Chapter 49 - part 4

Chapter 14: HogsmeadeSummary:Hazel begins her Patronus coaching in earnest, and later on makes her first visit to Hogsmeade. Madam Rosmerta is very distracting.

Chapter TextSeptember crawled by thus, Hazel struggling mightily to stay ahead of the game. Divination quickly became an exercise in sheer spite, and it was with some reluctance that she adopted Ron's method for dealing with the homework; namely, making up predictions as she went. Occasionally she'd get a glimpse of something during her fumbling attempts at scrying, but those never got her very good marks.

Hazel, Hermione and Padma were so far ahead in Arithmancy that Professor Vector decided they'd be better off being tutored on the weekends, so as to avoid boredom. Hazel groaned; if she didn't genuinely enjoy the class she would have had to refuse the offer. Apart from that she was also enjoying Potions and Care of Magical Creatures; Muggle Studies was strangely exciting, mostly because of Professor Burbage herself who seemed not to know that Hazel was developing a crush on her.

Of all the classes she was taking, it was Arithmancy and Ancient Runes that felt most familiar to her Muggle-raised outlook. It was mostly math and taking notes and struggling over translations, though they managed to be more interesting than History of Magic by far, which wasn't a high bar to clear of course.

One major benefit of being so busy: she rarely had nightmares anymore, so on the whole she counted herself quite fortunate, all things considered.

She continued meeting with Professor Snape for Occlumency lessons, and with Professor Lupin for coaching on the Patronus Charm. In both regards she was making progress; Snape and the books she had were leading her to fine control of her thoughts and emotions, to the point that her friends sometimes had to make sure she was still all there. And Lupin had begun teaching her other powerful spells in an effort to chip away at the seal on her core, after consulting with Professor Dumbledore first of course.

"He could probably have it lifted straight away, but you know how he is," Lupin explained one evening. "Always thinks it's better for a student to achieve something by their own effort."

"No arguments here," Hazel muttered, gripping her wand and focusing on the training dummy in front of her. After all, her primary ambition was to surpass her parents and become famous by her own effort.

Lupin just smiled. "So, the Animation Charm. You've seen it in action twice already, both times cast by Professor McGonagall?"

Twice? She thought back to her first year… "Oh yeah, that mad chess set down in… yeah."

"Quite. Now, the incantation is simple: Piertotum Locomotor!" He pointed the wand at the dummy, and it raised its arms, looked about, rolled around a bit before returning to its resting position. "You saw what Professor McGonagall could do with such a simple spell, yes? Now you try."

"Piertotum Locomotor!" she cried, pointing her wand at the dummy. Her wand thrummed and her chest burned, and the dummy moved obediently, rolling forward toward Lupin with its own wand raised to attack!

"Finite Incantatem!" he snapped, flicking his wand, and the dummy fell forward onto its face. "Well done, Hazel, did you feel anything?"

"Yeah, my chest burned and my wand did something, too." She was breathing hard, but exhilaration burned through her. "Let's try something else!"

"Very well." He flicked his wand and the dummy stood back up. "Try the Exploding Charm this time, Bombarda."

Hazel did so, and the dummy was thrown into the wall after a violent bang. "Hmm, didn't feel anything that time… maybe if I tried Bombarda Maxima?"

Lupin hesitated, then shrugged and backed away several steps. She grinned at that and faced the dummy again. "Bombarda Maxima!" This time the dummy was blown entirely to pieces! Lupin threw up a quick Shield Charm to keep the debris from hurting them. "Hell yeah, that did it!"

"Do mind your tongue, Hazel," he said reprovingly. "Vulgarity aside, that was very well done. You'll be a dueling terror one day." He cast the Mending Charm on the dummy and then checked the clock. "We're almost out of time, try the Patronus once more, then take some Wiggenweld and we'll call it a night. You've still got homework to do."

"Yes sir." She cleared her throat and stared the dummy down, focusing on the memory of her time with Luna over the summer. "Expecto Patronum!" A vast cloud of silver fog erupted from her wand, and she felt a rush of exhilaration and glee, which only grew when she was able to maintain it despite the pain in her chest! "Look! Look, I'm doing it!"

"Very good, Hazel!" he replied happily, and she missed the speculative look in his eyes. "You've made remarkable progress in just a few weeks, you truly have."

Feeling extremely pleased with herself, she lowered her wand and let the silver fog dissipate. "Thank you, sir, it means a lot to hear you say that." She wasn't finished, though, not with the Patronus Charm and not with anything else.

Lupin held out the familiar bottle, and she chugged most of it down, sighing as the green potion restored her magical stamina. "I've been brewing my own Wiggenweld, you know, you should save it for yourself," she told him as she stoppered it again and handed it back.

"I'd heard of that, yes," he replied mildly. "By all accounts you are an excellent Potions student, and none of your other teachers have ever said anything against you." He smiled tiredly. "Praise aside, you should go now. Take a break next week, and we'll continue meeting up in October."

"Yes sir." She gathered her things and went to the common room to do her homework. So much homework. It made her head hurt. Sadly she was getting used to that.

Quidditch practice three nights a week was more and more interesting, what with Flint mixing up the positions so everyone could practice outside their comfort zones. He worked Hazel and Draco especially hard, since one of them would have to be team captain next year, and they'd have to know all the positions so they could coach new players properly.

"It's not like we need more homework though," Draco groused on the way back, after Flint gave them battered copies of old flying manuals and asked them to write essays on the best tactics within.

"Get off it, Draco, you want to be Captain or not?" Hazel countered, slightly starry-eyed at the idea. It was something she'd have to earn by herself, and she looked forward to earning it; the little silver badge and the right to use the prefects' bathroom was just a bonus, to her.

In the common room, Millicent came over and sat down. "Hazel," she said, pulling out homework things.

"Millicent," Hazel replied easily enough. "Alright? I feel like we haven't seen each other much lately."

"I know, it's weird." They spent an hour doing their assignments and catching up, mostly about how their summers had gone; Millicent's home life sounded frightfully boring to Hazel, what with all the pureblood nonsense she had to put up with, and she was glad she'd spent time with the Weasleys despite the differences between them.

"So, do they treat you differently, for being a half blood?" Hazel asked, a bit hesitantly.

"Eh, I don't think so?" Millicent made a wishy-washy gesture with her hand. "I've only got one Muggle grandparent of course, so my mum was a halfblood, but since you need all magical grandparents to be a pureblood I'm a halfblood too."

"It's good that your family doesn't scorn Muggle-borns, otherwise you'd be all inbred and shit," Hazel said, frowning at her Muggle Studies essay.

That brought a snort of amusement. "Yeah, well, it's only the real crazies like the Blacks who get really obsessed with blood purity, isn't it? Look at the Malfoys, they'll talk the talk, but they're not afraid to get a little fresh blood into the family every other generation or so."

That wasn't very funny, but Hazel laughed a little anyway. "Sirius is alright, though maybe he gets a little excitable now and then."

"You haven't met his cousin Bella, then," she replied darkly. "I saw a memory of one time my dad met her…" The thought made her shudder. "Talk about unhinged!"

"I saw her boggart, though, that was bad enough!"

"Well what about you? Little miss overachiever, trying to make the rest of us look bad!"

"Hey, I have goals, okay?" Hazel countered, feigning defensiveness. "And I won't achieve them by settling for less than my best!"

At the week's dueling club, Hazel made an executive decision. "Since this is cutting into our study group time, we'll have to compromise," she told the others. "We'll take the club part as a practical side, but we need to spend a couple hours at the books, or else those high marks you've all gotten used to are gonna slip, and they'll disband us!"

There was a chorus of groans and boos. "I hatestudying!" was on more than one set of lips.

"If you don't like it, there's the door," and she pointed out the Great Hall. "You're mad if you think a teacher's gonna disagree with me on this, too!"

"Quite right," Professor McGonagall called from the sidelines. It was her turn to supervise tonight, it seemed.

That seemed to settle the matter, and after a little more muttering everyone lined up to practice spells. It was hard to decide which spells to practice; real dueling spells hurt, but you couldn't cast them at your friends. She remembered the wheeled dummy Lupin had acquired from somewhere, and wondered if there were any more.

"Professor McGonagall," she called, approaching the older woman, "can you conjure some training dummies for us to use? Professor Lupin had this big black one on wheels the other day, had a weird looking face and everything…"

"Of course, I should have considered that myself." She cleared her throat and raised her wand, twirling it to conjure several of the mechanical dummies with faint pops of displaced air. They appeared against the far wall, startling the students facing away from it. "I believe Miss Potter wishes to go over the Exploding Charm now?"

"Er, right. Watch me now." She stepped up and flicked her wand at one of the dummies. "Bombarda!" she yelled, and the dummy was knocked back with a loud bang. "See? It's a simple flick up and to the side, now you try it."

Shortly the hall was full of explosions and debris, as spells went awry and struck the walls. Hazel went from student to student, correcting aim or gesture as needed. She reached the end of the line and paused, wiping her forehead and pushing her bangs back. "Whew…"

"Have you considered teaching, Miss Potter?" Professor McGonagall suggested gently. "You certainly do have the knack."

"Do I?" The compliment was immensely flattering, and Hazel beamed up at her teacher. "Thanks, Professor!" She checked the time and groaned. "Right then, wands away! Time for books!" She gave the Professor a nod, who nodded back and waved the four tables back into place.

Of course, Hazel was still scribbling away when everyone else had given it up as a bad job. But what else could be expected? She had work to do, after all.

