doing that,” Black immediately says.

“I know it may sound intimidating, but you would be surprised how far a little bit of trust can go,” Professor Rookwood assures her. “We know we are asking a lot of you, but something more powerful than any of us has brought all four of you together for this moment. Coming to an agreement is not enough. You must be able to truly understand each other.”

Black shakes her head. “No. I won’t.”

“You aren’t dying to know what hurts each of us the most?” I scoff.

“This might come as a bit of a shock to you, Jung, but I don’t exist just to be your personal villain!” she snaps, eyes flashing dangerously. “I have my own pain that I don’t want to share. None of you could possibly understand.”

“I think you’re underestimating us,” Kitty butts in impatiently. “You’re not the only person in the universe who’s suffered, you know. Besides, you’ve got things the rest of us can only imagine, more money than you could ever use, imagine being popular because everyone’s too scared to cross you. Imagine always getting your way because you’re rich and your family is powerful and-”

“Don’t you dare bring up my family, you don’t know what they’re really like-”

“At least you’ve got a family! You don’t know what it’s like, always being shunted around because nobody really wants you, never having a place to call your own, never having anything to call your own. You never even apologized for threatening to wipe my memories, you just bought me a new wardrobe and acted like that was supposed to fix everything! I want to stop Ranrok, but I’m tired of doing everything your way.”

“Has doing things my way ever lead you to harm?” Black demands. “No! All of you are so ungrateful. I don’t need you to- to understand me. I’m not sharing my memory with any of you,” she decides, starting to walk away, “Go on without me if you must. I don’t need to be a part of this.”

“Wait, Regina, please come back,” Rosalinde says. “You’re supposed to be here just as much as any of us. We won’t be cruel about your memory, I promise.”

Black sizes her up. “You’re the only one here I actually trust, you know. I don’t know you that well, but you’re efficient, you’re clever, and you don’t get in the way. That’s all I need. I want to trust you,” she says, turning to me, “but you obviously hate me. And Kitty- I don’t even know where to begin. I welcomed you into my circle of friends, and now you’re threatening to drive us apart. You’ve made a huge difference for the better on Sebastian, why can’t you be content with that? You don’t understand the danger of dark magic, what you’re getting yourself into is-”

“Stop it! I’m so sick of you talking to me like I’m too young to understand anything! I’m trying so hard, I know I’ve had a lot to learn and catch up on, and Professor Fig says I’ve done a wonderful job adjusting. It’s a lot to deal with at once!”

“Well, I’m sorry that you’re obsessed with proving yourself.”

“Well, I’m sorry that everyone hates you!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Black laughs derisively. “I’m perfectly aware of my reputation. I know what everyone really thinks about me. I don’t need anyone to like me, I don’t even like myself that much. I know what everyone says about me behind my back, and I know that they’re too scared to say it to my face, and that’s exactly the way I want it. When it’s a choice between predator and prey, I’ll be a predator every time.”

“I don’t think it’s always a choice between predator and prey,” I say thoughtfully. “You can be kind and strong. I like to think of myself as a protector-”

“Oh, shut up,” Black snaps, rolling her eyes. “I’m tired of you and your holier-than-thou attitude. You care more about seeing yourself as a nice person than actually being one. Honestly, it’s not like I’ve been horrible to you, I’ve tried to work with you this year, but you’re impossible. If you were really as kind as you think you are, you would’ve given me a second chance, but look at you! A fully grown warlock and still bitter about the way I treated you when I was thirteen. Have you ever met a nice thirteen year old? It’s part of the age! And you still hold it against me, it’s pathetic!”

“Okay,” I decide, rubbing my forehead, “You know what? Fine. Now that we’re adults, let’s talk about it like adults. I don’t like that you got to treat me horribly and never acknowledge it and then expect me to act like it never happened just because it’s been a while and now it’s more convenient to be on the same side.”

“Okay, well, I don’t like it that you judge me for something that happened five crucially developmental years ago, so why don’t we just start over?”  

It’s not what I was asking for. Not even close. But it’s probably the best I’ll ever get. “Fine. Done. The- the slate is clean.”

“Excellent,” she says, promptly turning to Kitty. “Now we just have to work things out with you and we can be done here.”

“This is more than just a task, Miss Black,” Headmistress Fitzgerald warns. “We will not allow you to proceed until you understand each other.”

“I can go first,” Rosalinde says.

“What?”

“W-with the memory,” she stammers, turning red. “Mine’s- probably not that bad, anyway. I’ve had a pretty good life.”

“Are you… embarrassed about that?” Kitty asks.

“Well, no, it’s just, I mean, I don’t know, I guess a little bit, maybe. I just… it seems a little lame to struggle as much as I do with all the resources I have, I guess.”

“Well, you’re also the only person in the group no one’s had any conflict with, so don’t discredit yourself entirely,” I say, reaching out and squeezing her arm. “I can go after you.”

            Rosalinde nods, looking nervous. I’m not so sure that we’re ready for this, not with everything that’s been said between Kitty and Black. I can only hope they’ll understand each other better after seeing each other’s memories. As for me… I don’t know what to think or feel or say. I’ve been slowly warming up to Black this year, but now I’m being asked to put it all aside, when she hasn’t made any pretense of apology. I still feel like I’m missing this big moment when everything she’s done comes back around to get her and I don’t know if I can really trust her until I’ve had that satisfaction. I don’t know what to decide, but unfortunately, I’m out of time.  Rosalinde is drawing a glowing strand of memory from her forehead with a trembling hand and dropping it into the pensieve.

Chapter Text

in which calm seas never made a good sailor

Jung-Soon Tae

            As soon as my nose hits the surface of the swirling pensieve, my vision dissolves in smoke, then clears in an elegant navy bedchamber, dimly lit by a bronze candelabra sitting on a mahogany bedside table. I’ve gotten so used to seeing her in black that at first I don’t recognize Rosalinde in a lavender dress, sitting in a chair by the bedside. Her hair was done up in an auburn plait, so this must have been before she had it cut.

            “Aren’t you scared at all?” Rosalinde says, and I notice for the first time that the bed is occupied by a frail old man with a thin grey beard. This must have been her grandfather.

