Artificial Protector [Harry Potter OC/AU]

[Lucernello]

Author Note: Hey guys, new to this forum type sites. You can give me as much feedback as you want, I will accept everything you throw at me, my first language is not english so there might be errors here and there, but I do have a brother who is doing some proof-reading to my chapters, so there is hope you won't find many. Anyway, I don't really like Author notes so I won't probably have many unless I have something to communicate or answer to you guys.

Enjoy!
- Luce

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Chapter 1 - Prototype

She arrived at the train station alone. King-cross was the loudest place she had ever set foot in. With a clear goal in mind though, she didn't let that bother her, moving through filthy muggles and nosy redheads she stalked her target, he seemed lost in his own world.

When he came to a stop between platform 9 and 10 she hid behind one of the big pillars. Knowing the blood-traitors would soon reach them, she whispered and waved her hands in his direction. A small white dove quickly darted from her hands and stopped on his shoulder.

"Watch for the red-heads, they will guide you but be wary… Through the wall…" The dove chirped.

Startled, the boy looked with wide-eyes at the dove trying to make sense of how it could talk. Not wanting to spook the bird he remained still. Seeing as the dove did not move or made any other sound again he let it be and started looking out.

As on queue, the family made its appearance, moving between the platforms, nosy as they can be, complaining about it being filled with muggles. She waited behind the pillar, as the boy watched the entire family go through the brick passage, she was glad he trusted the dove as he did, not engaging with them at all.

She saw his determination to start running and quickly hurried behind him. She had to stop herself running onto him as soon as she crossed the layer, no doubt in his amazement frozen on the spot. Once he started heading to the train she followed. A butterfly flying fast behind her at the same pace.

The blood traitor twins were approaching him from the side, maybe half recognizing him. She couldn't allow them to interfere and put ideas in his head. Moving swiftly she collided with them on purpose. Sending one of them to the floor.

"Ow… Watch it!"

"Slow down ickle firstie-" George stopped talking once he turned around to take a good look at her.

"What do they feed you…? You sent me flying and I didn't even move you." Fred complained while caressing his butt.

"Apologies" She said with a small bow of her head. "Greetings, Mr and Mr Weasley. I didn't see where I was going, I'm sorry."

They both stared at her shocked. Not only because her voice sounded broken but both twins couldn't help but notice her arms. She was wearing prosthetics. Someone so young having lost both her arms was something traumatic to see, even if odds things happen in the wizarding world. She waited a few seconds staring at their wide eyes.

"What-?" they both blurted at the same time.

She didn't let them finish, opting to retreat as quickly as possible, she darted to the train leaving them behind. She roamed the long hallway until she found him, moving slowly by the train looking for an empty compartment. She observed the thin dark-haired boy with sharp green eyes, his glasses crooked and broken, he looked nervous. His clothes, a mixture of worn, torn and old, too big for his size.

She moved silently following his pace. Once she saw him enter a compartment pulling his trunk, his owl cage and other materials left behind in the luggage compartment, she quickly followed. As she entered he stared at her with curious eyes expecting her to talk first, his hand caressing the dove. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom, looking at her with the same shocked eyes as the twins although with curiosity instead of pity.

She said no words, having gone with the plan in his head multiple times, rehearsing her introduction over and over again, now she found herself speechless. Instead, she just upholstered her wand in a swift motion, and whispered faintly, levitating his trunk into the top overhead racks. With another swift motion the dove returned to her and turned into a small hair clip.

"Wow. Eh… Thanks?" Mumbled the now confused and shocked boy.

She motioned him to sit down and soon after she motioned her wand and started chanting with a soft mumble. The wards should keep others from noticing them, unwanted attention was not a distraction she could afford right now. She was going to introduce the boy-who-live to the wizarding world and the matter of his fame. It was a very delicate and important matter.

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He stared at her expecting her to say something, explain or otherwise offer a smile like everything was fine, but instead he got light-brownish eyes staring at him as if trying to devour his soul. She fixed her blond hair behind her ear and sat at his side. He tried her best to not stare at her arms, her fingers had a metallic shine on her palms while it looked like ceramic on her backhand and arms.

He wanted to ask, his curiosity getting the better of him. He didn't know if it was normal in this world and asking would make it uncomfortable or awkward, maybe she wasn't expecting that or it would be rude. Maybe she was just shy…

"Hi… Uhm, I'm Harry"

"It's my pleasure, Harry Potter. Apologies, I'm Lynne Volant. You can call me Lynne."

He was shocked again, there was something wrong with her voice, it was like a whisper and the sound was broken, a mixture of a grunt and a cough.

"Er... Don't worry about it. Nice to meet you, Lynne. You can call me Harry obviously. What was the spell you used to get my trunk up there? And where is your trunk?"

He wanted to ask so many things, why warn him to be wary of the red-heads, why did she looked like that, what happened to her voice, but he didn't want to come off as nosy or annoying. Concern showing at his face.

"The levitation charm, I can teach you or you can wait to learn it this year. This is my trunk."

She pointed to the butterfly that was now stuck to her hair slowly beating its wings.

"I love magic. Would you teach me…?" He squealed with excitement.

"Of course, in exchange, I would like to be your… friend"

"Sure!" He beamed happily, he was worried he wouldn't make any friends as he never had any in the past. Here was the first wizard his age to talk on his way to the school and now a new friend! Although it also raised a concern… what if his new friend was sick. Not to mention her missing limbs…

"Sorry if this is rude… but are you sick?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your arms…a-nd and… your voice. I've heard of diseases that affect the whole body-"

She chuckled although it sounded more like a croak. She finally smiled, a small one but one at last. She was not used to someone looking at her so worriedly. She didn't know about diseases like that but she couldn't really explain to him what happened to her.

"I'm not, you don't have to be concerned about me. In fact worrying about me is a waste of your time."

He frowned at her, confused. Did he upset her in some way? But she laughed, maybe it was not as serious.

"Well, friends care for one another, right?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never had one so it's new for me."

Oh. Maybe she was like him after all, and now that he thought about it, it made sense, it would be difficult for her to make friends. Looking at her, it was hard not to stare and make her uncomfortable. He thought of all the pity looks she may occasionally get and how tough it would be to make true friends and not someone who just was nice to her because of her circumstance. He wouldn't like to be friends with someone just because they took pity on him.

"That makes both of us new at this! We shall be the best of friends. And I think friends should take care of each other."

She seemed to be thinking about it but with a slight nod she agreed.

"Then as your best friend in the 9 hours we have until we arrive, I will teach you everything you need to know for now. You grew up with muggles, I can see that clearly, so we need to get you up to speed, boy-who-lived."

"Ugh… of course you know more about me."

"Everyone knows yes, I'm sure you've noticed, but do you know why? The story about your parents, what happened that night and your fame?" He shook his head. "I think first we must buy sweets. Be right back, the trolley lady won't stop in our compartment."

She spoke quickly and Harry could only watch as she chanted again with a side motion, the wand lit up and she opened the door and closed it behind her. He waited for a few minutes anxiously, he wanted to know more about his parents, about the looks people gave him as soon as he entered Diagon Alley. There was also another concern… not knowing what a trolley lady was or what sweets they could get and his imagination was running wild.

Maybe magical candy was way different, he never had one before. It seemed ages when she returned. She had a smile on her face and a lot of different boxes and wraps floating behind her. With a wave of her hand all of the packages went flying and sat besides him on the train seat. The butterfly followed as she moved inside of the compartment resting on her hair again. He wondered what type of spell or charm was in use for that.

"My apologies, Harry. It took so long because I had to summon a toad for Mr. Longbottom and there was this young girl that was bombarding me with questions about the charm."

"A toad? Summon?"

"Sweets first! I bought one of each so you can try them all." She beamed at him sitting in front of him, she took a purple cardboard box.

"Oh… I have money I can pay you if you tell me how much it costs"

"I would expect you to have, your family is one of the most ancient and noble wizard families, although you could have bought yourself better casual clothes. But this round is on me. You can get the next one. Here, bite the head first."

He hummed and stared at the chocolate frog that seemed to be alive in his hands. He took a bite and smiled. It was sweeter than regular chocolate and the taste was good. But the feeling of confusion did not sit that well for him and every time Lynne spoke it was like a million questions were prompt in his head.

"What do you mean with ancient and noble families?"

"Well… I have a lot of explaining to do and many things I want to teach you. To prepare you for what is to come. You deserve it after all. Although we will need more time than what we have."

A flicker of emotions changed his face until his determination shined through his eyes. He swallowed what was left of the chocolate frog and looked at her, chin up high.

"I'm ready then, teach me."

"I will do my best." She pointed her wand to his face and without saying a word his glasses, that were once crooked and cracked, were repaired instantly. In awe he inspected the glasses as if they were now a precious gem and put them on again. He could see clearly for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"The mending charm, Reparo." Another thing to learn then. He thought it was starting to be a long list indeed.

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He had spent most of the trip quietly listening to Lynne, her words slowly arranging themselves in his mind, filling the gaps in a world he had almost no understanding of. He learned about the second wizarding war against a Dark lord, about what happened with his parents, what he did to him as well. About his probable inheritance and what the Potter family left behind. Inventions, potions and businesses.

He was left feeling anxious knowing that there would be a lot of expectations because of silly stories spread around and lies about his heroic deeds. He learned that there are different types of spells, charms, curses, jinxes, hexes and elemental spells. That magic could be cast through other means like rituals and runes, he learned about wards and potions.

He felt a headache was fast approaching with the amount of information he was drilled with, but luckily not everything had been information. He could put up with a bit of annoyance if it meant he could learn new spells and charms. He had learned a few charms and even though it took him a few tries, he eventually got Lumos, Levioso and Reparo working for him. She also transfigured his hair to be a bit longer, and although it was still the untamable beast, he could hide his scar behind it now and maybe blend in a bit. He hoped at least.

Lynne explained the charms behind her trunk, a combination of the shrinking charm and insect transfiguration, as well as the one that worked for her hairpin, how she had discovered that she could combine it with a variation of the protector charm to send messages. He was amazed at her brilliance but secretly hoped she was just a genius and not all his classmates would be at that level already. One thing was certain, he was quite happy to have met Lynne. He learned so much already and knew that if he ever had any questions she would happily answer, wouldn't look down on him for not knowing and most of all.