Before she knew it, it was October. Lupin had been sick the last week of September, and rumor had it that Snape had had to step in on the last couple days of the week, but since she had his class earlier on it didn't affect her so much. If it weren't for Occlumency, she was certain she'd have a permanent splitting headache; as it was, she merely had to contend with a dull ache behind her eyes.

But she refused to stop, or ease up on herself in any way. Because if she stopped, the nightmares would resume once more, and for all that she longed to hear her parents' last moments again, submitting to a Dementart was not anyone's idea of a good time.

"Hazel, look," Draco called one afternoon, waving her over to the notice board in the common room. "Hogsmeade visit this weekend! You're gonna go, right?"

"I sure am," she replied firmly, thinking of the signed permission slip that was waiting in her bag. She'd heard all about Hogsmeade from listening to the older students, especially Fred and George; about the Three Broomsticks and the lovely Madam Rosmerta, Zonko's Joke Shop, Madam Puddifoot's. She couldn't wait for the weekend!

Later in the week, Professor Snape had an announcement. "All third year students with signed Hogsmeade forms, please hand them in to your Head of House by Friday," he called out at the end of class. "If you do not have a signed form, you cannot go. There will be no evading this particular rule." His gaze lingered on some of the more troublesome students, but Hazel merely smiled. She had her form ready to go!

"Gran sent mine straight to McGonagall," she heard Neville saying to Ron and Seamus. "Glad she did, I probably would've lost it."

After class, she went up to Snape's desk. "Here's my form, Professor," and she put it down.

"Very good." He sneered slightly at Sirius' signature, but said nothing about it as he put the slip away. "Enjoy the village then, Potter."

Hazel stood there, confused for a second; for some reason she had expected something else. Oh well. "Thank you sir," she replied, bowing and turning to leave. She was starving all of a sudden! Though she hardly noticed what she ate, intent as she was on cramming in some more studying for her next class.

The rest of the week crawled by, the anticipation of Saturday's trip only making things worse. She wasn't sure if it helped or hindered when Flint approached them at dinner on Thursday. "No practice this weekend," he told them all, "I figure you'd all hate me for keeping you from the first trip to Hogsmeade. That and I've got to catch up on some shit, and my new vice captains aren't quite ready yet."

He winked at Hazel and Draco and went back to his part of the table, and Hazel grinned. No Quidditch, too! She might finally be able to catch up on homework and relax! They just had to make it through Friday…

Friday, of course, went by ridiculously slowly, as things did when one was anticipating some other event. And an actual weekend off was definitely worth anticipating! At the end of the day she ate dinner and dashed off to do all her homework so she would have all of Saturday without any worries

Finally, Saturday morning arrived, and she woke up even earlier than usual despite having stayed up so late the night before. "Hogsmeade, Hogsmeade~" she sang as she got ready, taking time to doll herself up a little in the mirror. At least until she remembered Luna couldn't go, whereupon she scowled, wiped it all off her face and did her hair up in a braid to keep it out of her eyes. What was she doing anyway?

After breakfast she went to queue up with the others, humming happily while Filch checked everyone against a long list. "Potter, Potter… tsh." Clearly he wanted to catch someone in the act of trying to leave without permission, and waved her on with a sour expression.

"He's a right old cunt," she muttered as she joined her friends and trooped on down to the village. "I wonder why Dumbledore keeps him around, anyway?"

"Not for cleaning, the castle has house-elves for that," Ron replied with a shrug. "I guess for detentions? And things that the professors don't have time for?"

"Like checking us off some mad list," Draco muttered. "As if anyone would try and sneak off…"

"Are you kidding? If Hogsmeade is as great as people say, I'm sure everyone has their hands full!" Hazel replied. "Now come on, we're falling behind." She led the way down the beaten path, and bit by bit the village appeared ahead of them.

Hogsmeade, it turned out, was a quaint old village with a lively main drag. Hazel saw all the common favorites right away, like the Three Broomsticks and Zonko's Joke Shop, and a few others that also looked interesting like Dervish & Banges, or Spintwitches Sporting Needs. Past the shops was a scattering of houses, but she rather figured those were off limits for students.

"Let's get some butterbeer," she decided, and they ducked into the Three Broomsticks. It was crowded and bustling, but they found a decent table easily enough. "All sorts of folks here today, huh?"

"Hogsmeade is one of the only all-wizard settlements in Great Britain, after all," Hermione said.

"Good morning, m'dears!" a cheerful voice said, followed by the arrival of a short and very lovely blonde woman, wearing a form-fitting dress with an incredibly low neckline. "First time in Hogsmeade, is it? I'm Madam Rosmerta! What can I get ya?"

"Yes ma'am," Hermione answered, rolling her eyes at the others who'd lost their breaths. "Four butterbeers, please."

"Righto!" and she bustled off again, parting the crowd without them noticing.

"Wow," Ron muttered, looking a bit punchdrunk. "She was…"

"...gorgeous?" Hazel finished, shaking her head and blinking rapidly. "I can't wait to grow up!" Their drinks came quickly, and Rosmerta stayed to chat for a few moments, though Hazel wasn't sure what she was saying; she was too busy trying not to look down the woman's apron!

Eventually, Hermione rolled her eyes again and stood up. "Come on, get up you louts, before your brains run out from between your legs!" she growled, kicking them under the table until they got up too and left the building, bottles in hand. "It's good you're a celebrity, Hazel, these were on the house!"

"What?" Hazel replied, only half listening. "Wait, where are we going?" Hermione just scoffed and prodded her along, and the boys trailed along behind looking just as lost.

"Let's check Scrivenshaft's, I need a new quill," Hermione decided, leading the way.

"We should go back there when it's a bit slower," Ron muttered to Hazel, who nodded fervently in reply.

Chapter 15: The Room of RequirementSummary:Hazel and her friends are amazing secret-finders. That is all.

Chapter TextHours later they went back to Hogwarts with bags stuffed full of purchases and wallets considerably lightened. "I think we visited every shop in the village!" Hazel exclaimed, trying not to stagger and glad she'd been putting so much work into working out lately. "Scrivenshaft's, Zonko's, Honeyduke's…"

"How are we expected to keep any savings with that crazy place so close by?" Ron demanded happily, likewise loaded down.

"Let's put this stuff away and then go visit Hagrid after lunch, you guys," Hermione suggested. "I don't think anyone's been to see him since we got back, have we?" They all agreed, and after lunch the four of them ambled down to the gamekeeper's hut.

"Who'zere?" Hagrid called as Hazel knocked, joined by Fang's barking. A thump of heavy footsteps, and the door opened a crack. "Oh, s'you lot. C'mon in!" The door opened more, and Hagrid stood there beaming down at them. "Bin waitin' fer yeh t' come see me."

"Sorry, Hagrid, they're running us ragged up there," Hazel replied, walking in and sitting at the big table. Fang whimpered at her knee for a second and sniffed the other two before turning to Draco like he usually did, who only cringed a little before reaching down to pet at the great fuzzy head. "How've you been?"

"Arr, been a great time fer ol' Hagrid," the big man replied genially, bustling about to get tea ready. "Ministry reversed its ol' rulings thanks ter you, an' now I can do magic again! Bin catchin' up on what I missed, like, but I weren't never much of a books kinda student so it's kinda slow goin'..." He set down a heavy tray loaded with cups, a steaming kettle, and the usual assortment of barely-edible treats, which they knew by now to dunk in the tea for a while before biting into.

"I'm so happy for you, Hagrid!" Hermione exclaimed, dunking a piece of rock cake into her tea. "You're going to be a real wizard again!"

Hagrid looked pleased, but he waved the praise off all the same. "Ah, don't mean nothin'. Dumbledore stood by me whether I were a wizard 'r no, and I'm gonna stand by him jus' th' same. Ol' McGonagall thinks I gotta knack fer Transfiguration, bin havin' her NEWT students teachin' me summat now 'n then."

"But that's great, isn't it?" Hermione pressed. "McGonagall isn't easy to impress, you know, she wouldn't waste her time if-"

"Ah, Hermione, yer a good egg," and he grinned at her. "Hones'ly, I don't really need no wand. I'm faster 'n I look, 'n damn strong too. Mos' spells jus' sorta bounce offa me, ain't no Death Eater gonna git me any time soon!"

"I bet the makeup tests are pretty ridiculous for you at this point," Hazel suggested, rolling her eyes. Her cake was soft enough now so she took a nibble, and sipped at the tea.

"I'm doin' alrigh' on the practical bits. Like I said, s'all th' writin' 'n theoryin' I git caught up on."

Hazel looked around the cabin, and saw a small web up in the far corner. "Hagrid," she said, looking away from the web, "last year, when we were dealing with that diary, I saw one of Voldemort's memories-"

"Don't go bringin' up all 'at stuff," the gamekeeper insisted gruffly.

"It seemed like you guys knew each other, though, since you used your first names that night," she insisted, staring up at him.

Hagrid sighed. "Feels weird, talkin' 'bout You-Know-Who like 'at. Back when 'e were a person 'n not some monster. But back then 'e weren't You-Know-Who yet, 'e were jus' Tom Riddle, smart 'n popular 'n kind…"

Hazel and her friends were dead quiet, staring intently up at Hagrid as he told the story. "I dunno 'ow 'r why but he noticed me, 'elped me, even though we was in opposite Houses 'n all…"

"I think I know why," Draco said quietly. "You were different, Hagrid, you were big and strong, and- and you were kind of an oaf, too, weren't you? He probably thought he could use you, manipulate you, just like he used and manipulated everyone…"

"What a Slytherin thing to do," Hazel remarked, rolling her eyes. "You're probably right, though, Draco."