            “Not at all, Rosy,” the old man vaguely replies, “I doubt it will hurt much… I imagine it will be just like falling asleep.”

            “I don’t want you to go,” Rosalinde confesses.

            “I know, my girl, but I must. It is unavoidable. But I cannot imagine a better way to go. I can greet death like an old friend, knowing that I lived this life as well as I could.”

            “Like the first Ignotus.”

            “Right on, as usual. There, there,” the old man mutters, feebly patting her hand as she starts to cry, “it is natural to mourn. But you must promise me to let yourself feel happy again when it comes.”

            “I promise, Grandfather.”

            As Rosalinde’s parents enter the room and the family gathers around her grandfather’s bed, I feel a strange sense of loss, as though I am mourning something I never had. Even after the old man draws his last breath, Rosalinde keeps holding his hand. Her parents withdraw, closing the chamber doors behind them, but she stays by his side, looking numb and sad.

            “Can we please stop talking about trying to have an heir now?” Rosalinde’s head bobs up, twisting toward the chamber door in confusion at the sound of her mother’s voice. “You and I both know that is no longer possible.”

            “I know. This hasn’t been easy for any of us, but I didn’t want him to be disappointed,” Rosalinde’s father replies. “It is what it is- what it has been for a long time. I will be the last Peverell to possess the cloak, and then… who knows?”

            “Who knows, indeed,” Rosalinde’s mother agrees. “I wish you would have…”

            The voices fade away as their footsteps echo down the hall, the room dissolves in a haze, and then I stand, blinking, in the Map Chamber, surrounded by the others. Seeing that Rosalinde is fighting back tears, I go to pull her into a comforting hug. “It’s okay,” she protests, seemingly embarrassed. “Like he said, it was- it was the best way to go. I just…”

            “Let yourself grieve, for Merlin’s sake,” Black snorts. “You expect far too much of yourself.”

            “I know, I just… that’s part of why I wanted to go first, I guess. I know that’s probably the least-”

            “Stop comparing your sorrows to ours,” I tell her, patting her back. “None of us want you to feel guilty. We don’t begrudge you any of your securities.”

            “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her eyes.

            I wait a few moments to let her regain her composure, then reluctantly say, “I guess it’s my turn.” It’s not hard to decide which memory is my worst, the tricky part is getting it focused enough to pull into a memory. After a second I brace myself and drag the whole thing into a glowing strand and drop it into the pensieve. “Ready?” I ask, feeling apprehensive. Should I have picked a different memory? This one’s just so intense, what if they can’t handle it? I guess it’s too late for that.

            The swirling haze of the pensieve turns to the smoky haze of a burning skyline as I watch a disheveled, eight-year-old version of myself darting down a street, nearly tripping over a goat. My younger self coughs, and I remember how the ash felt coating my lungs. Young Tae stumbles backwards as a door is thrust open and one man in a soldier’s uniform shoves a pleading man into an alleyway, holding a long rifle with a bloodied bayonet at the end. He kicks the man over, shouting a curse, and slams the butt of his rifle into his shoulder, then fires a single, ear-shattering shot into the man’s skull. Young Tae crouches against a barrel as the man with the gun fumbles to reload. He stares straight at me, finger flitting toward the trigger, as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to shoot a child.

            Boom! An explosion sends debris and broken glass raining down into the alleyway. The man with the rifle ducks into the next building and disappears from sight. Young Tae starts to approach the dead man’s body as the memory dissolves into haze again.

            “I think I need to sit down for a minute,” Kitty says, wide-eyed. “What exactly was happening? I couldn’t understand what those people were saying.”

            “Sorry,” I mutter, conjuring some chairs. “That- a lot of stuff happened that day, that was just part of it. Er, I didn’t know those people. When I lived there, the muggles were fighting over control of that area, so stuff like that happened a lot, that- that was just the first time I really remember it happening.” Rosalinde conjures herself a chair, looking queasy. I sit down on the floor as well, feeling more awkward than before. “I’m sorry,” I apologize again.

            Black sits down next to me, quietly saying, “I always had a feeling that you were a survivor of some sort. Merlin… I would hate muggles if I had to see all that on the regular.”

            “I did,” I admit. “I did for a long time. My dad- he was a muggle, and he left my mum when I was a baby, so she never had anything nice to say about that. Then there were the muggle boys at the boys home that had me pretty much set against muggles even before all the fighting started. I’m just glad I learned better before coming to Hogwarts. I don’t suppose you hate them, do you?”

            “No, I think they’re fascinating. They’re always inventing things to make up for the fact that they don’t have magic. But I probably wouldn’t find it so fascinating if I had to watch them use those inventions to brutally murder each other.”

            “Hmm. Probably not.” An easier feeling slides into my stomach, loosening the tension just a little. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you, though.”

            “Oh, I hardly expected you to, you can’t even forgive yourself.”

            “What?”

            She smirks. “Just an intuition.”

            I frown. “Anyways… isn’t it your turn now?”

            “I’m still very disinclined to share.”

            “I’ll go,” Kitty volunteers, standing up. “Er… how do I do this, actually?”

            As Black shows her the incantation, I wonder what she means about me not forgiving myself. What even possessed you to tell her you don’t forgive her? As if she cares! Looks like you’re just going to have to get over it.

            “Erm, just so you know, mine might be a little fuzzy,” Kitty apologizes, “I was really little, so I don’t know how clear the memory will be.”

            “That’s alright. Just show us what you remember.”

            This time, the pensieve shows me a vision of a cozy room in a cottage. I recognize Kitty at once. She can’t be more than five years old, but she’s the only brunette child playing on the rug by the hearth. Every other person in the house is pale, freckly, and ginger: two girls, a little bigger than she is, and a boy who’s just a little smaller, playing on the rug together, the woman in the rocking chair and the babe in her arms, and a bushy-bearded man talking to someone on the other side of a mostly closed door.

            “Ah’m telling ye, ah don’t know nothing about no journals,” the man insists in a strong Scottish accent. “I already told ye to clear off, stranger. Last warning.”

            Bam! The coziness of the cottage is suddenly disrupted as the red-headed man gets blasted across the room, his head slamming on the floor. The woman jumps up, reaching for a hunting musket propped up on the mantle as a dark-haired man enters the room with a distinct look of insanity in his eyes.