She seemed kind enough to teach him. Even things she couldn't fully grasp with how she would go out of her way to have him understand everything he was curious about. Hopefully most students would be like Lynne, but he doubted that after his encounter with the blonde student while getting his clothes. Malfoy, he had mentioned his name was, talking to him like it should have been obvious.

"Which house do you think you are going to be sorted into?" he blurted out while remembering his conversation.

"I will go to whichever house you go, my mentor taught me that you have a bit of a choice if you manage to convince the one who sorts you." She said without a sliver of doubt.

"I don't want to lose my only friend out of sight just yet and I don't really care about something as silly as a house. Although if I don't manage to convince the one who sorts, we will still be friends."

He felt a warm feeling in his chest, no one had ever cared for him like that.

"What if you get sorted first…?" he asked nervously. He also didn't want to be separated from his first friend, even if they could still see each other eventually.

"You will be sorted first, they call by surname. I'm a Volant, Harry. You have nothing to worry about."

He sighed in relief and also blushed a bit embarrassed at himself having asked such a silly question, but if she thought it was something dumb to ask she didn't show any signs of it.

"We are almost there, I'm going to leave you change into your school robes."

While Harry was still wondering how she knew that without even looking through the window she exited the compartment again dismantling the wards he now knew of and was almost certain were a very advanced piece of magic. He quickly changed into his black robes and prepared his trunk and things. When Lynne came back, she had a very foul face. Behind her he saw Malfoy and two bigger students at each side of him.

"So this is where you were hiding… Are you really Harry Potter?" the blond asked.

"Yes, it's my pleasure Draco Malfoy."

He extended his hand carefully and Malfoy hesitated but shook it all the same.

"And who are you?" He said to Lynne looking disgusted by her arms. Lynne had that same blank expression at the beginning of the ride.

"I am Lynne Volant, last of my line." Malfoy was stunned for a bit, probably because of her particular voice.

"I thought your family name fell under the Lestrange. I welcome you though, we need more pure families in Hogwarts."

With a small bow she didn't bother with an answer. Harry had already assumed Lynne was from a wizard family so that was not a surprise, but what Malfoy said did catch him by surprise for another reason. She had made a small list of family names earlier that he should be wary of, Malfoy was there and the Lestrange as well, loyal to the Dark Lord. Did she say that because of her own experience with the family? Malfoy decided that the bow was enough, it seems because he turned to him while he was caught up in his own thoughts.

"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle, I thought you were not aware of anything when we met the first time, why did you pretend?"

Putting his focus on the question he tried his best to remember what little he learned from Lynne into effect.

"Well… you can't expect me to show off, I have enemies out there, right?" He said trying his best to feel confident.

"Right… of course. How silly of me. I would offer help but I can see you are in good hands. Remember, Potter, some families are better than others. We will help you."

"Thanks… Thank you, Malfoy. If we are in the same house I will be glad to have your guidance." He gave a small smile.

"Great, I think we are almost there so I will leave you to it." With a short bow, Malfoy and his grunts exited the compartment and he saw Lynne finally relax, and wondered what could have happened if things didn't go well.

He didn't want to end up anywhere near Malfoy though, someone who looked at his friend like that was not worth being friends with. But she had said previously that antagonizing any of the list was a bad idea. She gave him a small smile, her wand appearing on her hand and with a small motion the butterfly flew to the overhead compartments and transformed into a small trunk.

"The staff at Hogwarts will take our trunks and luggage inside. We just leave them here." He nodded, still amazed at how much she knew. As if part of a script, there came an announcement from the train's speakers telling them to leave their luggage behind.

"Engorgio." She muttered and her trunk suddenly became as big as his. He made a mental note to ask her about the charm and about her family later.

"Before we leave… here." She handed him a small notebook. He opened it briefly and saw that it was empty.

"You can use it to write down important things you want to remember, it is enchanted to only let the person who writes on it to read its contents."

Before he could even respond, she fixed her robes, wand disappearing on her sleeves and exited the compartment. He quickly followed behind, pocketing the notebook, on the way they met a stream of students that were also descending the train. They followed a few of the younger looking students that all had the black robes as well.

"First years! First 'ears over here!" Hagrid was motioning everyone close. He was happy to see him again.

"Heya 'Arry! Excited aren't ya. Already making friends. Well come 'ol over here."

They followed Hagrid through a clearing leading to a small port. Hagrid guided them to the boats and then told them they would cross the big lake 4 students per boat. Lynne was close to him glaring at other people who would look their way, almost as if he had a guard dog, he found this strange but maybe she was taking this friendship different from what she should because she never had any. He made a mental note to talk about it with her later as well, aware that the list was growing.

They floated through the lake and as he took the sights of the castle he felt like it was all worth it in the end, it stood at such a magnificent level, and it really felt magical. He descended from the boats and followed Hagrid, they then were greeted by Professor McGonagall, she briefly informed them that they would be sorted right away, she gave information on the houses and their traits although Lynne had already explained how it worked. The professor told them to wait while checking if the Great Hall was prepared.

He was about to ask Lynne about what to expect when a bushy girl that wouldn't stop giving facts about the castle to a shy chubby boy answered his questions. Some red-head was telling other students how they would have to fight a troll, not realizing he was being pranked by his brothers which led to Malfoy starting an argument with him. He called him Weasley so he tried to remember what Lynne had said about them.

The Weasleys were allies of Albus Dumbledore, Lynne said to be careful with them as they would have ulterior motives to ally themselves with the so-called savior or boy-who-lived. He wanted genuine friends, not someone who would just approach him because of that. There was so much to learn, so little time to adjust, and he started dreading having lived with the Dursleys yet again, why couldn't he have gotten a family that would have taught him what he needed to know.

He was brought back off his thoughts when a few of the students upfront let out small shrieks as ghosts came to greet them. They gave their introductions while some students whispered in awe. As they left professor McGonagall returned and led them into the Great Hall.

"...it's enchanted to make it look like the sky above… read it in Hogwarts: A history."

It was quite pretty, a night sky full of stars, while candles floated in the ceiling. He observed 4 long tables and the banners of each house with their colors. They walked through the students seated in each house until they were all in front of a long table of professors. There on a stool lay a hat, it seems Lynne didn't lie in the end. As part of the welcoming, the hat started singing, he didn't catch much of the lyrics, his mind just taking the entirety of the castle, but everyone was respectful and made no sounds until it finished.

Once everyone was settled they started calling by last name. One by one all the students in the first year were called. He wasn't feeling nervous or anxious anymore, choosing to trust Lynne to follow him into whatever house he was sorted somehow. She had been on point with everything so far. He was sure that whichever house he ended up in, he would have someone to ask questions and have answers, hopefully a friend as well. He saw Malfoy get sorted into Slytherin and knew that if he was indeed going there he would have someone who could help him out as well.

The bushy girl and the shy boy pair both went into Gryffindor, from his name he concluded he was the one who lost the Toad that Lynne summoned.

"Harry Potter!"

At the call of his name, he stepped forward trying to ignore the whispers and people staring at him. He settled nicely in the stool and felt the hat being placed on his head.

"Ah, Harry Potter. Interesting… Mmm, yes, a lot of courage and bravery but also a thirst for knowledge, you don't like being in the dark. Difficult… Very difficult." He was amazed at the voice of the hat, but he didn't comment, he was quite certain he could influence the decision from the hat otherwise Lynne wouldn't have been that confident in saying she was going to follow him but he had no preference either.

Opting to remain quiet, the hat continued. "You would make a nice Ravenclaw, I see you are quite intelligent but easily overwhelmed. The fear of expectations have made their way into your head as well now, and in Slytherin you would do well to meet them head on, you could do great things there."

"You have loyalty for friends enough to get into Hufflepuff and courage and bravery enough to defy the most terrible of Dark lords… You would do well in any house I'm sure." At this point the hat was taking so long people were whispering and speculating. It made him nervous so he decided to break the silence to focus on something else.

"How can students influence your decision?" he asked.

"Well it depends, I wouldn't say they have a choice but they can convince themselves after they talk to me and I support their decision… you are a curious boy."

"How would I have known that before coming here?".

"You feel that you are ignorant of many things, things you think you should know… Why is that?" He was annoyed, the hat was not answering his questions completely.

"I feel that people around me know my place in this world better than I do and that is frustrating. I'm also lacking common wizardry knowledge that I have no way of knowing how to get."

"Well, if you are so sure knowledge is what you want… better be… RAVENCLAW!"

He removed the hat and handed it to the professor before stepping down, the Ravenclaw table was cheering and clapping while many in the Gryffindor table looked confused. He sat down beside an Indian looking girl that was sorted just before him. Her twin was looking at her from the Gryffindor table with a glare. He was greeted by other Ravenclaws and he focused hard to remember their names with their faces from the sorting so far. Boot, Brocklehurst, Corner, Goldstein, Li, MacDougal, Patil. Then came Turpin after him.

"Lynne Volant."

He watched as a few whispers were heard as well, probably because of how she looked. He awaited eagerly as she sat down and let professor McGonagall put the hat on her head.

"Oh another hat stall" Murmured an older Ravenclaw by his side.

"What do you mean?" Asked Harry without taking his eyes off the blonde girl.

"When the hat takes more than 2 minutes it's called a hat Stall, you took the longest so far. We can talk later about it if you want. I'm Marcus Belby by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Marcus."

"RAVENCLAW!"

He jumped a little bit but again not completely surprised that Lynne would stay true to her word. She walked gracefully and sat beside Harry after he moved a bit to let her sit.

"I'm glad you could convince the hat to join me, Lynne." he said. In fact he couldn't have been happier, having a friend already was all he had hoped for, especially one who had so far answered every question he had.

She gave a slight nod and a small smile. The headmaster started his speech, giving a welcome to all of the first years. Then shouted a few funny words that made no sense whatsoever at least to him. Lynne turned to the table all of a sudden. At that moment food appeared out of nothing, the entire table filled to the brim with food. Harry had never seen so much in one place before, much less eaten anything from there. The Dursley had denied him to taste most foods only leaving him with scraps or things he could sneak away with.