"Aye, soun's righ'. Anyway, 'e knew abou' Aragog, 'e did, helped me git 'im inter th' school 'n all, didn' tell no one… th' things I did cuz 'o tha'..."

Hazel shuddered to think of what Hagrid the Death Eater would have been capable of, had Voldemort not betrayed him, kept him in his inner circle. As a fully fledged wizard with his affinity for magical creatures, he would have been terrible indeed. "I think we're all glad you're still on our side, Hagrid," she said fervently. "Even if it was a crooked road that brought you here."

"What happened to Aragog, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, twisting her fingers anxiously and glancing at Ron, oddly enough.

"Off in th' depths o' th' Forbidden Forest," Hagrid explained happily. "Found a mate 'n started a clan, 'e did. Whole clutter of 'em, way in th' darkest parts. Aragog lets me 'n Fang drop by now 'n then, but no one else."

"Remind me never to go there, then!" Ron insisted, quite pale at all the talk of giant man-eating spiders.

"I still can't believe he tried to pin Myrtle's death on an acromantula, of all things," Hazel muttered, shaking her head. "And I really can't believe it worked for fifty years! Was I really the only one to realize an acromantula would have eaten her body? Was I the only one who talked to Myrtle about how she died?"

"Arr, I tried t' say summat, but no one was listenin' ter me any," Hagrid groused. "'Sides, who'd wanna talk ter Myrtle fer too long anyways? She weren't s' pleasant in life neither, all catty 'n shite."

"I gathered as much," Hazel replied. "It's nearly dinner time, we should head back to the castle. Thanks for having us, Hagrid." The others said the same, they all finished their tea, and climbed down to head off.

Dinner was lovely, but afterward Hazel was at a loss for what to do. She'd finished all her homework, Professor Vector wasn't expecting her, she didn't feel like working out… or did she? She recalled the twins' words about some secret room on the seventh floor, and while it wasn't much to go on, she knew where she could get better directions.

So she went to her dorm to get her Invisibility Cloak, and on a whim grabbed the Hand of Glory as well, just to see what it could do. And stashing both items beneath her cloak she went down to the kitchens, tickling the pear until the door appeared. As usual the elves were overjoyed to see her, and eager to ply her with whatever she wanted. "Just some tea, please," she said with a laugh, sitting down as usual. "So, Moxy, I had a question…"

"Anything for Miss Hazel Potter!" the little creature said breathlessly, hanging back while the others scurried about.

"Well, a few questions, maybe. Have you been feeding Regina like we agreed?"

"Yes! Moxy is being very scared of being down theres, but Moxy is brave and is doing whatever Miss Hazel Potter will ask!"

"And Regina's doing okay?"

"As far as Moxy can tells, miss! But Moxy is no expert on magical animals, miss, and cannot be understanding all the hissings and slitherings!" 

Her tea came, and Hazel busied herself dressing it up to her liking. "Mm… Okay then. I also was wondering if there's any place in the castle I could work out, or practice my spells without anyone knowing, or anything like that?"

Moxy's smile beamed even brighter, and she seemed about to start dancing with joy. "Moxy knows the perfect place, miss! It is a hidden room known to house-elves as the Room of Requirement!"

"Is it on the seventh floor, by some tapestry of trolls in skirts or something?" Hazel guessed out loud.

"Yes! Opposite the tapestry is a wide blank wall, miss! Walk by it three times and concentrates on what is needed as hard as possibles!"

"That doesn't sound so hard." Hazel finished her tea, grabbed a couple scones and got up. "Thanks a lot, Moxy, you were a great help." She started to reach down, but then stopped, unsure if that was a gesture house elves would tolerate. But Moxy only giggled and stretched herself as high as she could, and with a grin Hazel reached down again to pat her on the head.

"Good luck, Miss Hazel Potter!" Moxy cried as she left through the portrait door again.

With a direction in mind she set off, heading upstairs and avoiding curious looks. Slytherins probably stood out up here, she realized, and ducked into a bathroom to throw her Cloak on. Luckily it was late, and the halls mostly empty. She reached the seventh floor and crossed to the empty stretch of wall, but before she could get started a voice interrupted her.

"Hazel? Oh Hazel, come out come out," Fred called, striding up the hall and peering around.

"She's up here somewhere, bro," George said, peering at a manky old piece of parchment in his hands, "bit odd for a snake to be so far from her den."

Snarling to herself she threw the cloak aside and whipped out her wand. "How did you know I was up here?" she demanded, holding them both at wand-point.

"Wow, Ron was right, she does have an Invisibility Cloak!" Fred grinned, raising his hands. 

"Good thing our map can see through that sort of stuff!" George chimed in.

"Map? Of Hogwarts?" Ugh, this was stupid, they were delaying her. "Look, clear off, will you? A prefect might find us any moment and-"

"Mm, nope, all the prefects are down below, and the nearest teacher is old Dumbledore, but he's in his office," George interrupted, peering at the parchment.

"So what ya doing up here then? Looking for that gym?" Fred went on.

"I'll tell you what I'm doing if you show me that map," she shot back immediately.

They looked at each other, shrugged and held it out. "The secret of our success, little snake," Fred intoned, in as close to a solemn tone of voice as he was probably capable of.

Peering more closely at the parchment, Hazel saw it was indeed a map of Hogwarts. And more incredible, it depicted its inhabitants in real time! There was herself and the twins on the seventh floor, sure enough. But the Room of Requirement didn't seem to be marked down?

Looking over the rest of the map, she saw classrooms, common rooms, hallways and chambers and people. Students were mostly clustered in their dorms, teachers in their offices, except for-

"Ah, quick, under the Cloak!" she hissed, grabbing the Cloak off the floor and swinging it up. "McGonagall's coming!" Fred and George joined her without hesitation and they huddled to one side of a man-sized vase, and just in time, for Professor McGonagall had just stepped into the empty hall.

Fortunately she didn't seem to suspect anything, as she swept right on by without stopping. The three students didn't move a muscle until she was well out of sight, and safely on the lower floor according to the Map. "That was close…"

"She's already got the knack of it, bro, look," Fred said wonderingly as they slipped out of the Cloak.

"Oh yeah, I was there bro, I saw it," George replied, shaking his head. "You've got a real knack for trouble, Hazel, that's for sure."

"I bet I get it from my dad," she said absently, still staring at the Map that had saved them. "Well, here you go then," and she held it back out to them.

Fred took it and held it in his grasp, one eye on its contents. "So then, gonna show us what you was doing up here?"

"Oh right." She put her Cloak away. "The elves told me about this place, it's called the Room of Requirement. You have to walk before this piece of wall three times while concentrating on what you need. I didn't see it on the map, so maybe whoever made it didn't know about the Room?"

"Or it's Unplottable," George mused. "That means it can't be marked or found on maps."

"Right. I was about to try it when you guys came along." They nodded and stepped back, and she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and started walking back and forth. I need somewhere to work out,she thought to herself. Somewhere I can spar in secret, somewhere I can get in shape…

She was just turning around for a fourth pass when one of the twins whistled; opening her eyes, she saw a door, where no door had been before. "It worked!" She stepped forward and pushed it open, revealing a large, well-apportioned gymnasium with every kind of work-out gear one could ever want. "It's perfect!"

"Damn," one of the boys said as they followed her inside. The door shut behind them, and Hazel saw a key in the lock; she turned it, and there was an oddly final click.

"Well boys, we've got all night," and she shrugged out of her outer robes and went for the weights.

She noticed quickly that the room was kept cool, and something kept the air moving so that she didn't get too sweaty. Which was a neat trick, all things considered! She pumped iron until her arms were sore, then got up and looked for some water; no sooner did the thought cross her mind than a fountain by the wall caught her eye, and when she went to drink from it, she found it cold and refreshing.

"Alright guys, it's almost eight-thirty, we should take off," she called out to them, pulling herself off of some kind of leg curling machine or other. "Guys?" Splashing noises reached her ears, and she went in that direction. What she saw made her laugh; Fred and George had found a pool and were swimming and splashing each other. "Guys! I'm heading back to my dorm!"

"G'night!" they called back, not in any hurry to leave. She laughed again and walked back toward the door, though she spotted a vent like in her bathroom and stood under it so the sweat could be blasted off of her; she could shower in her dorm, she figured. Then she got dressed, ducked under the Cloak and slipped out the door. It was a long walk back down to the dungeons, though, and she was glad she had left before curfew.

Chapter 16: The Unforgivable CursesSummary:Hazel goes head first into the deep end, because she wants to know what's at the bottom. Will she get there any time soon? Spoiler: hell no.

Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter TextIn the morning, she went back to the seventh floor after breakfast, eager to see what else she could make out of the Room of Requirement. On the way up she debated things to ask of it. Somewhere to practice new spells? Somewhere quiet where she could just relax, and focus on her work? Or maybe… 

She remembered when Snape showed her the Killing Curse, she remembered Ginny being forced to use the Imperius Curse on her in her own common room. She remembered Neville crying his eyes out as he explained the Cruciatus Curse.

These were the tools of her enemies, of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. To use them on a human being was Unforgivable, was it not? On a human being. Snape used the Curses on a spider with no repercussions at all. Dark curiosity rose up in her chest, and her quick pace slowed to a crawl, and then a stop. Was she really thinking what she was thinking? Was she really about to ask for a safe space to practice the Unforgivable Curses?