            “Where are they?” the man snaps, pointing what is unmistakably a wand at the woman.

            “We don’t know! We dinna know our neighbors tha’ well! Leave our bairns alone!”

            “Your husband lies, and so do you, muggle filth- you took the missing journal when you took their child! You seek a power that is not yours!”

            There’s a loud bang as the gun goes off, bouncing off the crazed wizard’s shield charm and shattering a window. The woman’s scream is cut off in a flash of green light as Kitty and the little boy flee up the stairs. There’s another flash of green light and a thud as the little boy’s body tumbles backwards. Little Kitty throws herself into a wardrobe, shaking with fear, as the sound of the wizard’s footsteps grow louder.

            “Come out here and talk to your uncle, Catherine!” the wizard shouts. “I only want to know what you did with your mummy and daddy’s journal after I killed them!” He lets out a mad cackle as Kitty covers her face with her chubby little hands. “Found you!”

            Kitty screams, and suddenly the wizard jumps back with a surprised yell as thick hair starts growing out of every pore on his face, at the same time that a new voice yells, “Immobulus!” The wizard freezes, his wand falling from his hands, as hair continues to grow from his face, obscuring his vision, as chains wrap around the length of his body.

            “Hair-growing hex? Was that you, Loxias?” a woman’s voice asks.

            “No, expelliarmus was me,” a man replies, following the woman into the room. “You were right about him coming back to the scene of the crime. Spell worked like a charm, the second he set foot in Fanny’s house, we knew.”

            “You did good calling me in. Wish we could have nabbed him before he got to these poor muggles.” The woman rounds the corner and comes face to face with Little Kitty still hiding in the wardrobe. “Looks like we have a survivor,” she says, as I get a good look at her. She’s got a twisty scar running down the length of her high-set cheekbones, black hair pulled back into a sleek bun, icy blue eyes, and an auror uniform and badge identifying her as the head of the Auror office. “Was this your family, darling? I’m so sorry. You’re safe now. You might want to close your eyes when we go downstairs, though.”

            The memory dissolves in blue and black swirls and I find myself standing in the Map Chamber once again. I turn to Kitty to say something comforting, but before I can think of anything to say, Black grabs her arm, blurting, “Kitty, I know to find out who your parents were.”

Chapter Text

in which the cat is let out of the bag

Catherine Harris

            “What?”

            “I know how to find out who your parents were,” Regina repeats, her grip like iron on my wrist. “That witch, the head of the Auror Office, is my Aunt Iola. She was up for Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before my grandfather ruined her life. I’m technically not supposed to speak to her, but I can sneak in a visit for something like this.”

            My head is spinning. I’m a little shocked by how detailed the memory was. I wouldn’t have been able to recall all those details on my own. I can see how a pensieve could be useful in an everyday circumstance. By Merlin, what if I can find out who my parents were?     “Okay,” I decide, laughing nervously. “Okay, let’s do it.”

            “First we’ll need to change into proper calling attire,” Regina says. “She’ll be in London this time of year. She’s retired, she’ll be home. Come on, let’s go change and we’ll all meet down by the front gate.”

            “Well, hang on. Kitty, do you want all of us to be there for this?” Tae asks.

            “Er, yeah. Yeah, I do. Can- can Sebastian come too?”

            “I don’t see why not,” Regina decides, shrugging. “Come on, then.”

            “Are you certain that you are done here?” Professor Rackham calls.

            “Yeah, I can’t think of anything else we needed to do,” Regina says. “Kitty’s been waiting all her life to find this out, this is important. We need to do this for her.”

            “Thank you,” I say, as we head back up the stairs. “I- I know that it’s, like, significant, for you to be doing this, since you aren’t supposed to.”

            “Of course. You’re my friend.”     

            “Well... I appreciate it. I haven’t been the best friend, I guess.”

            “It’s fine. You have a lot to adjust to.”

            I feel like my stomach’s been tied in knots and it’s starting to untwist and relax, but also simultaneously full of nervous energy. I hurry upstairs and change into my blue plaid day dress and silk jacket and put my hat and gloves on. I find Sebastian in the common room on the sofa by the fire and sit down next to him.

            “Hey. Wanna go to London?”

            “London? What for?”

            “So, it turns out that one of the people who rescued me from the crazy wizard that killed the Harris family was Regina’s aunt, and we’re going to go see if she knows anything about who my real parents were.”

            “No way.”

            “Yeah! Will you come?”

            “Yeah, absolutely,” he says, folding the corner of his page and putting his book down. “D’you think I should change? Yeah, Regina’s gonna make me change, so I may as well go ahead and do it, huh?”

            By the time we all meet down at the front gate, I’ve had a little more time to process the fact that today might be the day I find out the one thing I’ve always wanted to know, so obviously, I’m even more nervous and excited and unsure. Sebastian squeezes my hand and then we link arms with Regina and apparate to a discreet corner in Chelsea, somewhere near the Egerton gardens. It’s pretty dull this time of year, but the streets are still fairly busy. Regina pulls the brim of her hat low over her face as we approach her aunt’s front door. She knocks, a footman answers, and we are escorted promptly into the parlor, where hardly a minute goes by before Regina’s Aunt Iola Hitchens enters, looking much like she did in my memory, albeit a little more grey. If Regina is surprised, she manages to hide it, but Rosalinde’s eyes go wide at the sight of Ms. Hitchens’ puffy, floral trousers.

            “Well, well, if it isn’t my only decent relation,” Ms. Hitchens remarks, puffing on a cigar. “And you’ve brought company. What’s going on here? What’s all this about?”      

            “We actually have some questions for you regarding your work,” Regina explains. “You see, my friend Miss Harris was involved in a rather messy incident some time ago, it would have been around... Kitty, do you know what year it would have been?”

            “I think… 1881?”

            “Yes, a muggle family was killed in Scotland in 1881. My friend-”

            “Dorian Morganach.”

            “Pardon?”

            “That’s the killer.” Ms. Hitchens vanishes the rest of her cigar with a wave of her wand. “That capture was the highlight of my career. He was barking mad. He finally died in Azkaban about three years back.”

            “Do you remember the muggle family he killed?” I ask.

            “Indeed I do.”