"Is he a bit… mad?" he asked, watching Dumbledore. Marcus eyed him carefully and let out a small chuckle.

"He is a bit barmy, yes… peas, Harry?"

He started piling a bit of food on his plate, not sure what to eat first, but making sure to at least try a bite of everything. As he was doing this he noticed that Lynne made no moves to even pick up anything from the table and frowned.

"Did you not find anything you like?" he asked.

"I'm fine, I'm not hungry right now. Don't worry." Came the reply in a whisper. Sue and Anthony were watching curiously but said nothing.

"Already keeping secrets, Harry?" Marcus asked his side, gaining a glare from the girl.

He ignored the question entirely, hoping that if he acted innocent enough, the older boy would leave it be. Which he did, no one followed it up either so he just shrugged and continued eating. When watching the tables of professors his scar started hurting terribly. So much so that he couldn't hide the pain.

"Are you okay?" Lynne said, looking at him worried.

"Yes, just a headache." He tried to ignore it. But he saw clearly that one of the professors was staring at him. He averted the gaze instinctively. After dinner the headmaster spoke again.

"First years, please note... that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students." He thought that having a forest close by could have been a cool adventure, despite the name.

"Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

He saw several different surprised and scared faces. He was surprised as well, but he didn't know if things like that were normal. He turned towards Lynne, it seemed that she was calm and just reading a small book which she had pulled out of nowhere somewhere in the middle of the feast.

"Is it normal to have something that could kill students here…?" he asked in a whisper.

"Not that I know of…" came the answer without her lifting her gaze at all.

The prefects started rounding up all first years, and they left behind the Great Hall to head for their common rooms. Ravenclaw was up the castle near the astronomy classroom and it was quite the trek after dinner. The entrance to the common room was located on the west side of Hogwarts at the top of a spiral staircase that started on the fifth floor, and was a door without a doorknob or keyhole, but a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Penelope Clearwater was the prefect leading them to the entrance, and the group followed her closely. After the introductions were made she explained common rules like curfew times or how detention and point losses work for disciplinary actions.

"You will have to answer a logic puzzle or riddle to enter the common room. If you failed it, you will have to wait for someone else to answer theirs to enter. But you can also ask a prefect if they can help you in." She explained.

"Seas with no water. Hills with no earth. Roads never stepped on. What am I?" said the eagle.

"A map." Penelope answered. The door opened and the prefect made a wave motion for everyone to step in. The Ravenclaw common room was a wide, circular room, airier than most rooms Harry had ever seen. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls, which were hung with blue- and-bronze silks. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. There were tables, chairs, bookcases, some instruments like telescopes and globes lying around, and opposite to the door stood a tall statue of white marble.

"Alright boys on the right hallway you will find your quarters, they are divided by year and usually 3 per room. Same for the girls on the opposite hallway."

After the long day Harry was feeling quite tired and wanted to see who he was paired with. Being honest with himself, he wanted to ask a million questions to Lynne but he was pretty sure he wouldn't stay awake to keep the answers in his head. He walked to the right hallway to find his room. He found his initials alongside Anthony Goldstein. It seemed his room was only for the 2 of them and the rest of his classmates were in the other room.

He flopped to the bed that had his trunk closest to it. Anthony started unpacking beside him. Once both of them finished unpacking and settling in for the night, he closed his curtains and thought of all that transpired that day. It was a lot to take in, he made the decision to gather everything he needed to know. He took out the small notebook that Lynne had gifted him, and wrote down what he wanted to ask for tomorrow. He let himself rest his head on the soft pillow, having a bit of an emotional overload at having his first bed. Having changed into run-down clothes to sleep, he was feeling quite comfortable and sleep took him quite quickly.

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He awoke early. The curtains did not let a lot of light through but he knew it was around 6 or 7am. He quietly changed clothes to his robes. Then exited the room trying not to wake up his roommate. He entered the common room and saw in a corner of a table Lynne's blonde hair. She was reading again, maybe that is how she knew so much. By day, the Ravenclaws had a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and he took a moment to take in the sights, then went to sit beside her.

"Good morning, Lynne. Slept well?" he asked cheerily.

"Good morning, Harry." Frowning she took out a small circle watch from one of her pockets.

"It is still quite early, what are you doing up?"

"Already slept enough, I used to wake up early to make breakfast for my relatives."

He wondered how useful a watch would be, and why there wasn't a spell for the time. Surely if there was, Lynne would know about it.

"I see, well we can go for early breakfast, the Great Hall still should give us food if you ask for it."

"Before that, can I ask you a few things?" She nodded slowly.

"Yesterday Malfoy said your family was part of the Lestrange family. They are on the list you told me to be careful about. Should I be worried?" He asked half-jokingly.

"The Lestrange family was very loyal to the Dark Lord in the war. They carried his will and were ruthless. That is why you must be careful with them, although I believe all of them are in Azkaban Prison. A pureblood family that married to the Blacks as well."

She shifted a bit on the chair. "The Longbottoms suffered the most to them. My family joined the Lestrange a long time ago, back when they were in France, around 300 years ago. My immediate family comes from a squib and a muggle."

"The Volant family used to cast away squibs so there are branches of the family lost that they do not know about. And sometimes magic just finds its way again."

"What is a squib…?" It sounded awfully like a freak and he was not liking that at all.

"Occasionally, a child born to magical parents lacks any magical ability. Those people are called squibs. They are quite rare."

"If the Lestrange are in Azkaban, and your family is in France, who took care of you and why did you come to Britain?"

"I was raised by a friend of my father once they noticed I could wield magic. They lived here. I took the family name so that I could be more independent."

Harry had a lot more questions now, but it seemed like Lynne was not fond of the topic so he didn't want to make his first friend uncomfortable. He could see that it made her move on the chair and her eyes looked anxious.

"Well… I had another question. You kept glaring at people that got close to me when we were approaching the castle. Is there someone who I should be wary of?"

"No, I was being paranoid, the amount of magic that hit me approaching the castle messed my thoughts. I will try to be more subtle."

He was happy with that answer. He wanted to make more friends and he didn't want Lynne to push people away from him.

"Let's go have breakfast now, I'm getting hungry."

She got up and pushed the book into a small satchel he now noticed she had on her. Hidden below her robes. There was no way that satchel could hold the book but it seemed to swallow it when the book was close to it.

"Wicked."​

 

[Lucernello]

Chapter 2 - Pawn

Albus Dumbledore paced nervously in his office. He had felt the wards of the castle warn him of not one, but two malicious or dark cores entering Hogwarts. His plan only accounted for Voldemort. He could admit that luring the dark lord to the school with the stone was not the smartest choice, but he was desperate.

He needed to prove to himself that the prophecy was still in full effect, that Harry Potter was still protected and that he could delay his return. Had he gotten more than he bargained for? He needed to be careful and plan again. He was in the Great Hall earlier than usual, to see if he could detect something or someone as the students and professors arrived. He was highly suspicious of Quirrell of course, having traveled to Albania where rumor of a Dark presence had spread.

But so far, Quirinus had not been in contact with anyone as far as he could gather. The portraits acting as his spies mentioned he had not communicated with anyone yet and no owls had been dispatched either.

As the first students began to fill the Great Hall his magic sensed a dark nature. He looked around and saw Harry Potter enter. He was following a blond student that had unnatural arms. He feared that the scar on the boy had done something to him. When he left him to his family, he could feel that it was something foul but that was not harming the boy. If he was being possessed or going dark his plans would fail.

He carefully sent his magic to him, he felt nothing out of the ordinary and when he looked at him he could sense his feelings, nervous, anxious, like any first year first days, but content. He curiously gazed upon other students that had entered as well, no one felt any different.

The entire breakfast continued, because Quirrell was now there, he couldn't really know if there was another dark agent by feeling alone. He still scanned the place trying to see who Quirrell was looking at. But nothing came out of that either. When Harry and his friend departed after their schedules were handed in he took a moment to calm his mind and walk away to his office again, feeling anxious.​

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	MONDAY	TUESDAY	WEDNESDAY	THURSDAY	FRIDAY
8.30-9.30	D.A.D.A.	Herbology	Charms	Charms	History
9.45-10.45	Herbology	Charms	Transfig.	D.A.D.A.	Astronomy
11.00-12.00	Charms	D.A.D.A.	Potions	History	Potions
12.00-13.00	LUNCH	LUNCH	LUNCH	LUNCH	LUNCH
13.00-14.00	Transfig.	History	D.A.D.A.	Transfig.	Potions
14.15-15.15	History	Potions	Herbology	Transfig.	FREE / FLYING (2nd Week)
15.30-16.30	Astronomy	Astronomy	FREE	FREE	FREE
Midnight			Astronomy

Harry took a look at the schedule. It was Monday September 2nd so they would have to find the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. Luckily, it seemed Lynne knew where to go and just started heading in that direction. He was still quite worried about her. She didn't reach for any food and just read quietly while he ate.

He thought that maybe the girl, much like himself, suffered long periods of not eating and she wasn't used to that much food. She did look thin beneath her robes, although he wasn't sure. They were kind of saggy after all. He would have to talk to her after class, maybe at lunch. He followed her to the classroom, they were one of the first to enter so they got to pick their seats.

The classroom reeked of garlic and it wasn't the most pleasant smell. It wasn't that uncomfortable but still not pleasant. Slowly the room filled out with students from his year and as well as Slytherins students. He gave a polite bow to Malfoy from where he was sitting and got one in return. They shared the first and second period with Slytherin.

"M-my name i-is Pr-pr-professor Quirinus Qu-quirrell. I will t-t-teach you a-bou-t the dark creatures yo-u wi-ll n-eed to def-f-fend against and how."

He went on to explain curses and counter-curses, but the explanations were so slow and the horrible stutter made the class impossible to follow correctly. Lynne looked straight up murderous and Quirrell did not go near them at all for the entire lesson. Not even calling them or looking at their direction. And whenever he gave his back to Harry he felt a strong headache coming in from his scar. Something he was not sure why kept happening.

He was glad when the class ended to bolt out of there, luckily it seemed that Lynne was not happy either to stay any second longer.

"How is he allowed to teach at all? He is useless and a coward. I can't believe he is stupid enough to believe that the amount of garlic present would stop a vampire at all. " he heard Malfoy complain to his cohort of Slytherins that were following out of the class. "I will have my father hear about this."