In the next second she snarled at herself and kept going. Why shouldn't she? She was under a lot of stress and she had to blow off a little steam, what was wrong with that? It wasn't like she was going to kill or torture or take over people, was it? "Fuck off," she muttered at her own conscience, striding quickly around the last corner to the long stretch of wall.

I need a safe, secret place to practice the Dark Arts… to use the Unforgivable Curses without anyone knowing… somewhere I can be myself for once… she thought while pacing before the wall. She opened her eyes; there was the door, but it was different from before, iron-clad and of a darkened, heavy wood.

She pushed it open and stepped inside, and what greeted her was a space not unlike the Slytherin common room. Torches and chandeliers provided adequate light, but it still seemed dark and shadowy; a gray leather couch and an overstuffed bookcase full of grim looking books lay along part of one wall, and the other wall was full of cages, all of which had various scurrying creatures.

"I'm really doing this," Hazel muttered, approaching the shelves and lighting her wand. Instantly a thick volume on the Unforgivables caught her eye, and she pulled it out, crossing to sit on the couch and read it. She knew two of the incantations, she just wanted the wand movements…

Soon she had her answers, and stood up from the couch, wand in hand, a grim expression on her face. "Eenie, meanie, minie… moe!" She flicked her wand and a cage opened, forcing a bright blue Pixie into the air; she imagined Lockhart's smug smile at the reminder of that so-called lesson of his, and seething hatred roiled up from within. "Crucio!" she shouted, pointing her wand at the creature.

At first it didn't react at all, and she narrowed her eyes, imagining Lockhart groping at Hermione. Hate seethed at the thought, and she tried it again. "Crucio!"

It fell to it knees and squawked in pain, but still looked up at her, as if it knew she was the source of its discomfort. "You little pest! Crucio!" Finally it fell to the floor, and its mischievous chittering was replaced by agonized screeching. It felt like some dark venom was being drawn out of her to fuel the spell, but she imagined it was Lockhart being tortured down there, and the pixie screamed even more, thrashing helplessly from side to side. "Crucio! CRUCIO!"

Minutes later it passed out from the pain, and she lowered her wand. She was breathing hard, harder than she ever had from any Quidditch game or practice, and there was a dull ache in her chest. But beneath the weariness was an exhilaration that was stronger than any remorse or hesitation, and she knew she couldn't stop. "Wiggenweld," she muttered, looking around. No sooner did she say it than a green glint caught her eye, and a little stand on the other side of the couch that she hadn't seen before held a familiar green bottle. "Perfect! I love this room."

After downing it she felt better, and another flick of her wand sent the pixie back into its cage. Next she brought out a pair of black spiders, and when one of them tried to scuttle away she tried the Imperius Curse on the second: "Imperio!"

A curious sensation shot down her arm, a tingling warmth flowing from her mind, down the muscle and veins and bones through the thrumming wooden stick in her hand. The spider on the floor stopped for a second, then leaped through the air to attack the second one, viciously biting and tearing!

She cast the spell again, on the second spider. But that left the other spider free, and while the second one danced on its hind legs, the first one slumped to the floor and shivered. Hazel laughed aloud anyway, and flicked her wand again, making it leap and tumble about the room like circus performers.

Finally she made them both leap back into their cage one after another, and she set the cage itself down on the floor. Without the curse affecting them, the spiders merely huddled on the bottom of the cage, shivering with exertion. "Alright then," she murmured, imagining Voldemort himself this time. Voldemort, the man who had murdered her parents, tried to murder her, tried to lie to her and control her, who had used her friend against her…

More of that venom rose up in her chest, and she raised her wand, her face working into a snarl… The spiders seemed to sense what was coming, tried to get away…

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" she screamed; her chest burned, her wand shook so hard she almost dropped it; but a jet of green light and a swooshing erupted forth, engulfing the closest spider and knocking it over! Hazel stood there, clutching her chest and panting, thinking she might be sick… until the spider twitched and rolled upright again, momentarily stunned but undeniably still alive.

The pain in her chest told her she wouldn't be trying again, though. But just knowing she was capable of it was enough for her, she decided, and she could always come back again at need. She downed another helping of Wiggenweld, then put the cage back in its place and walked to the door. "Thanks, Room," she murmured, and the torches extinguished themselves as she opened the door and slipped back out.

Once she was in the castle itself, though, she started shaking slightly, aghast at what she had just done. What had she been thinking? She walked away from the Room of Requirement as fast as she dared, struggling to erect her Occlumency barriers before anyone saw her falling apart like this.

Naturally, who should she walk into but Snape? "P-Professor!" she gasped, staring up at him after bouncing off his torso.

He took in her pale face, her shaky hands still clutching her wand. "What have you been doing, Potter?" he asked quietly, giving her a level glance.

"Um…" No way could she admit to practicing the Darkest of Dark Arts, not even to the man who had shown the worst of them to her. "I was… exploring the c-castle…?"

"Exploring the castle," he repeated, still in that quiet, level voice. "And what did you find?"

"A b-boggart," she improvised. "Hiding in th- in that vase up there!" and she pointed at the man-sized vase at the end of the hall. "Mine's a Dementor, you know, and…"

"Of course." She could tell he didn't believe her, but he wasn't about to make a big deal of it where anyone could walk in on them. "Go see Madam Pomfrey for some chocolate then, and when you wish to explain what you were really doing, you will find me in my office."

"Er. Yes sir." He nodded and swept onward, and after a moment she went down to the hospital wing. But she ran into Professor Lupin a few floors down. "Oh, hi, Professor…"

"Hazel." He looked her up and down, and concern filled his eyes. "Are you alright, my dear? You look exhausted."

"I… no, Professor, I…" She was shaking again, and it felt like tears were about to burst down her face. "Er, I…"

Immediately he steered her through the nearest door, which turned out to be his office. A large tank held some sort of aquatic creature, a sickly green thing which made faces at them and flexed its long, spindly fingers.

"That's a grindylow," he explained, seeing where her attention lay, "we'll be covering them soon." He conjured a chair for her to sit on and handed her a piece of chocolate. "I warned you about practicing the Patronus Charm, Hazel."

"It wasn't that, sir," she replied quickly, shaking her head and sticking the candy in her mouth so she wouldn't have to talk for a few moments. No way would Lupin understand either! But she had to tell someone or she would explode!

"Sir, have you ever been… curious? About… well, about…"

"Hold it right there," he interjected mildly. "If you're about to confess something unpleasant, Hazel, I should remind you that I am your teacher first, and a family friend second."

"...right…" She shook her head and looked away, still struggling to bring her Occlumency back. "I need to talk to someone though, Professor, or…"

"Lend me your owl and I'll send a note to Sirius for you, how's that sound?" Lupin suggested. "In the meantime you should get cleaned up for lunch, and if you're still feeling down I doubt anyone would think less of you for skipping your study group today."

Sirius. Why hadn't she thought of that before? He wouldn't be happy, but she could be honest with him about everything. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I bet you guys got into all sorts of bullshit when you were in school, eh?" she asked with a watery chuckle.

"Hardly a weekend went by when James and Sirius weren't in detention, that's for sure," he replied with a tired laugh of his own, apparently choosing to ignore her vulgarity. "Really now, go get cleaned up and get some food, and I'll arrange for Sirius to come to the castle so you guys can have a chat. Alright?"

"Alright." Just saying this much was enough to ease her mind, at least enough to where she could properly reassert her Occlumency barriers. She went and got cleaned up, then, and went back up the stairs for lunch and the study group/dueling club afterward.

Today it was Snape's turn to supervise, and he showed them a couple of new spells, the Reductor Curse and the Smokescreen Spell. "Both spells are useful for running away, which is always an option in real life," he explained afterward. "If you feel you are outmatched, there is no shame in living to see another day."

Hazel and her close friends were the first to accomplish the new spells, of course, blasting dummies into rubble and creating so much smoke the entire Hall was soon quite obscured. It was quite enjoyable, and when Snape called for a halt an hour or so early to clean up for dinner, everyone cheered. Except Hazel, when Snape singled her out. "A word alone, Potter," he called, dismissing the others with an impatient wave.

"Sir?" she replied as she approached him, a little nervous in spite of her Occlumency.

"In my classroom." He swept out of the Great Hall and she trailed along in his wake, wondering what was about to happen to her. He didn't say a word until they were in his class, where he swept the tables aside to make room in the center. "I wish you to explain what you were truly doing on the seventh floor today, Potter. Do not lie to me again."

"Yes sir." She swallowed thickly, forcing the words out like bile. "I was- I was trying the Unforgivable Curses for myself, sir."

His black eyes glittered at her confession, but she couldn't tell what he thought. "On what did you choose to practice such spells?"

"I, uh… I found some spiders, sir." Not the whole truth, but not a total lie either. "They were easily tortured and manipulated, sir, but I couldn't properly cast the Killing Curse on them..."

"And where did a young girl like you learn the necessary hatred and negativity?"

Her voice dropped to a hesitant whisper. "The… the Dursleys, sir, they were worse to me when I was younger… and that asshole Lockhart, I can't forget the way he was pawing at Hermione that night… I imagined it was him I was using them on, and it was so easy…" The part about the Dursleys was a lie, but she knew it was believable enough…

"The point of my showing you that spell was so you would not attempt to learn of it on your own, Potter," he said quietly. "By all rights I should have you in detention for the rest of the year. But I won't, because you were not caught in the act. And good snakes do not get caught."