            “Auntie,” Regina says, “Now would be a good time to be a little more forthcoming.”

            Ms. Hitchens raises a single thin eyebrow. “Story time?”

            Regina sighs. “Story time.”

            “Alright, everyone take a seat,” Ms. Hitchens orders, sounding gleeful. “I hardly ever get to tell anyone stories, besides Bob, of course. Let’s see, where do I begin? I suppose with the Morganachs. They were an old wizarding family-”

            “I’m sorry, did you say ‘Morganach?’” Sebastian asks.

            “That is correct. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of them?”

            “As a matter of fact, we all have,” I confirm, sharing an excited glance with Sebastian.

            “Well, they were a decently old wizarding family, dating back to the fifteenth century or so, but they were declining, and unstable. There were two brothers, Ephraim and Dorian Morganach, and they were the last of the family. Ephraim lived a normal life for the most part. He was a chaser for Pride of Portree, he had a wife named Frances, and they were generally well-liked all around. Then around…. It must have been 1876 or so, yes- Dorian killed them both. It was their neighbors, a muggle family by the name of Harris, who first discovered their bodies and reported to the local Muggle authorities, but eventually, the Ministry got involved and straightened things out with the muggles. But by then, Dorian had disappeared without a trace. A little bit of investigation revealed he had stolen something from his brother- he left the panel open to the secret space in the wall, but we had no way of knowing what he’d taken. But something in my gut told me he was coming back, so I stationed an Auror at the Morganach’s cottage. Well, fast forward five years, we still haven’t found him, and he attempts to break into Gringotts. He was unsuccessful, but he escaped again, and a goblin was killed. The pressure to capture him was high. So when the Auror stationed up near Portree called me in, I went straight to Scotland. Dorian had come back to search the house again, and after he tore it apart, he attacked their muggle neighbors. That’s where we captured him. We confiscated several goblin journals detailing the locations of sources of ancient magic. Our head of department ordered us to hush it all up until we knew more, and a specialist was put in charge of further investigation. Dorian Morganach was missing a journal, you see. That’s what he was so determined to find. It was supposed to contain an even greater source of power, but it was obviously a load of tosh. Just the kind of thing that the goblins would find amusement in baiting a wizard with- magic that no one can actually see or use- and Dorian took the bait. But Miriam was convinced that there was more to it-”

            “Miriam?” Regina asks, “Do you mean Miriam Fig?”

            “Yes, the specialist- I forgot her husband teaches at Hogwarts! Poor Eleazar, we were all torn up when we heard what happened. She devoted the rest of her life to that research, apparently she was starting to make some headway before the journals were stolen from her. I didn’t put much stock into any of it until that happened, now I wish we’d gotten to the bottom of it.”

            “Is- is no one trying to solve it?”

            “No, not anymore,” Ms. Hitchens replies, with a mellow shrug. “The new Head of the Auror Office is an imbecile, curse my father’s bones.”

            “Well, this has all been very enlightening,” Regina says. “Thank you so much. We should probably head back to the castle now, before my father starts to wonder where I am.”

            “That would be wise. Thank you for paying me a visit, Regina, I always appreciate it.”

            We bid her good day and disapparate straight from her parlor to the Three Broomsticks. Sebastian takes my arm and we get a table and sit down. Sirona brings us all butterbeers and we sit there for a good several minutes before any of us says anything.

            “So… wow, I- my head is absolutely swimming. That was a lot to take in. I didn’t expect all this to be tied up with… our other mystery,” I laugh, shifting in my chair. “D’you think they were my parents?”

            “Ephraim and Frances Morganach? That is what the evidence points to,” Rosalinde muses. “In your memory, Dorian refers to himself as your uncle and confesses to murdering his brother. The Harrises were the first to discover the bodies. Perhaps they took you to keep you safe and simply didn’t tell anybody.”

            “Alright. Okay, so… I’m related… to Isidora.”

            Regina purses her lip. “That does indeed seem to be the case.”

            “So, Isidora kept journals about these ancient magic sources and passed them down,” Rosalinde says, “And your uncle… killed your parents for them. Then the Ministry confiscated them, and Miriam Fig took them to do research, and then they were stolen from her.”

            “How did Professor Fig’s wife die?” I ask.

            “I don’t know. He won’t talk about it,” Regina admits, “But I know that it was… very unexpected.”

            “The pieces are starting to come together a little bit more,” Tae says, taking a sip of their butterbeer. “I have to admit, this is a little exciting.”

            “One thing, can we maybe not tell the Keepers about this?” I ask. “If you guys are right and they don’t trust Isidora… I don’t want them to judge me because of it.”

            “Of course. You aren’t the family you come from,” Regina promises.

            “Yeah. Especially since I can’t even remember them.”

            “How does it feel?” Sebastian asks, squeezing my hand.

            “I don’t know. Weird. No, it doesn’t feel different at all. That’s why it’s weird. I thought- I thought it would feel different. But… I guess nothing’s really changed about me, huh?”

Chapter Text

in which an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind

Chapel Allerton, Leeds, Spring 1884

            “May I help you, ma’am?”

            “Is it alright if I come in?”

            “Of course, would you like some tea?”

            “That would be nice, thank you.”

            “Any cream or sugar?”

            “Look, I… well, okay, this will sound crazy.”

            “You might be surprised. Go on.”

            “I… we’ve noticed some… odd… things… if that makes any sense… you grow some very strange plants, and, well, odd things just seem to happen around here.”

            “Hmm. I’m an odd man. Go on.”

            “Well… okay, I’ll just get straight to the point. Erm, have you ever heard the word… ‘Hogwarts?’”

            “As a matter of fact, I have.”

            “Oh! Praise the Lord. I was hoping you would be able to help us. You see, my son just turned eleven, and he’s received a letter in the post inviting him to a- a magic school. My husband thought it was an odd sort of joke, but my son, he’s certain that it’s real. I- is it?”

            “It is indeed. Your son is what we would call ‘muggle-born,’ a magical child born to non-magical parents. It’s really quite common, nothing to be afraid of.”

            “Oh, thank you. I’ve been so worried for my son. I want what’s best for him, but our church is very strict about that sort of thing. Would you mind coming over for dinner later to answer a few questions we have? I- I just want my son to be happy.”