He snorted but quietly left them behind following an impatient Lynne to the greenhouses. Again, he was surprised at how knowledgeable she was with the Castle. So he had to ask.

"How do you already know where to go?"

"I created a spell to point me in the direction I really want to be. It doesn't work long distances but it's enough for me to reach classrooms." she answered without stopping.

"But I didn't see you cast anything…"

"Another thing to teach you then? There are many spells which affect only your vision, like the Revelio charm."

He was happy he had Lynne to teach him things like that, but he still had a lot of questions as to how she knew all of this. And create a spell? Wasn't that supposed to be quite advanced? It didn't make a lot of sense to him now that he could compare her with other students. They knew almost as much as him after all. Putting the thought aside, he followed her into Herbology Class and he only learned one thing that day, plants were scary.

Charms was the first class shared with Gryffindors at the start of the week, and the first time he could answer questions that he had learned on the train! It was nice to be able to go over magic theory like a ping pong between the small professor and other students. He gained points to Ravenclaw and it felt good to know.

Having Lynne as a partner in charms though was a bit off-putting. She seemed to never pay attention and never raised her hand to answer anything but as soon as Professor Flitwick called for her she would answer correctly every time. Each time, people flinched at her voice. It seemed like the professor did not mind or didn't show it at least.

He didn't know if it was a sensible topic for the girl to answer, so he was thinking of ways to come up with the topic sometime soon. At the end of the class he saw the bushy girl staring at them. It seemed like a glare but he was not sure or why someone would target them specifically.

"Do you remember the name of the girl that is staring at us?" He asked in a whisper, avoiding her gaze.

"Hermione Granger, I have no clue why she is staring. It looks like a mix of curiosity and competitiveness. It doesn't look important enough." she whispered back.

He blinked surprised at her answer. "How can you see so well so far away…?"

"Harry, are you sure those are the right glasses for you?" As he wondered the same question, Lynne was packing his books into her satchel.

As they made their way out of the classroom, she gave him a run down on how her spell worked to get a helping guide to a room he was thinking of as a destination. She explained that it was a deviation from a spell called Four-point, Point me, that would point always to the north. Instead of pointing to the north, this spell would point to a specific destination.

"You can try it, it works best with rooms you already know, but if you don't, the spell will try to gather information from different magic sources to find the room. That's why it doesn't work long distances..." she stopped suddenly in the middle of the corridor.

"Try it, visualize the great hall, we have to be there for lunch. You will guide us there."

"I still think the wand movement is quite complicated. Well… here goes. Indica Locus." Waving the wand in the pattern of the spell. He was still amazed at the complexity of the spell. At the third try a small blue path appeared in front of him guiding the way.

Happy with having success with the spell, he ushered Lynne to follow him and together they headed to the Great Hall. Harry was liking his first day so far.

"Why are you not eating again, Lynne?" he looked at her concerned.

"Just a condition, Harry. I don't ever get hungry, if I need it I will eat something from my trunk. Don't worry about it."

"Does it have anything to do with your voice?"

"No. My voice sounds like this because I screamed until my cords snapped, magic couldn't heal it in time."

His eyes opened in shock. "W-what do you mean…?"

"I meant that I screamed so much that I damaged my vocal cords beyond repair."

"Who… what made you scream?"

"It was my torture resistance training."

He didn't know what to answer at all. He imagined terrible things, he wasn't sure what this training was about but if it had you screaming until she was hurt, it couldn't be a good thing. His own experience with screaming had been met with more punishment at the Dursley and he couldn't possibly understand how that could be a training.

"Was this your father's friend who trained you?" He made the mistake of speaking about this, now he was being anxious, thinking of the Dursleys.

"My mentor and guardian, yes." a small smile on her lips. And just that tiny gesture gave Harry the feeling of relief that he needed to relax a bit.

"Well, we should head to transfiguration." He thought it was best not to continue with the topic. If one of the few smiles she had were thinking about his mentor then he shouldn't be that bad.

Walking to the class and sitting down with Lynne beside him, he saw a cat on the professor's desk. It was strange arriving earlier than a professor. Lynne nodded to the cat and opened her book. She had warned him that the stern professor would usually leave the theory of transfiguration for self-study, having more practical classes instead. He had read a bit on lunch time ahead, he was hoping that was enough.

After a few minutes the cat jumped from the desk turning into the professor. He blinked surprised and in awe with a simple thought: Magic was amazing.

"Welcome to my class, first years. Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

With that, she started making instructions on security and asked a few questions which Harry knew about luckily. He could answer a few and gain more points for his house. This was looking like a great class and although McGonagall seemed stern, she explained well and it was easy to understand.

"For this 20 minutes of class, we will try to change these toothpicks into a needle. The spell is in your book and look closely at me for the wand movements." She proceeded to show them the movements of the wand and turned one of the toothpicks into a needle. He quickly practiced the movements at first only, and he thought it wasn't really hard.

"It's all in your mind, Harry. As long as you can visualize the needle in great detail, the spell should work correctly. Picture the needle first in your head, then try."

He had forgotten about Lynne beside him, he watched as her toothpick was already a needle and he noted that he had never heard her say the spell. He focused on his toothpick, on picturing the needle on his head, a needle that was now easy to picture having seen Lynne's. He performed the spell and much to his surprise, it worked at first try.

"I did it!" He cheered happily hugging Lynne from the side. The surprised girl chuckled at him but did not complain.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. 10 points to Ravenclaw. To you as well, Miss Volant."

They were sharing class with the Hufflepufs but only one of them actually made a needle by the end of the class. Of his housemates, almost everyone except Sue Li managed to complete the needle. He gathered his things and exited the classroom.

History of magic was boring and he had trouble not falling asleep. The ghost professor was so monotonous it was really difficult to keep up. Lynne was reading something else, he kept trying to understand what she was reading, but it was in Latin and he didn't know the language. She was almost falling asleep when she pulled out another book and handed it to him.

It was a book on stars and constellations, what they meant and their application in divination and the study of how magic is influenced by the cosmic movements. It kept him entertained and it was interesting at least, more than the class. Professor Binns just didn't even look at them while he continued rumbling about 15th century events.

After history they had Astronomy and he now understood why she had given him the book, he could answer most things asked and again more points and participation in class. His housemates saw him as a nice addition to their Ravenclaw. He was exhausted by the end of the day though, but happy.

He followed Lynne to the library to ask her a few questions he had about their first day and together they revised a few concepts and spells. Overall it was a nice first day. Dinner was uneventful and immediately after he collapsed in his comfortable bed.
​

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The following morning, Lynne was waiting for him in the common room, again. He was an early riser and somehow she was there. He liked having someone wait for him though.

"Morning, Harry. I have a gift for you."

Harry, who was skipping down to the common room, almost fell down the stairs.

"A gift…?"

"It's a pocket watch. It used to be a regular gift from your family when you became an adult."

It was a small round silver watch just like hers. "Err… why?"

"This one will help you as it also has a particular enchantment with its brother timepiece of mine."

He took it from her cold hard hands making a ting sound. He opened the lid and saw a beautifully carved eagle on the background of the small hands of the watch.

"It's pretty… thank you." he looked at her fondly.

"It has a mental message enchantment. If you press on the small button on the side it can send messages to me, as long as you have it in you, I can send messages to you."

She took hers out and immediately showed it to him how it was done.

Do not think in a pink Elephant.

Harry chuckled and pressed on his.

PinkElephantLynneisamazing.

Lynne smiled a little. "You need to filter your thoughts for the messages, Harry. But thank you."

The boy nodded embarrassed. "Let's go and have breakfast."

They headed to the great hall to eat. Sitting at the Ravenclaw table some of their classmates joined them chatting about their classes for the day. They were chatting more with him than with Lynne, but she didn't seem to mind.

The whole group headed to classes and again, both him and Lynne earned more points. In Charms and Defense they performed a perfect Lumos and he gave a few tips to his classmates. He still left defense with a small headache for some reason.

After lunch they traveled through the castle to the dungeons. Their first potions class. He sat beside Lynne and two Hufflepuff girls who he didn't remember.

"Miss Bones, Miss Abbott." Of course, Lynne knows who they are. She always knows.

"Err, hello."

"Hi."

Harry gave a small wave at them and sat down. A loud door noise made everyone jump and Professor Snape came barling down into the classroom.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making."

He said in a low voice, but everyone was paying attention to him anyway. Harry thought he was intimidating so he started writing down what he was saying as small notes.

"However, for those select few who possess the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses."

"I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!"

He is talking to you.

Startled but managing to recover quickly, Harry looked up to Snape. "Oh, sorry professor, I was taking notes of what you were saying."

"Is that so, Mr. Potter? Yes, you are our new celebrity after all, you should keep up." He was looking at him with disdain. He didn't like being singled out.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Sleeping potion. The draught of living death. Came Lynne's message in his head. Of course! My heroine to the rescue.

"A sleeping potion. The Draught of Living death."

Snaped raised one eyebrow. "Yes. Where do you find me a Bezoar?"

A stone in the Stomach of a goat.

"In the stomach of a goat professor. It's a stone"

Snape looked surprised but nodded.

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant!" He remembered that from the small reading he did on potions that day.

Good job.

He looked to his classmates and Lynne had a blank expression but to his side both Bones and Abbott couldn't hide their surprise.

"Yes it also goes by the name of aconite. You also failed to mention that the Bezoar acts as an antidote to most poisons" He looked at the whole class. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down? 5 points to Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter."

The class continued without any issues after that, they were tasked to do a small cure for Boils potion, there was a cauldron that almost burned down by one of the Hufflepuff boys but Snape managed to spare him of any injuries. He left the classroom feeling content, he managed to finish correctly and without any issues while not feeling like Lynne was doing all the work.

After astronomy they kept studying and reading with Lynne in the library. He finished tired again but pleased with his progress.

As the day went by, classes were easier and came to him almost naturally, he was pushing to get the best marks and Lynne's continued help gave him the boost that he needed. He also kept learning new spells and wizarding culture taught by her, each time more amazed at her brilliant mind.