She couldn't believe her ears. He was really just letting her off? "I- I don't know what to say, sir…"

"Say you will focus on your studies, and on bringing the Quidditch and House Cups home to my office again this year," he insisted gently. "Now, be off with you. Be more careful in the future, Potter, I will not be so lenient again."

"O- Of course, sir, thank you." She bowed and turned to leave, her thoughts jumbling around despite her Occlumency. She could still remember the way it felt to cast the Imperius Curse, the curious flowing sensation of her willpower extending outward to assert and override that of the spiders. Or the sensation of poison being drawn out of her to fuel the Torture Curse, the way that pixie screamed and writhed, the way Lockhart screamed in her mind's eye…

She wanted to go back there, to do it again and again, to revel in how it felt to embrace the darkness inside herself! And why shouldn't she? It was the Room of Requirement, no one would find her there if she didn't wish to be found! Why shouldn't she feel powerful and in control, for once, rather than caught up in a maelstrom of friends and schoolwork and pointless spells!

Horror washed over her, along with the realization that these thoughts were capable of piercing her Occlumency barriers as easily as a needle pierces cloth. Already she felt another breakdown coming on, and did her best to shut it down, ruthlessly forcing the barriers back up. Had she learned nothing over the past year or so? "Goddammit," she swore, falling limp against the wall to catch her breath. "Alright, Hazel Jade Potter, this is no time to fall apart. Go eat dinner, then take an early night. You've earned that much…"

One foot before the next she went to the Great Hall, where she ate without noticing or tasting anything, where she ignored everyone in favor of focusing inward on the vaults of her mind, shoring them up against the temptation of the Unforgivable Curses. Only when she was certain it was somewhat secure did she get up and leave without a word to anyone, walking back to her dorm as fast as she could.

For the first time since she started at Hogwarts, Hazel was sorely tempted to skip her nightly routine. The urge to simply jump in bed and dwell on the day's mistakes was nearly overpowering, but she reminded herself what might happen if she skipped even a single step: Weakness. And she couldn't be weak. Not here.

Just for considering it she forced herself to extend her routine, working out twice as hard, taking an extra long shower, examining every minute detail the mirror could bring out of her naked body. She was taller than ever; the lightning scar extended up into her hairline and down through her left eye socket; her hair was down below her shoulders, tangled and unruly. And of course she made extra certain her mental walls were up before falling asleep; she had a feeling her nightmares would be particularly potent otherwise.

Notes:I've been very eager for you all to read this chapter, because I think it could make or break the entire saga. Tell me what you think, in brutal and uncensored honesty as always!

Chapter 17: Reaping the WhirlwindSummary:In which Hazel learns what really happens when snakes fuck up. Will she learn her lesson?

Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter TextIt took less than a day for Hazel to deeply regret ever so much as considering the Unforgivable Curses. When a professor was lecturing them about their subject, she imagined whipping out her wand, casting the Imperius Curse and cutting the lesson short, so she could go and eat and get back to practicing real skills. When she caught Crabbe and Goyle staring at her yet again and muttering and pointing, she imagined the way they'd scream if she used the Cruciatus Curse on them.

And every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes of green light, imagined her enemies keeling over, deader than dead. Quirrell, Lockhart, Lucius Malfoy, Uncle Vernon…

Occlumency was fruitless against these dark thoughts, no matter how she concentrated on the dull brick and metal of her imagined mental fortress. In short, she was on edge even more than before as the day wore on, snapping at people like she hadn't done since she first got serious about fortifying her mind. Only the thought of how Snape would react kept her from truly lashing out; she didn't want another detention, after all.

"What the hell's the matter with you, Hazel?" Draco demanded at lunch that day. "You didn't need to speak to Trelawney that way, she didn't do anything out of the ordinary!"

But Hazel, who had actually shot to her feet and loudly demanded to know how Trelawney would feel if someone kept predicting her death in more and more gruesome ways, disagreed. "Aren't you tired of her drama yet, Draco?" she replied, trying not to replay the image in her mind of their professor falling from her own tower, blasted through a window by murderous green light…

"If you're tired of it, then drop her class!" he replied sharply, which earned him a murderous glare and a huff. Hazel tried to deny the vision of her best friend screaming on the floor, with middling results at best.

At the first Quidditch practice that week she grabbed a Beater's bat before Flint could say a word and took off after the heavy iron Bludger, giving Millicent a brief nod before proceeding to smack it around. Beating was hard and violent work, which was exactly what she needed right then; she tried not to laugh as the Chasers and Seeker tried evading her efforts, but felt better about it when she saw Millicent laughing openly.

Professor Babbling asked her to stay after class, and gave her a wooden chip inscribed with an intricate symbol. "You have been quite unstable recently, Miss Potter," she said while handing it to her. "Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape asked me to intervene; keep this rune in your pocket, and beneath your pillow at night, and it will keep your inner demons in check."

"Thank you, Professor." She took the chip and pocketed it, and felt better almost immediately. "Wow, it really works!"

The older woman smiled. "Of course it does. You are among my most promising students, Miss Potter, and I would not wish to see you expelled."

Hazel left the room wondering exactly how much Snape had told them, and who exactly "they" were whom he had told. The wooden chip really did help; she still had Dark thoughts, but they didn't pierce her self control like before, and she was able to focus on what mattered.

She received a partial answer in Transfiguration that week, when Professor McGonagall held her back after class. "I hear you've been meddling with the Dark Arts, Potter," she said, in a very severe tone of voice.

"Er." There was no point denying it, Hazel realized. "Yes ma'am, I- I was."

"If you'd been in my House you would have been expelled on the spot," McGonagall went on, her lips going thin as she spoke. "I don't know why Professor Snape has decided to go easy on you this time, but if we hear of more Dark experiments on your part, I will appeal directly to the Headmaster. Hogwarts does not condone the use of the Unforgivable Curses, am I understood?"

"Yes ma'am. It won't happen again." Mentally she crossed her fingers, and vowed instead that she wouldn't be caught.

McGonagall's expression did not ease up, and for a moment Hazel was certain she was going to be punished anyway. Then she shook her head. "See that it doesn't, Potter. I am deadly serious about this. Now, off with you."

"Yes ma'am." Hazel hurried out of the classroom, hoping that would be the last awkward encounter over her misstep.

It wasn't. Of course it wasn't.

For the first time that she was aware of, her fellow students looked at her with fear in their eyes, and there was all sorts of fresh whispering behind her back. Hazel Potter, the Heir of Slytherin, the next Dark Lord in the making . This was her true punishment, she realized; Snape had done this on purpose, let it slip what she'd done and gotten the professors on her case. And of course the students followed suit!

"It's not true, is it?" Ron demanded frantically, dashing over at lunch that day. "You weren't caught practicing the Imperius Curse on some firsties, were you, Hazel?"

"Er. No, Ron, I wasn't caught practicing any curses on anyone, or anything," she corrected gently.

"But everyone's saying how you-!"

"How I what? Don't be stupid, Ron." She shot to her feet and glared him down. "After what Ginny was forced to do, after what Neville told me about his parents? How dare you!"

"Wh- Neville's parents?" and Ron only looked confused.

"Fuck," she swore under her breath. "No, I'm not repeating that, go ask him yourself." Looking more confused than ever, the redheaded Gryffindor retreated back to his own table. "And do it privately!" she shouted after him before sitting down again.

"Neville told you about that?" Draco asked in a low voice, leaning in.

"Yes?" She gave him a confused look. "Neville and I are friends, Draco, friends tell each other about that sort of thing. Well, normal friends do, anyway."

A hurt expression crossed his face. "If you're going to use the Dark Arts, at least own up to it," he said quietly, turning back to his own meal. "Slytherin already has that kind of reputation, after all."

After Defense that week, Lupin handed her a note. "Sirius will be in Hogsmeade this Sunday, if you can make time," he explained. "You'll need a chaperone to make an unscheduled visit to the village."

"Can you do it?" she asked, opening the note. It was from Sirius, sure enough, demanding to know what she was thinking and letting her know she'd best be at the Hog's Head Inn at eleven o'clock on Sunday morning.

"Sadly no, you'll have to find a prefect or another Professor." He checked his watch. "Come back after dinner tonight and we'll see if you can still wield the Patronus Charm."

"Why wouldn't I-? Ugh, okay." She went on to her next class, enduring the stares and jeers. At least the other snakes had her back, in public anyway.

Eventually she ran into Neville, and tried not to cringe. "Er, hi Neville."

He only stared at her for a long moment, his usual boyish expression replaced by something darker. "Did you really use the Cruciatus Curse?" he asked quietly, stepping in so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Y-Yeah, I did."

"How did it feel?"

That wasn't what she had expected, but she couldn't lie to him either. "It felt like… like some kind of venom was being drawn out of me," she explained, struggling over the words even as she spoke them. "I used it on a pixie, and… and when I imagined it was Lockhart it seemed to be stronger."

"Can you show me?" he went on, looking a little desperate now. "Please? I, I've never seen it up close, I don't remember the attack very well."

This was very much unlike Neville, but whatever argument she had to dissuade him died on her tongue at the look in his eyes. "If we have time, I don't see why not. Saturday night at 9:30, meet me by the landscape painting on the sixth floor."

"Okay, I'll be there." He turned and walked off, and staring after him, she felt like there was something different in his gait, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Even her favorite older student had sharp words for her in the Slytherin common room. "Potter, what were you thinking?" Gemma Farley demanded that evening, as Hazel was just getting back from Quidditch practice. "Did anything we said in your first year sink in?"