            “Of course, I’d be happy to help.”

            “Oh, thank you! Have a wonderful afternoon, sir, we shall see you for dinner.”

            “Thank you, madam, you as well.”

            “What was that all about?”

            “Ah. I should have known you were listening. Well, it seems your ‘savage’ neighbor friend will be going to Hogwarts with you.”

            “D’you really think they’ll let him?”

            “I think so, yes. Seems that muggles aren’t so bad after all, no?”

Jung-Soon Tae

            “They’re finally starting to build a case against him,” Natty sighs, “But it’s going to take months to convict him. That’s if he even shows up to court. Until then, he is free to keep causing harm to innocent people.”

            “There’s got to be a way to speed the process up,” Poppy mutters, crumpling up a sheet of parchment. “Rosalinde, what if your family put some pressure on the Ministry to get it done?”

            “Well… we could certainly try. My father is a high-ranking, respected member of the Wizengamot, but unfortunately, the Head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement is in the pockets of the Black family.”

            “Regina’s family?” I ask. “She could talk to them.”

            “No… well, she might, but I don’t think so. That’s one of the things she’d… rather not do.”

            “I’ll talk to her,” I decide. “I have something else I want to talk to her about anyways.”

            “Volunteering to talk to Miss Black, eh?” Florence asks, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly is going on here? Ah, don’ you shrug a’ me! Ah know when something’s afoot.”

            “Alright, alright, if you must know… there is something going on, and I want to explain it to you, but Black doesn’t want Kitty telling one of her friends and we all promised not to tell any of our friends so that it would be fair. So… how about I promise to explain eventually?”

            “Wha’ever you fancy,” Florence laughs.

            “Yeah. Hey, actually, could I ask you guys something?”

            “Sure, go ahead,” Junius says. He and Florence follow me through the door of the Hufflepuff common room.

            “Do you think I might have… a problem with… I don’t know…. forgiving…. myself?”

            They share a look and I immediately know I’m in trouble. “Tae, we’ve been trying to tell you this for years,” Junius says, “You’re way too hard on yourself.”

            “Oh, wow. Okay. Erm…”

            “Want to sit for a minute?”

            “Sure, I guess. Erm… well, okay, erm, I dunno why it took me so long to realize. I think I try to be nicer to myself but it’s like there’s this voice in my head that won’t. I don’t like it,” I realize, “it’s not me. I mean, it is me, cause, y’know, it’s in my head, but it doesn’t always feel like me.”

            “Sometimes loud people get in your head and stay there,” Florence says, tossing her ginger curls. “Like me sister. I love Hecuba, but I don’t like to hear her in me head. Maybe it’s yer mam’s voice, still trying to make you hate everything.”

            “I- I don’t know, you really think so? I mean, by now, I’ve been away from her longer than I ever lived with her.”

            “You’ll have to do some soul-searching, I suppose,” Junius concludes. “In the meantime, good luck with Black.”

            “Thanks.”

            Arranging a meeting with Black isn’t as hard as I thought it would be, given that she and Gaunt are sitting alone at lunch and I don’t have to approach half of Slytherin house to get to her. She agrees to meet at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade around dinnertime, and I head back down to my common room to pace anxiously and wonder why I’m so distressed by the idea of not being able to forgive myself. Probably because I don’t want to be like my mother, you couldn’t pay her to forgive you for breathing in the wrong direction, but what do I need to forgive myself for? Is it little things that accumulate? Is there something big I’m missing? Do I just need to tell the obnoxious voice in my head telling me that I’ll never figure it out to cool it?

            Finally, it’s time to go down to Hogsmeade and meet Black. I really need to think about making myself a new winter coat- my hands are frozen by the time I reach the Three Broomsticks.

            “So, what did you want to discuss?”

            “Okay, so…. Here’s what’s going on. I don’t know how much you’ve heard since helping us with the… the nab-sacks, but since then, Natsai Onai and I have been working to take down Theophilus Harlowe. We’ve gathered quite a bit of evidence to build a strong case against him, but… you know how the system works, everything takes forever, plus, he’s got some inside friends who have done a pretty good job so far of making sure that nothing sticks to him. I… heard…. that the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is… in your family’s… pockets- and to be clear, I don’t- I don’t really think he should be in anyone’s pocket, but since he’s in your family’s pockets, we… were hoping your family could… maybe… give him a nudge in the… ethical direction?”

            “Wow, you really hated that, didn’t you?”

            “Yes, yes I did.”

            “Well, good job anyways, it was a very wise move. I’ll have to think about how to go about doing it. If it was up my father, that would be one thing. I know how to work on him when it’s something really worth addressing. But this would be more of a decision for my Uncle Sirius, and my family is really trying to tread carefully with him right now.”

            “Why?”

            “It’s really complicated. Basically, ever since my Grandfather passed- if he was still alive, trust me, these Ashwinders would never have gained any traction, my Grandfather was extremely classist and hated people like Rookwood- but ever since he passed, Uncle Sirius has been the head of the Black family since he’s older than my father. But he doesn’t have any sons, he has three daughters, so when he passes, my father would be the next head of the family, and then my older brother Sirius. So what happens to his three daughters after he dies depends almost entirely on my father and my brother. Essentially, he currently has all the power but none of the safety that should occupy that power, which makes him dangerous. Well, the solution is easy, right? My brother Sirius marries his daughter, my cousin Cordelia, all the power and money stay in the family, his daughters will be taken care of, future secure, problem solved. But then Sirius decided to be an idiot and marry someone else because he doesn’t want his children to be inbred.”

            “That… seems like a rational thing to want.”

            “Right, and I understand, I really do, but our whole family is paying the price for it. He has so much coming to him, he’ll get to command the Black name someday, this was the one sacrifice we asked him to make and he just couldn’t do it. Anyways… in order to do what you’re asking me, I’ll have to talk to my father first and clear it with him before I even reach out to my uncle, and I’ll have to figure out a way to frame it to convince each of them.”

            “That’s great.”

            “Yeah, I’m going to do it because I think it’s worth it, but I need you to know that you’re asking a lot of me.”