On friday he received a letter carried by Hedwig with an invitation for tea to Hagrid's hut just outside the castle and although he had been making more friends and being cordial with most of his classmates he only invited Lynne with him. They exited the castle after classes and headed to his house if you can call it that. The cozy hut had a weird exterior but it looked warm and inviting.

He knocked on the door gently, and heard a muffled voice from inside. Hagrid opened the door but before he could even greet the half-giant a cold tongue was hitting his face. Startled he did not react but Lynne did, placing herself in front of him pushing the dog gently back.

"Fang! Oi back of' you old fool. Sorry 'bout that Harry. He means good."

He gave gentle pats to fang once Lynne moved aside.

"Hey Hagrid, we came for tea. This is my friend Lynne."

The giant assessed the girl for the first time and opened his eyes a bit, no wonder surprised by her body. She gave him a small bow and he didn't say anything for a bit and Harry was growing anxious when he just smiled and waved them in.

"I'll set up the kettle. Make yourself at home. Biscuits?"

"Thanks."

It was amazing to see the half-giant navigating through his hut to make tea, you would think with his size it would be difficult but he moved with ease in his place. Harry sat and made space for Lynne to join him. When she sat he heard a faint metal sound hit the seat and for the first time he looked at her legs. They had always been covered so he never thought that she may have lost her legs as well.

"It's nice to see ya' ar' making friends, Harry. How was yur first week? Are you enjoying Hogwarts?"

"It has been great, Hagrid, there is so much to learn and so much to see. Lynne has been helping a lot with everything. We are going to explore the castle this weekend, it should be fun."

"Well I'm glad that ya' are having fun. Yur parents would be proud of you, Harry."

"Thank you, Hagrid."

They talked about his parents for a bit, how they had made Gryffindor proud, Hagrid spoke as if he knew them dearly but at the same time, didn't reveal many details about them. He was wondering why Lynne was not speaking and one looked at Hagrid and he saw that he was eying her from time to time, maybe for the same reason.

"What is Headmaster Dumbledore hiding in the castle, Hagrid? Is it whatever was in the newspaper today about Gringotts Vault 713?"

Hagrid looked at her wide-eyed. "H-how do ya' know about that? The headmaster tasked me with that mission secretly."

"You just gave it away and also did said mission in front of Harry."

"You should not meddle in affairs ya' have no place in."

"One of your pets is guarding it, yes?" Lynne continued asking unbothered.

"How do you know about Fluffy?!" Hagrid was now very anxious and almost screamed at her.

"Fluffy?" Harry whispered.

"I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. Right, out! Go back to the castle both of ya'."

Hurrying back to the castle, Harry couldn't stop the many thoughts crashing in his mind. Following Lynne to the library he felt that he needed a few answers. They found an empty secluded table to sit, something that they were doing regularly this first week after classes.

"If I ask you will explain what that was about?"

"Whatever you want to ask, I will always answer you."

"Why?"

"I've been cursed to always tell the truth if asked, unless someone specifically tells me I cannot tell anyone. I can keep secrets from others but not mine."

Harry looked horrified at that information. "There is a curse for that…?"

"Yes."

"Uhm… alright. Who cursed you?"

"My guardian."

"Is he the one who broke your voice?"

"Yes."

He gulped imagining a worse magical version of Vernon Dursley. He didn't see Lynne show any emotional distress but he didn't want to continue talking about that.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Harry remained quiet for a bit gathering his thoughts.

"So you think they are keeping something in the castle."

She nodded slowly.

"Something that someone tried to steal from the Gringotts vault that Hagrid and I visited."

Again a slow nod.

"It's on the third-floor corridor in Hogwarts."

"And a creature from Hagrid's is protecting it?"

"I assumed so, yes. He looks after the animals and herds around the forbidden forest. It was a hunch of mine, and he just gave it away."

"So the headmaster was not kidding when he said that it was very dangerous to go near the third-floor corridor."

"Quite so."

"Why would they bring it here though?" he didn't want to think badly of the school, but to have something as dangerous that

"As a lure obviously."

"To lure what?"

"Not what. Who."

For Harry, it all sounded very confusing, nevertheless he was excited to know of the plot happening at the castle. It sounded like an adventure. Although he wasn't sure if he wanted to risk it, with how dangerous the creature guarding it sounded. He didn't ask Lynne any more questions and together they kept studying quietly and then returned to their common room.

​

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The second week went by quickly as he fell into a rhythm, and even though he couldn't confirm it due to ending up tired and sleepy each day, he suspected Lynne didn't sleep or eat at all. He never saw her eating at the great hall or ever woken up earlier than her, even though he tried several times. She was always ready for him.

With Friday and the end of the week came their first flying lesson, and Harry was excited to fly for the first time, along with his classmates. That afternoon, they walked outside the castle. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years were lined up in two rows with brooms by their sides laid down by Madame Hooch. Harry observed her short hair and hawk yellow eyes the likes he had never seen. Behind her the small Charms professor followed.

"Good afternoon, class, good afternoon. Welcome to your first flying lesson. You are joined by Professor Flitwick today because of the incident yesterday with the Gryffindor boy. Nasty fall that one."

If she thought that was reassuring it had the opposite reaction clearly. Everyone was scared… except maybe Lynne who had her usual blank face.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone, stand on the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say, 'Up'."

A chorus of 'Ups' quickly followed. To Harry's amazement his broom shot up at his first try straight into his hand. He glanced around and saw that a few were struggling, Lynne already had hers in her hand and he was sure he never heard her even say the words.

The ones who didn't manage it had to pick it up manually from the ground as Madame Hooch continued with the lesson.

"Now, once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. And grip it tight, you don't want to be sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down."

In his excitement he almost kicked-off right there but he felt the cold hand from Lynne touch his shoulder and made him pause.

"On my whistle. 3, 2, 1."

At the sound of the whistle he kicked as hard as he could and shot up to the sky. He hovered, controlling his broom and steadying himself from time to time. He was finding it quite easy to handle and he really wanted to test the limits of the broom already. Feeling confident he gained speed dodging classmates and objects in his path, so focused on his task he didn't hear Hooch telling him to drop down. He had done about 12 laps when he saw his instructor waving at him and making him stop in his tracks, almost falling off the broom, only to be caught by Lynne that was all of a sudden beside him in the air.

"Mister Potter, Miss. Volant, get down this instant! Have you both gone mad?!"

Hooch was furious at them when they landed and started a long rant about safety and endangering the class by flying fast all the while Flitwick was clearly amused.

"It was a nice display of flying you two, I hope to see you try-out for Ravenclaw's Quidditch team next year."

"I'm sorry Professors, I got too excited." pleaded Harry. Lynne just gave them a small apologetic bow.

"No one was hurt, Mister Potter, it's alright." Flitwick said while looking at Madame Hooch.

"Well… yes, no one was hurt but still I expect my instruction to be followed next time. Can't have students doing whatever they want in my class."

They returned to their dorms to rest and catch up on a few things Lynne wanted to teach him. The common room was filled with gossip and they didn't manage to even sit when a few of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team students bombarded them with questions about what they had done.

Apparently Flitwick boasted that they had talent waiting for them. They offered them to participate in their weekly trainings and to tutor them for next year. Harry found himself a bit overwhelmed by the attention but nevertheless a feeling of belonging made him quite happy.

Lynne was aloof at best but she said she would follow Harry along. The next few weeks he spent a few days with the Quidditch team, as well as with his classmates who were now being more friendly and open to him. The only constant being Lynne which the Ravenclaws had begun to call her his shadow.

If only they knew that Harry was the one chasing behind her and trying to learn everything he could out of her, they were talking with the pocketwatch a lot so people also thought that she was quiet because of her condition.

Of course, having a small secret between them meant that he thought they shared a deeper connection and she had a lot more to talk about when no one was listening. Something that was only known to him, something that no matter their knowledge they wouldn't find out.

In the days that followed there was a lot of gossip going around, apparently an infamous pair of twins encountered a Cerberus on the third floor corridor, which Harry now knew was the creature guarding the place. Although it could be an exaggeration with those two, the name 'Fluffy' made sense for a dog. A big mean three-headed dog, but a dog all the same.

Safe to say, he didn't want to approach it anymore and wondered how anyone could be so careless and task it to guard something inside the castle full of students. There was also gossip involving Malfoy and a few Gryffindors after their flying lesson and talk of a duel between the smallest Weasley and him, but there were no details really so he assumed that didn't happen in the end.

One day at the great hall he overheard Seamus, Granger, Longbottom and Weasley talking about the third-floor corridor, apparently they also went looking for some reason, Granger was furious with them and stormed out leaving them behind.

Lynne and Harry found her in the library afterwards doing homework. They sat at another table to do theirs as well. Harry was curious about the cerberus and wanted to ask but he didn't know how to approach her.

What are you thinking of?

Lynne pulled him out of his thoughts and was looking at him intensely.

Just curious about the cerberus, maybe we could ask Granger. You heard her earlier.

He was learning to answer quickly with the pocket watch.

Well, we could, but I worry with her kind of temper she may not welcome it.

And that was true, she had displayed quite a temper at the great hall and now she looked focused on her homework. Bothering her would probably make her ignore them.

Sighing he continued with his homework, he was almost done with all of his essays. He had used History of magic to advance a bit on every subject and it was working for him so far.

"Ahem… do you have a moment?" He looked in the direction of the voice startled and there she was, the bushy haired girl approaching them at their table.

"Hello, Miss Granger."

"Hi… I've noticed you guys are studying hard, do you guys need help? I already finished all my assignments."

Lynne looked at him with a small half-smile.

Want and you shall receive.

Harry giggled a bit which caused the girl to frown and her smile disappearing.

Ups.

"Sorry, we are not laughing at you, it's just that I just said that I wanted to approach you and ask you something."

"We already finished our assignments as well, Harry was just finishing with the transfiguration essay, so maybe you would like to talk with us?"

"Uh, sure, what about?"

"First introductions, I'm Lynne Volant, you can call me Lynne."

"Oh right, I'm Hermione."

"Nice to meet you, Hermione, you can call me Harry."

She fiddled a bit with her fingers and looked nervous.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Is it true that you went into the third-floor corridor? You saw the cerbe-?"

Her eyes went wide and she put a finger on his mouth.

"Shhh, I don't want to talk about that, it's forbidden I could get expelled." she whispered frantically.