"Huh?" Hazel was tired, and caught off guard, and she had an angry young woman literally in her face; her brain short-circuited and her ability to come up with lies or misdirections shut off. "Uh, you said that… snakes stick together? And-"

"Yes, snakes stick together outside this common room!But how do you think the rest of us feel?" She swept her hand out to gesture at the entire chamber, and the green-clad students within. "You've fueled those nasty rumors again, Potter!"

"They're just rumors!" she argued back, putting some space between herself and the Head Girl. "They'll die off in two weeks as soon as the next shiny thing comes along, don't worry about it."

"That's not the point, Potter, and you know it," Gemma growled. "I've been trying to rebuild our House's reputation ever since I got Sorted, and-"

"So have I, Gemma! We can't let one unproven incident set us back!" She wasn't sure why she was lumping herself in with Gemma like this, but it was too late to take the words back now.

"Hazel's right," Millicent insisted, still slightly out of breath. "After everything we've done together, too. And you can bet your ass she wasn't the first or only one to fuck around with the Unforgivables at Hogwarts."

"Language, Bulstrode." Gemma looked conflicted for a second, then shrugged. "Well, whatever, if Snape didn't see fit to expel you then it's over my head. But we've all got our eyes on you, Potter," and she turned away.

"Do all Heads get stuck up like that, or is it a prefect thing?" Millicent muttered, rolling her eyes.

"She was nice enough before this year," Hazel muttered back. "Must be a Head thing." She was about to sit down and do homework when she remembered she was supposed to meet with Professor Lupin! "Oh no, I have to go! Millicent, watch my stuff!" With no wish to lug her books all over the place she just left her bag on the table and darted off for the Defense classroom.

"Professor!" she called, pushing the door open without knocking. "Professor, I'm sorry! Quidditch practice…"

"Of course, I should have been more mindful of your schedule," he replied easily, flicking his wand to brush the desks out of the way. "So. You've made exceptional progress on the Patronus Charm, Hazel, but this recent brush with the Dark Arts has us all somewhat concerned."

"What, can Dark wizards not cast the Patronus Charm?"

"Typically, a truly Dark witch or wizard has no need to cast it, since a Dementor would recognize them as its natural ally in evil; stories say that if such a one were to try casting the Charm, maggots would erupt from their wand to devour them."

"Like the tale of Raczidian," Hazel said to herself. "So what? You wanted to check and make sure I haven't gone dark?" She scoffed slightly. "I'm still good, I'm sure. Gringotts said I have a gray core, and Professor Snape said that means I can be light and dark."

"I think what he actually said was that a gray core means you aren't especially inclined one way or another. Which, yes, would mean you could use Dark Arts and the Patronus Charm in equal measure." He gestured for her to take the center. "So, if you would."

"It's the same thing, isn't it?" But she took her stance and faced the empty classroom, looking for a happy memory. Immediately the savage exhilaration that came from using the Unforgivable Curses came to mind, making her heart race all over again. Mentally she shrugged and let it carry her along.

"Expecto Patronum!" she shouted. Like last time the great silver cloud erupted from her wand, and for a second she thought she saw a shape inside it, but the pain in her chest cut her off before she could see it any clearer, and the fog wicked away. "Ouch… see? I can still do it!"

"Apparently you can." Lupin seemed amused more than anything, and as usual he offered her a bar of chocolate. "You're making excellent progress, Hazel, usually it takes months to even get this far. What was your chosen memory this time?"

"Er." She looked away, pretending to be busy with munching on her chocolate. What would he say if she told him her memory was of using the Cruciatus Curse on a helpless pixie?

But he was still waiting patiently, so she sighed and looked down. "It's a private memory between Luna and I," she said softly, avoiding his gaze. She felt bad for lying to him, but he wasn't Snape, he couldn't read her mind.

When she looked up again, she saw him look away quickly. "It wasn't at school, sir, I promise," she added dryly, rolling her eyes.

"Er, yes, well." He cleared his throat and stood up. "Clearly you haven't lost your touch, I see I was worrying over nothing. You should go, then, I'm sure you have homework piled to the ceiling."

"I usually do these days, sir. Good night." She put her wand away and left the room, hurrying back to the dungeon to tackle that pile of homework.

Notes:And the hits keep coming! They don't stop coming!

Chapter 18: The Spell that Crippled His ParentsSummary:Hazel isn't the only one curious about the Unforgivable Curses, it turns out.

Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter TextThe rest of her classes that week weren't much better. Professor Burbage gave them a special lecture on Azkaban and its Dementor guards, despite what she had said about them the first day. "It always hurts us as Professors when we hear of a former student who had spent even a little time in that dreadful place," she sighed, looking very forlorn indeed. Not once did she look Hazel's way, which was as good a callout as any other, for normally she was happy to laugh and call on her.

Hazel got the message, and kept silent for the duration of the class, taking careful notes as always.

Care of Magical Creatures was a bit better, since Charlie and Hagrid kept their harsh words for after class. "I suppose you figured since it was just spiders it was okay, eh, Hazel?" the stocky redhead began, looking up at her and squinting slightly.

"Conjured spiders," she corrected, willing herself to meet his gaze and surprised that she was taller than him. "They weren't real ones, I wouldn't do that to real creatures."

"Tsh, you dunno that spell yet," he retorted, flicking a dismissive gesture with his fingers.

"I do too! Watch!" She whipped out her wand and pointed at the ground. "Arachnosortia!" A clapping noise and a puff of smoke heralded the arrival of a large black spider, which seemed quite caught off guard at its own appearance. "See!"

"Well, you still shouldn't be messing with Dark Magic, Hazel, it'll get to you," he pressed on, vanishing the spider again with a wave of his own wand. "Bet you felt it already? Longing to use 'em, to go hide and practice 'em lots more?"

"H-How would you know?" she countered, unwilling to admit how accurate he was.

"Arr, leave 'er alone, Charlie, she's 'eard it all a'ready," Hagrid interjected. "Snape didn' see fit ter expel 'er, we ain't got no business secon'-guessin' Heads o' Houses."

Charlie opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Guess we can't expect anything else from Slytherin," he said with a shrug. "You better git on, Hazel."

Stung by his parting remark, she turned on her heel and stormed off, fuming at the indignity. She ignored the small voice that said he was probably right, that an entire House didn't get an unpleasant reputation for nothing.

No, this was all Snape's fault, she told herself sternly. If he hadn't opened his mouth about what she'd told him, none of this would have happened! It was easier to be mad at someone else than herself, after all, even if the someone else was someone she respected. And how did Charlie know what it was like to use those Curses anyway?

"Everyone is hypocrites," she decided, and that made her feel better. Everyone was hypocrites!

At dinner that evening she saw Gemma again, and remembered she still had to get a chaperone for her visit to Hogsmeade. If it wasn't for all this shit she was sure the Head Girl would be happy to help her out, because who didn't want to go to Hogsmeade for a day? She didn't know any of the prefects well enough to ask something like that of them, either.

And which of the Professors would help her, either? She knew Snape wouldn't, not when he heard why she wanted to go there. And Lupin was out too, even though it had been his idea all along! Maybe Flitwick? He hadn't said anything about her missteps, had continued treating her fairly and with his usual grace in class.

Ugh. Gemma was right there, and snakes stuck together! She should at least try asking. With that in mind she stood and went up the table. "Hey, Gemma?"

"Mm?"

"Er, I need a favor."

Gemma swallowed her mouthful of food and turned towards Hazel. "What's up?"

"So, Professor Lupin arranged a meeting with my godfather in Hogsmeade this weekend, and he says I need an escort since it isn't an official visit, so could you-?"

She broke off when she felt someone standing behind her, which was confirmed when Gemma's eyes went wide as she looked up. "What business do you have with your godfather in Hogsmeade, Potter?" Snape asked, in a low and silky voice.

Slowly she turned to face him. "I, um… Professor Lupin sent him an owl about what happened, sir."

"Parents or guardians are welcome in the castle at any time if they wish to discuss the behavior of their charges, of course," he went on. "Why would he wish to meet you outside the castle?"

The look in his eyes was one he usually reserved for troublesome Gryffindors, and she wanted to shrink back from it. Dimly she was aware of other students pointing and laughing at the scene, and the dark corner of her mind wanted to curse them all into oblivion. "Possibly so he wouldn't have to meet you,sir," she said, more sharply than she'd meant.

His eyes glittered and he gave her a nasty smile. "I shall escort you to Hogsmeade on Sunday, Potter. Where and when are you to meet with him?"

"Eleven AM, at the Hog's Head Inn," she mumbled, face going red from shame and embarrassment. This was going to be awful…

"Then you shall await me by the front doors at ten-thirty. Now return to your seat, I need a word with Miss Farley."

She mumbled something that was neither here nor there and retreated back to the third-year section, where her friends leaned in demanding to know what that was all about. "Had to get a chaperone to go to Hogsmeade," she muttered, too far off her game to come up with any convincing lies. "My godfather wants to see me."

"This is what happens when you stand out in a bad way, Hazel," Draco replied, and she couldn't tell if he was being smug or not. Stars above, would this week never end?

She'd been looking forward to visiting Hogsmeade and seeing her godfather, but now, knowing Snape would be there too, all the fun went out of it. The thought that Snape was as likely to defend her as anything else did little to assuage her feelings on the matter; she didn't want to be there while the two of them argued and bickered, after all.