            Merlin, she’s demanding. You’re just asking her to talk to a couple people, not sacrifice her firstborn child. You’d think she could just do the right thing without needed a gold medal for it for once. I take a sip of my butterbeer, scowling a little as I suddenly recognize that that’s the voice in my head that I don’t like. You know what? You can shut up. It’s normal to want appreciation for doing a thing. I can just thank her and move on. I swallow my butterbeer and try to make the words come out. What ends up coming out instead is, “I think I would have to know what your family is like in order to really appreciate it.”

            “Pardon?”

            “You never shared your worst memory with us. Don’t think I didn’t notice- you might have put it out of Kitty’s mind, but I won’t be distracted so easily.”

            “Aha. Guilty as charged,” she chuckles, taking a sip. “I don’t want to share my memory with them. They’ll just pity me, and I hate pity. You must know what that’s like.”

            “Yeah, sort of. I assumed you’d feel better about it by the time we got to you, but if you still don’t want to share after seeing mine and Kitty’s, well, I’m getting kind of nervous. I mean, everyone has their ups and downs, but I didn’t think your life was… that bad.”

            She drums her fingers together on the table, then quietly says, “I wouldn’t be the way that I am if I hadn’t grown up having to plan my every move. I’m sure you know that by now.”

            “Yeah, well… you might also be right about me not being able to forgive myself. I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

            “Give it time.”

            “If you ever do decide to share your memory, I promise not to pity you.”

            “Oh, I trust you on that account. I would show you, actually, but the issue is, I have a couple different contenders for worst memory and I’m trying to decide which one takes first place.”

            “Fair enough. I kind of just picked the moment I felt really summed it all up the best.”

            “Hmm. In that case, would you like to see my worst memory?”

            “What, right now?”

            “We would have to go back to the map chamber first.”

            “Alright.”

            “But keep it quiet. I don’t really want to share this with anyone else yet.”

Chapter Text

in which the only way to find a friend is to be one

Jung-Soon Tae

            We exit the Three Broomsticks and apparate as close as we can get to the castle and quietly head down to the Map chamber. Professor Rackham and Headmistress Fitzgerald are not currently occupying their portrait frames, and Professor Rookwood is fast asleep, snoring loudly. The Pensieve basin is sitting just where we left it yesterday, as if it’s been waiting for us. Black stretches, twisting her neck, then pulls a glowing strand from her temple and lets it drift into the basin. We share a glance, she sighs, and without another word, we stick our faces into the pensieve.

            I squint around the darkened room, a stone chamber with elegant furniture and carved serpents. This must be the Slytherin common room. Hearing footsteps on the staircase, I turn and see a much younger version of Regina Black making her way down from the Witches' dormitories to the common room, clutching her dressing gown around her shoulders. As she makes her way toward the door, a voice suddenly says, "Where are you going?"

Black turns, startled. "How about you go back to minding your own business, Gaunt?"

"Sibylla's concerned about you," Gaunt says, showing her the gleaming snake wrapped around his forearm. 

"I thought you weren't talking to me," Black snaps.

“Well, Sibylla told me everything,” he replies, standing. “She tells me that she’s heard you screaming. What do you think that’s all about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, okay? I don’t have time for your games. I have classes to ace, contests to win, detentions to serve, and people to please, and you are getting in the way. Go back to bed.”

“You go back to bed.”

“I will, okay? I just need to use the bathroom!”

“I think you’re lying to me.”

“Stop worrying about it. Leave me alone.”

Gaunt follows her toward the common room door, saying, "I know how hard it is to talk about- I understand better than anyone else could! Please talk to me. I won't tell anyone else if that's what you're worried about. Regina! It's only going to get worse if you don't tell anyone. Who's-"

"It was me, okay?" She suddenly cries, rounding on him. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. Just go back to bed."

He freezes, looking completely aghast. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm tough," she sneers. "If nobody can hurt me as much as I can, then I can survive anything. And if someone tried to force me to do something I didn't want to, guess what? There's nothing they can do to make me do it. I can handle the torture curse. I can break the Imperius curse. Maybe you should try to toughen up sometime."

Black’s hands are shaking now as she steps out of the common room door. Gaunt doesn't do anything to anything to stop her this time, seeming too shocked to say a word.

I watch in horror as Black makes her way to the girl's bathroom and glares at herself with more hatred than I've ever seen on her face before pointing her wand at her own chest, declaring, "Crucio!" 

Her expression rapidly shifts to one of intense agony as she grits her teeth. She collapses to her knees, but keeps her wand pointed at herself, gasping in pain. Suddenly, the bathroom door bursts open, and Gaunt yells, "Stop!" 

Black quickly stands up, wiping sweat off her brow. They stare at each other for a second, then, in a tone of quiet fury, she asks, "Why did you follow me?"

"You- you can go mad if you push it too far, I've seen it happen to muggles. You're my best friend. I won't let you do this to yourself."

"You're wasting your time," she mutters, glaring at the mirror again. "Besides... I deserve it, don't I?"

"What?"

"I said, I deserve it! I'm a horrible person, I hurt people that don't deserve it, I say awful things to my best friend when I'm angry, I-" Black breaks down into tears, sobbing, "It hurt a lot when you wouldn't talk to me yesterday, I realized that I cared too much about what you and Anne and Bash think about me and I- I got scared!"

Gaunt makes his way across the bathroom toward her and awkwardly hugs her. She seems startled, but then flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'm so sorry, Regina." 

After a few moments when she's calmed down enough, they slump down to sit on the floor, leaning against the bathroom wall together, and he asks, "Where did you learn that curse?" 

"Sirius," she admits. "He used it on me right after he got back from first year at Hogwarts. He said I wouldn't be in Slytherin, until I didn't cry anymore. I know now that- that he was just- I hate myself, for falling for it." 

"You can't hate yourself for being a child," Gaunt says. "If that was after Sirius's first year, you would have been... eight?" 

"Yeah... I was eight." She shudders. "I've never told anyone this before. Please... Please don't tell either of the twins about any of this. They wouldn't understand."

“I won’t, but you have to stop doing this.”