"It's true then…"

"Yes… why do you ask?" She looked on edge now and Harry thought that she was going to bolt away at any minute.

"Just that the creature is Hagrid's and I was curious about it, sorry. It's guarding something in there and we just don't know what."

"Well I for one do NOT want anything to do with that, as I said to my annoying classmates, I don't want to end up dead or worse, expelled."

That got a laugh out of Lynne which was quite rare and sounded like a scratching of metal.

"Well, you have nice priorities at least. Do you want to meet regularly with us here? It seems you don't get along well with your 'annoying' classmates."

"Yes, I would love to." She blurted out quickly.

"Awesome, we would love to have more people in our study group, the other Ravens usually ask for help here and there but they don't join us in the library yet."

Harry liked having more friends to talk to and she seemed alright, although a bit nervous around them.

"Just don't boss us around if you know something well enough, Harry is learning from scratch and although he picks up things quickly, he doesn't need nagging."

Hermione looked surprised at her for a minute.

"How do you know I'm bossy? We don't have classes together."

"Oh, the castle is a gossip mill, Hermione and we basically know everything there is to know about first years, apparently our classmates enjoy that."

She frowned again and looked at her feet.

"I will try."

"Awesome! We usually meet in free periods or after class, around 5pm here, sometimes we won't be here but I can let you know somehow."

"Uh… alright."

They talked about a few subjects that they liked so far and what Harry learned with Lynne in their free time. She was surprised that he was learning wizarding customs and culture, clearly not aware that Harry grew up with muggles. Once she got over her initial shyness she was talking for the both of them.

She seems fine, although she rants a lot.

Harry chuckled. Having made a new friend, Lynne and Harry made their exit out of the library, with a small wave to Hermione. Homework done, it was time to keep exploring the castle and going back to their classmates in the common room. They sometimes would invite Harry to play Exploding snap and Gobstones which was entertaining.

Games that were popular for first years that grew up with magical parents but at least they included everyone.

Overall, for Harry, Hogwarts was looking more like a home than Surrey had ever been. It filled him with happy feelings and he was in a very good mood each day. Having full meals was also changing his body a bit, he wasn't looking as scrawny.

All positives so far.​

 

[Lucernello]

Chapter 3 - Automaton

As the month progressed and they entered October's first weeks, Lynne and Harry started practicing offensive and defensive spells. Professor Quirrell's class was terrible and they looked for alternative ways to learn what they were supposed to. They came upon a book at the library that was used for Defense against the Dark Arts 10 years ago, a retired auror had introduced it as second year material but it was easy to master and more entertaining than to suffer Quirrell's stutter.

They would regularly find empty classrooms to practice and spend their free time just going over shields, counter-curses and hexes. Harry was falling into the rhythm of keeping up with Lynne, who was utterly brilliant at everything so far, while also keeping his friendships with his classmates aflame, participating in the common room and even meeting up with Hermione to keep up with homework. Although he didn't have close friends in other houses, sharing almost all of his classes with Hufflepufs was pleasant as they were kind and friendly enough.

Harry was currently panting trying to regain his breath after practicing defensive spells against Lynne. She was quite scary and fast, he was barely able to dodge sometimes, he also had to admit he was out of shape physically while she never seemed to run out of energy, he wondered if she would ever get tired during practice.

"Give me a small break, Lynne."

She broke her stance and pocketed her wand.

"Of course, Harry."

"Also… I wanted to ask you a few questions, they may be uncomfortable but I'm worried."

She nodded and he started fidgeting with his hands and tried to gather his thoughts in order to ask away without being overly rude.

"I've never seen you in your room, and neither did your roommates, you don't sleep do you? You don't eat either, no one has seen you grab a bite ever, but you are never tired. Some of the older students even call you a vampire. Are you…?"

She looked at him for a few seconds, deciding what to answer.

"I cannot answer these questions, Harry. All I can say is that you don't need to worry about me at all, I'm perfectly healthy."

He stared at her in disbelief.

"Are you-- are you a type of creature?"

"No. I'm not any kind of magical creature. And although Vampires do not require sleep, they get tired pretty easily, especially during the day."

"Then how is it possible?"

" I cannot say, you will have to figure it out."

"Is it one of those secrets?"

"Yes... "

"What else can you tell me?"

"My body is hardened and my limbs are all enhanced prosthetics. Magic moves them at will and I have access to a lot of magic in this castle so I won't have issues at all with movement."

"That's amazing, I never thought something like that was possible, even in a world of magic."

"Yes well… it seems it is time to get even more books if this surprises you, I'm sure I will be able to bury you in them soon."

Harry giggled. "Yes, I guess with you, there isn't such a thing as too many books."

"For the time being, don't worry too much about it, Harry. I'm fine."

Harry let the matter rest for now, he wanted to investigate and learn more about Lynne, there were many things that she was not allowed to say it seems. It made sense, her guardian didn't want people to know the details, probably to protect her in some way, maybe that knowledge could be used against her. Would it be alright to investigate further then? Risk others also knowing?

Your thoughts are deafening.

Harry sighed and ruffled his hair, straightened and readied his wand. "Yeah, alright. Sorry, let's go again."


​

---

Hermione was lost in thought while making her way to the library. It was Friday so she was going to use her free time for a quick study and research session. So many things were not going the way she was expecting, she thought that being in Gryffindor was going to be amazing and it turned out to be the opposite. Her own classmates and even the older students from different years were loud, obnoxious and she was finding it hard to bond with anyone in her own house.

They were also bullies that would play pranks on Slytherins and they would often boast about how cruel they were, always thinking they were the good guys for having one-upped the evil snakes. She had gone to her head of house Professor McGonagall but she had dismissed her as just boys being boys and a few pranks not being that bad of a thing. Not being able to connect with her peers was slowly making her more anxious and stressed. She felt like she was back in primary school, outcast and alone.

She was slowly making friends with the Ravenclaws that would meet at the library to study or just talk about things that were interesting to research so at least there was something to look up to, but it was also making her wish she could have been sorted in the house of ravens instead. They were competitive and sometimes a bit jealous of knowledge but that was fun and challenging instead of just being goofy and loud. She felt out of place in her house.

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, in particular, grated on her nerves more than she cared to admit. They were inseparable, always giggling over things Hermione found utterly pointless, like which perfume smells like fairy wings, which older boys were "sooo dreamy," and which shoes matches best with their weekend robes. She tried in the beginning to join their conversations, to find common ground, but every attempt was met with polite smiles that didn't reach their eyes, or worse, bored glances that made her feel invisible.

They even snorted at her once when she offered to help them study as if the very idea of being near books was laughable. Parvati had this habit of acting shocked whenever Hermione didn't know some piece of wizarding pop culture, like she was supposed to have grown up reading Witch Weekly. It was exhausting to say the least. They weren't cruel exactly, but they made her feel like a dusty encyclopedia in a room full of glittering gossip magazines and pompous pictures.

Sighing she let her thoughts return to normal and wondered which section of the library she could set her eyes on today. She knew that the study group was not going to be in there today, most of them agreed they needed a bit of a rest before the chaos that comes with exams started although they did promise to help revise and they included her as well. It was a nice feeling, being part of a group and maybe making more friends soon. She really wanted to have more classes with Ravenclaws.

Most of her classes were with Slytherins, a decision that was stupid in her opinion, it was a hazard to be in there when both were trying to sabotage each other. She had stayed far away from trouble so far, but it was only a matter of time for someone to point at the "muggleborn know-it-all", and at this point she was thinking it could come from either side.

With those worries in mind she walked into a weird situation happening in front of her, a few corridors away from the library three older Ravenclaw boys were cornering a blonde girl from their house as well. Their backs against Hermione, she was going to lower her head, pretend nothing was wrong and continue her way when she caught the glint from the shiny metallic arms she had learned to know this last couple of days.

"You think you are so smart, freak, looking like that no wonder you are trying to make a name for yourself. No good wizard would take your hideous looking self."

Lynne was being harassed by older students from her own house in front of her and she looked like a deer in front of headlights. She couldn't move.

"Not to mention you being so poor that you cannot afford a Skele-gro won't give you many options either."

She flinched at the harsh cruel words that had so much bite on them, if those were directed at her she was sure she would be crying.

"But we will take pity on you of course, after all we are not like the rest, I'm sure you can satisfy us all the same." continued another one of them.

"You already look like a toy after all, right?"

Their laughs are malicious and mockingly mean. On the other hand, Lynne looked calmed and composed, her gaze calculating and focused on them. Hermione knew from Harry that Lynne was good with her magic, and that this could escalate to a full blown confrontation. Gathering some of that Gryffindor courage she pulled her wand out but no spell came to her mind. One of the older boys leaned closer.

"We are talking to you, pile of screws!"

He tried to grab her hair but she moved quickly and grabbed his hand instead, and squeezed hard. A loud cracking noise followed by the scream of the older boy filled the hallway and froze the other two. Standing there doing nothing was clearly not the best decision as Lynne quickly spinned and kicked one after the other in quick succession and they went flying against the wall. With a loud thump noise they fell and proceeded to whine clutching their stomachs.

Lynne, still holding the hand of the screaming boy, spoke for the first time, her voice devoid of emotion and rough as always.

"If you lay a hand again on me or any other first or second year, I will crush your balls instead. Am I clear?"

"Aahhh, please let go, it hurts so much!"

She squeezed more, making him squeal in panic, his body shaking.

"I didn't hear you say it was clear."

"It's clear! Ack! It's clear! I'm sorry! Please let go!" He said in between sobs.

"Good. Remember, I will know if you are being a bother again."

She finally let go of him, the older student crying now on the floor, grabbing his hand in pain, his fingers bent in weird shapes. To Hermione, it looked so painful she had to avert her gaze. She looked up and saw that now Lynne was watching her, and on her hands now lay her wand making the Gryffindor flinch in fear. Hermione knew she should have intervened at least to help her in some way, so that they knew they weren't alone, but she was not brave enough and now Lynne looked ready to hex her for it.

Instead of pointing her wand at her, she bent down beside the sobbing teen and pointed her wand at him. Hermione was scared but the blonde muttered a spell which began fixing the boy's hand in a grotesque and nosy way, his bones mended with a loud snap at which he whelped and sobbed again.