So naturally the remainder of the week sped by, and on Friday she finally went to see Madam Pomfrey for something to soothe her head. "Madam Pomfrey?" she called, stepping into the hospital wing.

The office opened and the matron's head appeared. "Potter? What is it, what's gone wrong now?" she asked, bustling out into view.

Her reaction reminded Hazel that whenever she appeared here, nothing good was happening. "N-Nothing, ma'am, I just…" She floundered for a second, trying to think of a way to phrase what she wanted without sounding weak.

"Did someone curse you?" Madam Pomfrey took her wrist, checked her forehead. "Did you curse someone? Whatever it is, I can't fix it if you don't-"

"It's not like that!" she snapped, pulling her hand free. "I need something for a headache, okay, that's all!"

"Stop fussing, Potter, and sit still," Madam Pomfrey insisted, drawing her wand and glaring at her. "Is it your scar?"

Hazel took a moment to breathe and get herself under control again. "No ma'am, it's j-just a headache. All my classes and things, you know."

"Overwork, then." The matron pursed her lips and frowned. "The only real cure is to drop some classes and cut back on your activities, you're running yourself ragged with everything you're doing. Ideally you'd drop everything for a week or so and just rest, but no one ever does that around here."

"I can't stop, ma'am, sorry," she offered, shrugging. "Isn't there anything you could give me?"

"Wait here." She bustled back into her office, returning moments later with a tiny vial of purple potion. "Drink this. It will give you temporary relief from your headache."

"Thank you, ma'am." She tossed it back without a second thought; it tasted exceptionally foul and stung on the way down, making her cough. "Ugh… hey, it's already working!"

"It also loses effectiveness the more of it you take, and if you take too much your headaches will get worse." Madam Pomfrey took the vial back and put it away in her robes. "Now, if that's everything?"

"Yes ma'am, thank you again." She bowed and turned to leave, humming happily for the pleasure of being pain-free. She was able to put a sizable dent in her weekly mountain of homework, and even helped Draco with their Quidditch homework.

Saturday practice went by well enough, hindered only by her headache returning. After dinner that evening she worked on her homework until it was time to meet with Neville, and took her things back to her dorm, where she got her Cloak and slipped away through the common room and down the halls.

With the Cloak it was easy to avoid teachers, prefects, Peeves and Filch alike, and she arrived at the vase with a few minutes to spare. Neville was already there, though. "Hey, under here," she muttered, poking him in the side. He didn't jump like Ron had, and ducked underneath quickly enough. "This way."

"Nice cloak," was all he said as he kept behind her. They got to the Room of Requirement, and she paced back and forth to summon the dark hall for practicing the Unforgivable Curses, with an extra thought to make sure they wouldn't be sensed or found.

"Okay, Neville, before I show you the Cruciatus Curse, I need to explain a few things," she said as soon as the door shut and locked behind them. "The Dark Arts are addictive, okay? I've been a total mess ever since I first tried them, even with this little chip Professor Babbling made for me." She showed him the piece of wood with the rune burned into it.

Neville swallowed thickly, eyes on the rune. "I understand, I think," he said softly. "I can't stop thinking about them either. Please, Hazel, just once?"

"Just once." She set the chip on the end table by the couch, then flicked her wand and brought another pixie out, and like before she imagined Lockhart and his stupid smile. "Crucio!"

Like before, the air was filled with its pained screaming, and neither of them could look away as it writhed and beat its fists on the floor, no doubt begging for release in whatever chittering language it spoke. Part of her relished the sound, wanted to keep going until the little blue thing broke, and then turn it on larger creatures; it was the same part which craved the sensation of venom being drawn out of her from within, a sensation she realized could become addictive if she wasn't careful!

Neville's nerve broke before she could follow this train of thought too far, though. "Enough!" he shouted, and Hazel lifted her wand at once. "Enough… please, enough…" He was very pale and seemed about to faint; she quickly guided him to the couch and helped him sit down, doing her best to ignore the snarling in her mind. "Enough…"

"Neville, are you alright?" she asked, sitting next to him and putting a hand on his back. "Chocolate, we need- ah." A single bar of Honeydukes chocolate had appeared when her back was turned; pointedly quashing the need to question it she took the bar, broke off a piece and gave it to Neville. "Neville, here, eat this."

"Thanks." He shoved it into his mouth without looking, and after a second he heaved a sigh. "That explains a lot," he muttered. "That was the spell that crippled my parents…"

"I guess." What was she supposed to say right then? She felt weird, and reached out for the runic chip again. "So, are you satisfied?"

"Y-Yeah… I kinda wanna try it for myself, though."

"Neville, no!" She grabbed his shoulder again and shook him. "Remember what I said? It'll get inside your thoughts and eat away at your sanity! You really shouldn't!"

"But it was okay for you, though?"

"No, it damn well wasn't okay! Besides, I'm in Slytherin, we're supposed to be creepy weirdos obsessed with the Dark Arts," she insisted. "But you're a Gryffindor! You're above all that bullshit! Remember the boggart? You didn't need the Cruciatus Curse then, and you don't need it now."

He was silent for a long moment, then he sighed. "Yeah, you're right." He stood up and smiled at her. "Thanks for showing me that. We should get going."

The pixie had crawled back into its cage at some point, and she flicked her wand to close and lock it. Then she went for the door, but paused with her hand on the knob. "Is anyone outside?" she asked, and something in the air changed. It took a second for her to realize they could now hear the hallway beyond. "Sounds empty. Let's go, Neville, under the cloak."

He ducked underneath and they slipped out into the hallway, checking both ways before heading off. "It's getting late, so I should take you right to your common room," she said in a whisper, and he nodded and led the way.

The Gryffindor common room, apparently, was in one of the towers, though as they drew closer they came to a halt at the sound of voices. "No one's seen him since a little after nine, Professor," Percy's pompous voice was saying. "Ron mentioned he seemed out of sorts, like he was hiding something."

"It is not yet curfew, but he's cutting it quite close," replied the voice of Professor McGonagall. "Go on with your patrol, Mr Weasley, I suspect he might have just gotten lost somewhere."

"Now's your chance," she murmured, and with a nod he slipped out of the Cloak and went around the corner. She lingered for a moment, listened to Percy and the Professor fuss over him while he made excuses about some bathroom on the seventh floor. Once she was sure he'd be fine she slipped away to the dungeons, eyes and ears on alert for any sign of patrolling authority figures.

Fortunately she didn't see anyone, until she was nearly at the secret door. It opened as she was about to speak the password, and Gemma Farley appeared, no doubt about to prowl the halls for a few hours. Thanking her luck, Hazel slipped in behind her before the door could disappear again, and tiptoed to her dorm where she could throw the Cloak off at last, after making sure the others were asleep.

Quietly she went through the steps of her routine, and climbed into bed with a sour feeling in her stomach. Next day was going to be a doozy, she feared, and that fear conspired with the sourness in her guts to keep her awake into the night.

Notes:Merry Christmas everyone! The next chapter is gonna be a doozy!

Chapter 19: Snape vs BlackSummary:Hazel is dragged to the Hog's Head Inn for a meeting with her godfather and her Head of House. No one involved can stand one another, not even the weird-smelling bartender.

Notes:Great news! The story is complete, and I'll be posting on Tuesdays and Fridays from now on! As long as my proofreaders can keep up, at least.

Chapter TextDespite not sleeping well, Hazel woke up before anyone else, and dragged her feet getting ready for the day before heading out to do the last of her homework over breakfast. Naturally she didn't have enough left to stretch it out, and with an hour before she had to meet Snape at the door she went over to the Gryffindor table. "I won't be around for the first bit of our club today, guys," she told Ron, Hermione and the twins. "This stupid meeting with Sirius!"

"It's fine, Hazel," Hermione said with a smile. "Family's important, right? We'll be here."

"Good luck, mate," was all Ron said, and the twins just nodded. She nodded back and turned away, unsure where she was going but unable to sit still.

At least until she nearly ran into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry- Professor Dumbledore?"

"Hazel, my apologies," the Headmaster replied gravely. "Are you well?" He surveyed her over the edge of his glasses, his piercing blue eyes seeming to see everything.

"Er, not really, sir, I'm meeting my godfather in an hour or so, with Professor Snape."

"I see." He smiled kindly and put a hand on her shoulder. "I can only entreat you not to take anything personally today. Old enmities run deep, especially for the likes of Professor Snape and Lord Black."

"Yes sir, thank you sir." It occurred to her that the Headmaster had yet to say anything about her little dalliance with the Dark Arts, and though she wanted to pretend it never happened, she was also curious about his outlook. "Sir, um. I'm sure you know why he wanted to see me."

"Indeed." His expression turned grave again. "There is little in this castle I am not aware of, Hazel. It is entirely natural to be curious about the Dark Arts, especially for Mr Longbottom and yourself, whose lives have been so marred by some of the darkest curses."

How did he-? No, Neville must have done something on his own, at some point. "What's Neville done, sir? He told me about his parents."

"I believe he was trying to access the Restricted Section of the Library, but since he could not acquire a signed note, he was unsuccessful in this ambition," Dumbledore explained. "As for your own missteps, I shall abide by Severus' counsel in the matter."

That twinkle was back in his eye, and she grinned back. "Yes sir, it is, sir. But you needn't worry, I don't plan on meddling with the Dark Arts again." Not any time soon, she silently amended. "If you'll excuse me, sir."

"Of course." He nodded and kept going, and she went on her own way.