“I can’t,” she insists, tearing up again. “This- this is what they do to me every time I mess up. I have to be able to take it when I mess up and wear the wrong dress at the wrong time at family Christmas, or my little brother acts up and it’s somehow my fault, or when I’m supposed to be a grown-up and I’m not because that’s not how life works. When I mess up, because I can’t control every factor in the universe, but what I can control is how I take it.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, I guess we have a problem.”

She rolls her eyes, sighing, “What?”

“I can’t just let someone torture my friend, you see,” he says, pretending to be deep in thought. “I think the appropriate thing to do in a situation where my friend is being tortured is to offer myself up to be tortured instead.”

“What? No! That’s horrible! I’m not torturing you! You’re my friend.”

“Then don’t torture my friend!”

“Fine!” she huffs, crossing her arms. He purses his lips as she sits there, looking very cross, until a little laugh breaks past her scowl. I watch as the dimly lit bathroom dissolves in swirls of teal vapor.

“Wow,” Black says, awkwardly tapping her ankle. “I forgot about how dramatic I was, ha.”

“Was that after the Incident?”

“I think so. I said something about detentions, so it must have been.”

“I… after the Incident, I wanted you to face justice,” I admit. “That wasn’t it. That wasn’t justice. I’m so sorry.”

She just nods. “I’ll try to find a way to convince my uncle to deal with Rookwood and Harlowe.”

“Thanks, Black.”

“Oh… you can call me Regina.”

“Erm… okay?”

She stares at me as if she’s waiting for something, then lets out a haughty sniff, crisply saying, “Have a good evening, then.”

“What d’you think that was all about?” I ask my friends, after giving them a very basic summary of what happened (leaving the part with the pensieve completely out and making it sound like the very last bit was how our dinner conversation ended)

“Tae, ye dimwit, that was her way of asking if you want to be friends now,” Florence bursts out. “That’s high society manners for you. You give someone permission to use your given name when you trust them and want to be friends with them.”

“Oh, dear. I’ll have to patch that up, I suppose.”

“So, you want to be friends with her, then?”

“Yeah. I think we understand each other better now.”

Chapter Text

in which forewarned is forearmed

Rosalinde Iolanthe Peverell

            “How long is this going to take? I don’t want to miss any of my afternoon classes.”

            “This is really important. I’m missing Alchemy and Kitty’s missing Care of Magical Creatures,” I explain, “because I finally heard from Lodgok. He needs us to meet him as soon as possible. His plan with the helmet didn’t quite work, but he knows where to get the information we need.”

            “Alright, then, I’ll get changed.”

            “Thank you, Regina.”

            The four of us meet by the castle gates, dressed warmly for the weather. “What, no pants?” Regina teases, elbowing Kitty.

            “Oh, er… not anymore,” she replies, flushing.

            “Come now, you needn’t dress on my account.”

            “No, I think there was… a good reason for the rule, you know?”

            “Alright, who do I need to curse?” Regina demands, throwing her hands on her hip. “What happened?”

            “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean, it’s just cold. Come on, we better go, Lodgok is waiting.”

            Tae and I share a wary glance as Regina grabs Kitty’s arm and disapparates. We follow suit, ending up on a snowy cliffside above a goblin encampment. To the left, Lodgok is pacing several meters away, and to the right, Regina has a firm grip on Kitty’s shoulder and is attempting to interrogate her.

            “Yeah, when I said rules, I was literally referring to the weather!” Kitty insists. “A skirt keeps both of my legs warm better when it’s cold. Nothing happened.”

            “Very well then, let’s not keep Lodgok waiting.”

            “There you are- thank you for being so prompt. We have a very short window for investigation,” Lodgok says.

            “What happened with the helm?” Tae asks.

            “Unfortunately, because he knew the details surrounding its plunder, he presumed I’d had help from a witch or wizard in retrieving it.”

            “Were you not expecting that?” Regina asks.

            “We do not have the luxury of rational expectation when it comes to Ranrok. Damn Bragbor and his blasted journals,” Lodgok grumbles.

            “Journals?” I ask, quickly glancing at the others. This sounds like what we heard from Regina’s aunt!

            “An ancestor of Ranrok’s. Renowned metal-worker. I suppose if we are to work together, I must tell you more,” Lodgok sighs. “Not long ago, Ranrok sent me to collect a recently-unearthed set of Bragbor’s journals. They described ‘repositories’ that Bragbor had been commissioned to build for a group of witches and wizards.”

            “What’s a repository?” Kitty asks, wrinkling her nose.

            “Large, magically fortified receptacles crafted from goblin metal. Ranrok recruited others to help me locate the repositories. We were to search anywhere that was connected to one of five names mentioned in the journals: Rackham, Fitzgerald, Bakar, Rookwood, and Morganach. Rookwood Castle is where we began our search.”

            “Do you know why Ranrok cares so much about these repositories?” I carefully ask.

            “He cares about what they contain,” Lodgok reveals, a little bitterly. “For centuries, wizards have refused to share their magical knowledge with goblins. Your kind will not even let us carry wands. Thus, many goblins, myself included, have spent our lives mistrusting wizardkind. Ranrok was convinced that the repositories contained a magical power that wizards wanted to keep for themselves.”

            “And he was right, wasn’t he?” Regina says.

            “Yes. He was. But we had better discuss this more later. As I said previously, we only have a narrow window. Miss Peverell, you will need to your gobbledegook skills to decipher written plans, as I cannot join you in the mine. Ranrok’s plans are in that mine, I am absolutely certain of this, but I cannot risk anyone reporting my presence to Ranrok. All you need to do is not be seen, either by the eye above the enchanted door, or by loitering loyalists.”

            “Understood.” As we set off down the slope toward the mine entrance, I add, “Best part is, all I have to do is get a good look at the plans and we’re all set. Then we can leave them right where we found them and no one will suspect a thing!”

            “Brilliant,” Tae replies, smiling. “Should we go ahead and use disillusionment charms?”

            We all turn invisible and sneak through the goblin encampment, which is mostly empty, toward the wide metal door blocking the mine entrance. A large green mechanical eyeball is spinning round and round in a metal socket lodged at the top of the doorframe.

            “Is there a way to open it discreetly?” Kitty whispers.

            “Probably not. We had better wait.”

            We crouch by the door to the mine for approximately ten minutes before a group of goblins open it up from the inside and emerge spitting and laughing. We carefully sneak around them and through the entrance just before the door closes. “Everyone here?” I whisper.