"Go to the hospital wing. And take them as well with you." She ordered while looking at the two still lying on the floor groaning.

Slowly the older Ravenclaw got up, helped his friends up as well and they started walking away wincing in pain.

"Hermione."

Her voice made Hermione jump startled.

"I-I'm sorry, Lynne." She was breathing fast and trying to suppress a sob "I didn't know what to do."

In that moment more students and professor Flitwick came running, probably following the screaming that happened earlier.

"What happened here?! I demand explanations!" said the squeaky voice of the half-goblin, looking at the wounded trio of students.

"They were playing around and now they are hurt, professor. Something akin to 'dueling'. I just happened to be here and I healed his injured hand, but they were heading to the hospital wing to take a look at their wounds." She said.

Hermione bit her tongue as Lynne was carefully avoiding the truth without lying. The professor looked skeptical but the older students just nodded along.

"Well, dueling in the hallways is dangerous, but seeing as you seemed to have learned your lesson I won't give you detentions, 20 points from Ravenclaw. Don't attempt that again boys."

The other students dispersed at that and a few helped the trio walk away. Hermione was biting her lips, resisting the urge to not rattle on what really happened. Lynne seemed to understand and moved closer to her. To say Hermione was scared of her now was an understatement. Flitwick, noticing her nervousness, turned towards them.

"We will be heading to the library now, professor" said Lynne.

The small professor looked suspiciously at her but said nothing, the sudden silence made Hermione hold her breath. Lynne didn't seem to have a problem as she started walking normally, completely ignoring the piercing stare. She didn't want to be left behind so she quickly followed without looking back and hiding her face through her many curls.

When they turned the corner Lynne was gone as if banishing on thin air.

Two weeks later, she decided to tell Harry about what happened, it took her a while to gather her Gryffindor courage, she knew she needed to get it off her chest eventually but she was scared that he wouldn't believe her.

​

---

Hermione cornered him after lunch, just outside the library. Her arms were folded tightly, and she looked more determined than usual.

"Harry, can I talk to you?"

He nodded, sensing her urgency. They found a quiet alcove beneath a tall stained glass window, just out of earshot from the others.

"It's about Lynne," she said. "I know she's your friend and this may sound bad coming from me, but there is something you should know."

Harry frowned. "Alright. What is it?"

Hermione hesitated, then said in a low voice, "Did you hear about what happened to those Ravenclaw boys? The ones that were punished for dueling in the hallways?"

He looked thoughtful. "Yeah, a few people said they hexed each other and ended up in the hospital wing. I didn't hear the full story."

"I did," Hermione said, her voice tight. "I saw it. They were mocking her about her arms, calling her names, blocking her way, humiliating her. She didn't yell or argue. But as soon as they came close to her, she was merciless. I can still hear the scream at times… it was traumatizing."

Harry listened silently. So she continued.

"With two powerful kicks she sent two of them flying! It made no sense, there was no spell, just her kick. Then she grabbed the hand of the one closer to her… I could hear the bones break, Harry. He was crying. Begging. She didn't stop."

Harry's stomach turned while Hermione retold the events.

"Then she fixed it. With a spell I've never seen. The hand twisted and snapped back together like it was being stitched by invisible wire. It was... it was awful and it looked painful, and she looked calm the whole time and there was no anger and no fear and, and… just coldness."

She was breathing hard now anxiously.

He swallowed. "Why did they lie about it?"

"She guided the conversation, frightened them into agreeing with her that it was in a duel."

Harry could feel that she was scared of her, and if it was true what she did, it was reasonable. But Lynne had been nothing but fair to him, he could always just ask her about it later on, she couldn't lie after all.

"Well, if they were bothering her in the first place, it sounds like they learned their lesson."

"I… I know, I just think it was unnecessarily cruel." Hermione whispered. "I also think... I think you need to be careful, I wouldn't want to be close to her if she ever gets angry considering this was her being calm."

He gave a small nod. "I think she could explain this herself, she has always been reasonable. I'll talk to her."

Hermione stepped back, hesitant.

"Don't worry, I won't tell her you told me."

She looked relieved at that, then nodded and walked off toward her common room. Harry remained, staring at the floor, caught between admiration, and something colder. He hated bullies and they would find no sympathy from him.

He briefly wondered how to approach his friend and figured out that the best would be to just directly ask her.

Later that evening, Harry caught up with Lynne in the common room. She sat alone by the window, the fading light of sunset casting golden lines across her face as she scribbled notes into a small leather-bound book. He hesitated for a moment, then sat beside her.

"Lynne? Can I ask you something?"

"You technically already did. "

She didn't look up. He smiled faintly.

"Right. Another question then. About those boys from earlier this month. The Ravenclaws who ended up in the hospital wing. Did they bother you again?"

Lynne paused. Her quill stopped moving, hovering above the page.

"No. I'm surprised they talked about it. "

He wasn't going to betray his word so he said nothing about Hermione.

"They were mocking you, right? About your arms."

"Words that I don't mind. "

Lynne still didn't look at him. Harry shrugged.

"I did what I did because no one should touch someone else if they are not ready for a fight." she continued.

"They chose the wrong person to try to fight."

Harry nodded.

"They were bullies. I don't like bullies. I've lived with them most of my life. You stood up for yourself. Maybe not how I would've done it, but you didn't start it."

She finally turned to him. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was quieter than usual.

"I gave them a warning. They ignored it. "

He nodded slowly. "I figured as much. I'm not mad. I just wanted to hear it from you."

She nodded back and they sat in silence after that, watching through the windows as the last light faded behind the distant hills.

​

---

The following weeks Harry kept up with the top students of his year, the exams were not here yet, but there were a few assignments already graded which mattered still. Not many were keeping tally but he was the top point scorer as well, he was proud and although he would sometimes clash with Hermione due to her very competitive nature, Lynne would encourage him all the time.

He knew he wasn't at her level yet but at this point he was sure no one was and always wondered why. He thought that it made little sense attending classes if you already knew everything there was to learn, she wasn't being arrogant about it and that made him feel at ease with her enough not to ask her about it.

Malfoy had been an ass a few times to her, rumor spread that she probably had little money to her name even if she was a pureblood, something about a potion that should have been used to regrow her arms. Classes with Slytherins were few and they had little to no interaction. Harry wished he would stop parroting about everything his dad said so that they could be friends.

Halloween brought a strange energy to the castle. Floating pumpkins and glowing candles lit the halls with a festive charm, and the Great Hall had been transformed into a spectacle of orange, gold, and violet lights. Harry had never seen so much food in one place. He sat between Lynne and Marcus, laughing at a joke Terry Boot had made about Peeves charming all the Hufflepuffs' shoes to scream.

Still, something was eating at him. Hermione had been absent from the Great Hall. She wasn't in their study group that afternoon either. Harry had heard from Padma that she'd run off to the girls' bathroom after an argument with Ron Weasley, but nobody seemed too concerned. Lynne had glanced in that direction briefly, but said nothing. She was staring at the enchanted ceiling, unreadable as ever.

"You're thinking too loud, again. " Lynne muttered, breaking his thoughts.

He blinked. "I'm just worried about Hermione. She looked really upset earlier. I'm not sure she even left the bathroom yet."

"She is in the castle. She is safe. "

That should have been comforting but it really wasn't. In that exact moment, Professor Quirrell burst through the double doors of the Great Hall, pale and trembling.

"TROLL! T-troll! In the d-dungeons! Thought you ought to know!"

He fainted and panic followed. Students screamed, prefects tried to herd their houses, and Dumbledore shouted for order. Professors bolted from the hall. The Ravenclaws were being escorted to their tower, but Harry hung back.

He turned to Lynne. "She's not in the Great Hall. Hermione. She's alone, she was crying in the bathroom!" Lynne did not move, her eyes were sharp now. Cold. Calculating.

"Lynne." pleaded Harry.

"Then we must move. Quietly. Follow me. "

She took his hand and pulled him along, avoiding the crowds. Somehow she knew the best path to take, one that kept them out of sight of their prefects. Her steps were silent. Harry felt his heart hammering in his chest, but Lynne's grip was steady.

As they neared the corridor by the girls' lavatory, the stench hit them first. The troll was massive, gray, misshapen, with a club nearly as large as the hallway itself. It lumbered forward, ducking to enter the girl's bathroom. For a second they both held their breaths until a scream echoed from behind the bathroom door.

Harry moved, but Lynne was faster, in a blur, the door exploded open with a flick of her hand and she entered as well. Harry quickly followed behind her. Hermione was cornered, clutching a broken sink pipe looking terrified.

"Get down! " Lynne ordered. Her broken voice was steel.

Hermione dropped. The troll turned, bellowed, curious at the new broken sound of Lynne's voice. His club hit a few stalls as he turned, sending shards and splinters all over.

After a few seconds, the troll decided he didn't like blondes much and he attacked. Lynne stepped forward just as it swung. The club came crashing down. She raised her left arm in defense and the metal limb met the wood with a sickening crack. Dust exploded from the impact, and the floor trembled but Lynne didn't move an inch. Her arm, however, had fractured with a loud crack.

Harry gasped as Lynne moved with precision. Her wand was already in her hand as she ducked under the troll's legs.

"Harry! Distract it! "

Startled, Harry waved his wand wildly. His mind went into overdrive over which spells to use, what he could do to actually bother a troll. He briefly considered throwing something at him but his few months of training paid off as he remembered the most advanced spell he managed to pull off recently.

"L-Lumos Maxima!"

A flash of light exploded in the troll's face. It roared and staggered back, swinging blindly, his club too big to actually traverse much, wood hitting stone. Lynne moved just in time to avoid being stepped on by the now confused, angry and blind troll. It stopped for a second trying to regain his view and that was all Lynne needed. Stepping in front of it again she aimed carefully.

"Confringo! "

The explosion was deafening as the spell struck the troll right in his face. A blast of raw force and fire erupted, sending shards of stone and bone flying. The creature reeled, its death instant, its massive frame collapsing backward with a crash that shook the floor. Smoke curled from its still form as blood began to pool on the floor.