She found herself in her dorm again, grabbed a scarf and checked her appearance. All was well, except for her hair, which as usual refused all attempts to tame it. She threw her hands up at it and flounced back out, heading back to the door to meet with Professor Snape.

"You are early," he noted, glancing up to ward off Filch with a glare and a sneer.

"Yes sir, let's just get it over with," she replied tersely, stepping around him to get at the doors while wrapping the scarf around her neck.

"A fine plan." He pushed them open and led the way to Hogsmeade, twirling his wand to cast Warming Charms over himself and Hazel as they went. "Your previous visit did not bring you to the Hog's Head, I presume?"

"No sir, before Professor Lupin mentioned it I didn't even know the place existed."

"I am not surprised." Despite the charm he had just cast, he turned up the collar of his cloak. "Mind your manners around the barman, he has a very long memory for troublemakers and does not suffer fools lightly. Don't judge by appearances, either."

Curious as to what he meant by that, she followed him down the path to the village, passing most of the familiar shops and turning down a side street. A block or two down they finally saw a drab and somewhat dingy building, but Hazel remembered the exterior of the Leaky Cauldron and told herself it would be fine on the inside. Not even the blood-spattered sign out front showing a severed boar's head could put her off her confidence; some things were just a bit dodgy, after all, weren't they?

But when she stepped inside and saw the interior, she realized that, dodgy or not, there really ought to be a fucking limit.

The Hog's Head was utterly revolting, from the smell of goats to the dirty windows that hardly allowed any light in, to what she imagined was centuries of filth and sawdust caked upon the ground. No, the floor, she corrected herself, pushing at the mess with the toe of her boot and feeling the scrape of stone.

Apart from the barman and themselves there was hardly anyone about, either; a pair of deeply hooded warlocks muttering among themselves, and an astoundingly ugly old woman at the bar whom Hazel might have mistaken for a hag. The barman himself was tall and thin, and what little she could see of his face through the matted curtains of gray hair and beard seemed grumpy and sullen, but he had bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce through to her very soul when she made eye contact with him.

After a second his gaze flicked up to her scar, then across to the Professor. "Severus," he grumbled, putting his glass and rag aside. Both were filthy, she noticed.

"Aberforth," he replied, in that silky tone of voice Hazel had learned to associate with extreme danger. "A butterbeer and two firewhiskeys, please."

Aberforth grunted and reached beneath the bar, producing two bottles and two very dirty shot glasses. He slammed the butterbeer in front of her, and got ready to pour out the other two drinks, but Snape held out a hand. "No need, I'll just take the bottle, if you would."

"Ten sickles," the barman grunted, pushing the lot toward Snape, "and don't come crying for a room when you can't walk straight."

Snape snorted, and placed a gleaming golden galleon down. "Keep the change," he murmured, taking the bottle and glass and retreating to one of the many empty tables. The barman was busy putting the coin away in an ancient till and counting out the change; Snape took the opportunity and drew his wand, quietly muttering "Scourgify," at the table and glasses.

With a cleaner surface to sit on, Hazel took her seat and sipped her butterbeer, and moments later the door swung open again. She turned to see who it was, and stifled a groan; it was Sirius. He saw them and went right for their table, nodding to Aberforth as he went. "Hazel," he said shortly, sitting down. "And Snivellus, too?"

"Black," Snape sneered, eyes glittering as he poured two shots of firewhiskey and pushed one toward Sirius. "You haven't changed, I see."

Sirius made a show of waving his wand over the glass before taking it; Hazel assumed he was testing for poison. "You have," he countered, throwing it all back at once. "You've gotten old and useless, haven't you? I bet you're the reason Hazel's messing with Unforgivable Curses, eh? Eh?"

"Knock it off, Sirius, you promised," Hazel said sharply. "Let's get this over with, alright? I don't think the bartender likes me."

"He doesn't like anyone," Sirius said dismissively. "And you! After what you did before I'm surprised you weren't banned for life!"

"I, unlike you, am capable of atonement," Snape replied, slowly and dismissively. "Now. We are here to discuss Miss Potter's infractions, are we not?"

"Infraction, my eye," Sirius muttered. "Hazel, what were you thinking? Who showed them to you?"

"Voldemort did," she replied fiercely, trying not to grin too widely when both men winced at the name. "Two of them, anyway, and Neville told me about the last one."

Sirius was at a loss for words, and Snape stepped in. "It is natural to want to know more about the curses that so affected you, is it not? You were right about one thing though, Black: she did come to me first, after the Dementors forced her to relive the night Lily and James were murdered."

"Dementors?!" Sirius almost yelled, and the few other patrons gave them sour looks. "Dumbledore swore he'd never let any of those near Hogwarts! When did-?!"

"When Lockhart was arrested," Hazel explained quickly, after gulping more of her drink. "I guess the Ministry and the board of governors overruled him, and he hadto let them into the castle. He cast a Patronus to keep us all safe, but not- not before they…" She trailed off as words failed her, and could only look down to hide her shame.

"Okay, okay, I get it." He put a hand out and covered hers for a second. "Remus said he's been teaching you that too, when you've time, so I guess you haven't been totally taken over by the Dark Side yet." He grinned slightly, and she thought it looked a little relieved. "But listen, kiddo, promise me you won't go meddling with the Dark Arts anymore, okay? They'll get in your head, they will."

"I know, I noticed that for myself," she replied with a shudder. "You don't need to worry about me, I learned my lesson."

"Fine." He reached for the bottle and poured himself another round. "I guess I wasn't terribly surprised, what with you being in Slytherin and all… maybe I thought you would have taken another year or so."

"What's done is done," Snape said, likewise refilling his glass. "Don't pretend you were a saint when you were in school, Black."

"I could say the same to you!" he snapped. "Always skulking around, up to your neck in the Dark Arts! And those so-called friends of yours! Avery, Mulciber, Rosier? All of them became Death Eaters in the end!"

"Death Eaters?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at Snape.

He sighed and looked both sad and irritated at the same time. "There were bound to be a few, Potter, the Dark Lord was nearing the height of his popularity, and he had a knack for attracting those of pureblood belief."

Hazel shook her head. "Bit rich of him, saying that stuff when he's a half-blood himself. What's the word for it?"

"Hypocrisy?" Sirius suggested. "You've found a lot of that in those dungeons of yours, I'm sure-"

"That's enough, Sirius!" Hazel snapped, thudding her bottle on the table. "Did you really come all the way out here just to talk shit about my House? After what you said before?" She shook her head at him. "I've already been punished for what happened, so unless you've got something to add, can we please put this behind us?"

For a second he stared at her, brow cocked upward in disbelief. Then he chuckled and shook his head. "They haven't robbed your nerve, at least." He sighed and finished his glass. "I'll leave it for now, Hazel, but if I hear of you practicing Dark Arts again I'll come straight up there and deal with you myself, is that understood?" His gaze flicked over to Snape again. "She at least got detention or something, right?"

"That will hardly be necessary," Snape murmured disdainfully. Sirius shot him a glare, then stood up to leave, clapping Hazel on the shoulder as he went. Snape waited a few moments, then refilled his glass again. "Well?"

He was expecting more questions, she guessed. "Why didn't you give me detention or something, sir?"

An eyebrow quirked up. "As I said, Miss Potter, you were not caught directly in the act. And I consider being outed and shamed before the whole school punishment enough for a Slytherin, but if you feel differently we can certainly make arrangements."

She shrugged and moved on, not especially eager for more punishment. "Were you really friends with Death Eaters during school, sir?"

"I was." He spoke very quietly, and no one was listening that she could tell. "You must understand, they were influential people even then, and it was unwise to stand against them. Easier, in fact, to fall in with that crowd, do the things they did."

"I can't imagine my mother was especially fond of them," Hazel noted, tipping her bottle back and frowning at the now-empty container. For a second she wasn't sure what he meant by 'do the things they did', until she thought it through and realized that probably meant she was the one who started doing things that other people did.

"No, she was not." He drained the glass and put it aside, then put the bottle in his pocket. "Come along, Potter, we're done here."

"One moment, sir, I want another butterbeer." He rolled his eyes at that, and she approached the bar. "Er, Mr Aberforth, sir? Could I get another bottle, please?"

The older man stared at her for a long moment, then he snorted and reached beneath for another bottle. "On the house," he grunted, handing it down to her and pulling a couple silver coins from the tip Snape had left.

"Thank you." She popped the cap off herself and caught up with Snape, chugging her drink down happily as she thought about what she'd learned. When they were outside the village again, and she had finished her drink, she looked up at him. "I see Slytherin didn't stumble on its reputation, sir, did it?"

"No. It is true that many Death Eaters and pureblood fanatics were taught there, and their children aspire to join it, as their parents did. Just as many Slytherin students, however, merely wish to complete their schooling and not attract attention, preferring to save their ambitions for after they graduate."

He looked down at her, and his gaze was speculative. "I suppose, given who you are and what you desire from this world, that a certain amount of disturbance is to be expected in your wake. I entreat you to minimize the blowback on your fellow students, of course."

"I've done my best, sir, but- but things just happen,you know? I'm not in control anymore than Filch is."

"Hardly a comforting thought." They were approaching the doors again, and Snape waved his wand to push them open. "It seems to be lunch time, I'm sure your friends are eager to catch up."

"Yes sir, thanks for today, sir." She dashed off to find the study group, eager to see what she'd missed while discharging her familial duties.

Thankfully she hadn't missed much, and after lunch she threw herself back into it with a vengeance, eager to put the awkward and unsatisfactory Hogsmeade trip behind her.