            “Me.”

            “I’m here.”

            “Yes, let’s go.”

            Almost immediately inside, we find a lift leading downward into a spacious chasm full of pipes and engines. We sneak our way past some goblins in a boiler room and through a tunnel before we find some sort of office with the first bit of evidence.

            “A schematic,” I murmur, taking in every inch of the loose sheaf of parchment strewn across the table. “We’ll get to the bottom of whatever they’re building down here.”

            The evidence seems to suggest that they are building something rather large. Dread starts to build up in the pit of my stomach as we sneak past an enormous forge. Carts of metal are zipping up and down the tracks busily, keeping up with the air of urgency that permeates the whole place. I knew this place would be complex, but all these boilers… it’s more complex than I expected.

            “I don’t see myself doing something like this forever,” one of the goblins casually tells another as we crawl past, “I fink I’ll have my own operation someday. People working for me, fancy that.”

            We’ve reached a massive room, with no clear way forward. I decide to try a smaller door and hope my friends follow me. I start to move toward the door, my heart lurching into my throat as one of the goblins sharply calls, “is someone there?”

            I freeze. I can’t see the others, but I know they’re frozen too. After a second the goblin shrugs, muttering, “Must’ve been my imagination.” Breathing a sigh of relief, I slip through the door into a smaller chamber.

            A desk. This must be the main office, yes. And right there, on the center of the table, is a blueprint, spread wide open for anyone to look at and memorize. The feeling of triumph quickly vanishes, though, as I glance over the blueprint.

            “This is not good,” I whisper, in case any of my friends followed me in. “They’re building enormous drills. Bigger than this mine could contain,” I add, squinting at the dimensions jotted down on the sheaf of parchment. I commit every line to memory, then replace it and head toward the door. “I’ve seen what I needed to see. Let’s get back and tell Lodgok what we’ve found.”

Chapter Text

in which every stick has two ends

Jung-Soon Tae

            “They’re building enormous drills,” Rosalinde informs Lodgok, “We found their plans. Ranrok must be searching for these repositories.”

            Lodgok grimaces, clutching his skull. “I feared as much. The only good news is that after Rookwood Castle, he does not know where to search.”

            “I have a question,” Kitty says. “You said before we entered the mines that you share Ranrok’s views.”

            “That’s not exactly what I-”

            “Why are you helping us?”

            Lodgok sighs deeply. “I expected Rookwood Castle to be deserted when I arrived to begin my search, so I was surprised to find a witch there who had set up a sort of improvised research site. She was studying something so intently that she almost didn’t notice me. When she looked up, I thought she would react with fear or disdain, but instead she did something I’ll never forget. Without a moment’s hesitation, she smiled at me and asked me to sit with her. She told me that she was a researcher, and showed me a small, oddly shaped container with a strange sort of symbol on it. She was certain it was made of goblin metal, but was unable to open it. She… wanted to work together.”

            “Miriam,” Rosalinde murmurs.

            “Yes, I- how did you-?”

            “Professor Fig’s wife. He told us about her research, and I know of the container,” Kitty tells him.

            “Ah.” Lodgok turns away, wiping his eyes. After a moment, he continues, saying, “the reverence with which she talked about goblins and their intelligence and skill- it caught me entirely off guard. I had never been treated with such respect by a witch or a wizard, so- to my surprise- I allowed her to study the container, so long as she would let me search the castle on my own. We parted ways, with her promising to share what she’d learned. More of Ranrok’s recruits arrived, and we began to dig- eventually locating the first repository. Ranrok was thrilled with our discovery, but furious when I told him about Miriam. Berated me for trusting a witch. When I heard she’d been killed…”

            “Do you think Ranrok murdered her?” Black asks, an urgency to her voice.

            “I don’t want to believe it, but I don’t know,” Lodgok admits, shoulders slumping. “After that… something shifted in me. I had seen how the power from the repositories was transforming Ranrok- transforming all of them. I could no longer remain a part of it.”

            “Thank you for telling us this, Lodgok,” Rosalinde says.

            “I tell you all of this so that you understand what is at stake,” he urges. “Ranrok never found all of Bragbor’s journals, but the ones he did find suggest that Bragbor at some point built a repository far bigger in size than the one beneath Rookwood castle. What you’ve discovered here today worries me deeply. If Ranrok learns the location of that repository, I fear we shall be destined for a great war.”

            With that ominous warning ringing in our heads, we head back to the castle and go up to the room of requirement to warm up and try and put together all the pieces we’ve found in the last few days. “So, the journals that Dorian Morganach had were written by Bragbor,” Rosalinde says, scooping up a niffler and cuddling it to her chest. “Who was Ranrok’s ancestor, and therefore, in Ranrok’s mind, the journals belonged to goblinkind. It makes sense.”

            “So where is the last journal?” Kitty asks. “Also, are there more of those? I want to cuddle one.”

            As Rosalinde takes Kitty into the vivarium to find another niffler, I turn to Black- Regina, I mean, and say, “Hey, by the way, you can call me Tae. I didn’t realize that’s what you meant the other night, I’m sorry.”

            “Excellent,” she replies, without missing a beat, smiling pleasantly. “I’m glad you’ve finally realized that things go better for all of us when I’m in charge.”

            For a second, I freeze up, not sure how to respond. I don’t know why I thought she had changed at all. Then I laugh, at the absurdity of it all. You know what, I haven’t changed a whole lot yet either. Let’s just give it some time and see what happens.

            “I’ve had a thought,” Rosalinde says, as she and Kitty re-enter. “What if Miriam had the journal?”

            “Maybe,” Regina muses, furrowing her brow. “We know she had the container, and she sent it to Mr. Osric, and that’s how it ended up with Kitty. But if she sent the container to him, who would she have sent the journal to?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “I just wish we had a lead. Any lead at all,” I mutter.

            “Oh!” Rosalinde blurts. “We do!”

            “We do?”

            “Of course we do! The Keepers!” Rosalinde laughs, smacking her forehead. “This is what all this has been leading up to- the vault, the map chamber, the trials. They want to know if they can trust us, because then, they’re going to reveal the location of the final repository.”

To be continued…