Silence fell between the pair while Hermione sobbed softly, still laying down on her knees. Harry ran to her, helping her up.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded mutely, then stared at Lynne, who was clutching her arm that lay limp now, unmoving. Cracks ran down the prosthetic like veins of lightning. A few of the metal shards were scattered through the floor.

"You're hurt," Hermione whispered.

"It's okay, it doesn't hurt. I just hope it will mend. "

Footsteps echoed. Snape, McGonagall, and Quirrell arrived, wands raised. Their eyes took in the fallen troll, the shattered floor, and the three first years.

"What is the meaning of this?!" McGonagall shrieked.

Hermione stepped forward shaking. "It's my fault, Professor. I was upset and came here alone. Harry and Lynne came to find me. They saved me."

Snape narrowed his eyes. His gaze lingered on Lynne longer than necessary. Quirrell looked pale. Paler than usual.

McGonagall sighed. "Miss Volant you are hurt… Severus, please take her to the hospital Wing. Five points from Gryffindor for wandering off. But... ten points each to Mr. Potter and Miss Volant, for sheer dumb luck."

"Take care of this Quirinus, please." she continued.

"R-right. W-what a m-mess." he commented back.

As they were about to be escorted back, Harry glanced at Lynne.

"Thank you, I didn't want you to get hurt."

She didn't answer. But in his pocket, the watch clicked.

Someone set this up, a troll is too dumb to enter on his own. We need to be careful.

As he watched her being led by professor Snape he noticed he was limping, clearly he had been hurt as well. He felt a growing sense of anxiety and dread.

Harry couldn't sleep that night and neither did Hermione.

​

---

She sat curled up in her bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. The image of Lynne standing between her and the troll was burned into her memory.

She had risked her life. For her. She remembered the sound of that metal arm shattering under the troll's club. The way Lynne didn't even flinch. No scream, no fear. But that spell…

That wasn't something they were supposed to know. It wasn't a first-year spell, she had read ahead up to third-year and it was still not there. It was dangerous, violent, and lethal. Lynne had cast it like it was second nature. What kind of person could destroy something so big, so alive, without blinking?

Hermione had thanked her, of course. Walking beside Harry in silence as they escorted her back to Gryffindor's Common Room, she told herself everything was fine. But the truth was, she didn't know how to feel.

Gratitude. Fear. Awe. She owed Lynne her life but she was terrified of her, and she was reminded of what happened a few weeks back. What if she had used the spell against her bullies? She shivered trying to put that thought back from where it came.

Deep in thought she came to realize she felt conflicted, for the first time since she came to Hogwarts she was sure that Harry and Lynne were her friends, they came to save her, despite the risk, and were already worried for her in the first place.

All those feelings of sadness, not fitting in, wanting to leave everything behind were slowly being replaced. And although she was pretty scared of Lynne, she would remember her heroes.

​

---

The hospital wing was quiet. Dumbledore stood just outside, going over his head about what just happened. He peeked into the room where the golden-haired first year was being treated by Madam Pomfrey.

She lay on the far bed, her prosthetic arm extended over her chest as the healer examined it. The limb had partially cracked along the seams, the embedded runes faintly flickering. There were some holes here and there, shards that had fallen off from the impact.

"This isn't standard prosthetic magic," Pomfrey muttered. "It almost feels biological… Doesn't it hurt?"

"No, I don't feel pain on them. They are quite numb. Will it heal? "

The matron blinked. "It's repairing itself. They must have some runes for how it's working but I've never seen anything like it. Maybe professor Babbling can help you later on with more information on them. But you, how do you feel, Miss Volant?"

"Functional. "

Pomfrey pursed her lips. "That's not what I asked."

Before she could press further, he made his presence known.

"If I may, Poppy," said Dumbledore as he entered. The matron sighed, nodded, and gave Lynne a sharp glance.

"She's under observation, but if you think a conversation won't shatter her remaining arm, I'll leave you to it."

When the doors closed, Dumbledore pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down. His expression was calm, thoughtful.

"Miss Volant," he began gently. "Tonight was... eventful."

Lynne said nothing.

"You acted bravely," he continued. "And with great precision. I daresay few students could have done the same."

Still, she was silent. He watched her for a long moment. Then his eyes, ancient and piercing, met hers.

"Will you not answer?" he said softly. "I just would like to understand you better."

Lynne felt the pressure before she saw it, an invisible tendril of magic trying to slide into her thoughts. She blinked slowly. And pushed it out. She had been trained on this but she was not expecting an intrusion on her mind from the headmaster of the school. With the same quiet ease she used to walk unnoticed through a corridor, she gently nudged him out. Dumbledore's brow lifted slightly.

"Curious," he murmured.

Still, she gave no reply.

"You knew how to cast the blasting curse." he said, changing tack. "That is not a spell taught in first-year lessons."

"I've learned it, by myself." Lynne replied simply.

He gave a small smile. "So I gathered. May I ask you something, Miss Volant?"

She inclined her head.

"You had incredible courage when facing the troll for your friends. But I can't help but wonder if you could have done something better. Miss Granger seemed quite distressed. Do you feel any remorse? For killing the troll the way you did?"

Her answer came without hesitation.

"No."

Dumbledore studied her face closely, but found nothing to read.

"Why not?"

"It was a threat. It endangered a student. I stopped it."

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands again.

"A student? I see."

There was no further condemnation. Only silence, and the weight of judgment that didn't need to be spoken aloud. She hadn't said friend, just a student. Odd, no one would risk their lives for just any student.

He stood. "We shall speak again, I'm sure."

When he was about to leave Lynne exhaled softly. Her injured arm flickered once, then began to glow faintly as the runes realigned. The pieces were already moving.

​

---

In the headmaster's office, tension ran high. Dumbledore sat at his desk, fingers steepled under his chin. McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick stood in a half-circle around him.

"A first-year using the blasting curse," Snape said coldly. "That alone is enough to raise questions."

"And Potter cast Lumos Maxima," McGonagall added. "That is advanced for a first-level charmwork."

"They should not be capable of it." Flitwick said with worry. "It takes more than knowledge, it takes control."

"She's been teaching him, I am sure. She's... unnatural. There is something more to her than what she appears." Snape murmured.

Dumbledore remained quiet, the flicker of firelight reflecting in his half-moon spectacles.

"They did save Miss Granger," he said slowly. "That won't be ignored."

He stood at last, moving to the window. "Miss Volant is an enigma. She was wary of me… or maybe it's with everyone, but during our conversation she mostly remained silent."

"Maybe she is in shock?" Flitwick argumented.

"I also asked Miss Granger for her version of events."

McGonagall folded her arms. "What did you learn, Albus?"

"Very little," Dumbledore replied. "But I did ask Miss Volant how she felt, but she said nothing. The only thing she answered troubled me a bit, I asked if she felt any remorse for the creature."

Silence followed.

"And?" Snape asked.

Dumbledore turned, his voice quiet. "She answered truthfully. She feels no regret for killing the troll."

Flitwick looked disturbed. "None at all?"

"None. She was calm and composed."

McGonagall's frown deepened. "She protected Miss Granger, I don't believe anyone would feel remorse for protecting a friend, especially if it was an out of control creature."

"Yes." Dumbledore said softly. "She protected her without hesitation, I'm uncertain if she considers Granger her friend but it was enough to act. On the other hand… She took a life without pause, without weight and that could mean something else, either she is trained, or experienced."

"Do you think she's dangerous? Should we be concerned for our students?" Flitwick asked.

"I think she's purposeful." Dumbledore replied. "And in that, there is danger."

He returned to his chair, hands folding again.

"We should watch her closely. And be wary." No one argued.

"Stay Severus, the rest of you can return to your duties."

With a few glances between them they sighed. As the small professor and Deputy Headmistress left the office Dumbledore turned to his trusted spy.

"Her intentions are not certain yet."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You tried Legilimency on her."

Dumbledore gave a soft nod. That was something else that worried him deeply as well. He couldn't gain access to any thought or feeling, even having caught her by surprise.

"She deflected me. Not aggressively, subtly. Deliberately. I do not think she is unaware of what she is."

Snape's expression tightened. "Then she is hiding something."

"What about the other matter? How is your leg?"

"Whoever set the troll loose, I'm sure it was a distraction to access the third floor corridor. But they fled before I arrived, the door was unlocked and the beast was agitated. We are now sure it can stop whoever tries to enter."

Dumbledore noticed he ignored his second question but that was good enough for now.

"Go treat your injury, let me know if you need anything."

"Headmaster." With a slow nod he made a limping exit.

​

---

Harry lay in bed that night, wide awake. The curtains were drawn around him, soft and heavy, muffling the occasional rustle from Anthony Goldstein across the room. His thoughts raced too fast for sleep.

He thought of Hermione's trembling hands. He thought of Lynne's eyes full of focus and determination, no hesitation in them at all. How often he'd dreamed of being powerful enough to make such a stand for himself, he thought of Dudley and his gang cornering him in alleyways. Of being shoved, taunted and not being able to fight back.

Lynne hadn't dreamed. She'd acted and she didn't flinch. He admired that, and he was glad he made friends with her. But more than anything, he understood it. Still, part of him wondered what else she might be capable of and why. He rolled onto his side, staring into the dark.

But even as questions swirled in his mind, one thing sat heavier than the rest: she had protected him. Protected Hermione. More than once. Lynne never doubted herself. She never let fear stop her. Harry didn't know why she was like that, but he knew he wanted to be like that too. Strong enough to protect his friends. Brave enough to stand up, no matter what.

He thought about the spells she had used. The books she was always reading. The way she made time for him even when she didn't speak much made him realize that maybe he couldn't catch up to her now, but he could try and he was sure she would help, even encourage him.

He made a silent promise to himself. He would learn everything he could. About magic. About the world, on how to be strong. Someday, Lynne might need someone to protect her too and he wanted to be ready. But a small, twisting feeling tugged at his chest. She had gotten hurt. Because of him. He asked her to come with him to find Hermione. He wasn't strong or quick enough to help her in time. She had to yell at him first before he reacted.

She never complained. Never blamed him and even praised him for distracting it so quickly. But that didn't make it sit any easier in his stomach. He clenched the blankets tightly in his fists. He wouldn't let that happen again.​

 

[Lucernello]

Chapter 4 - Warbot

The morning of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match arrived with crisp wind and silver mist. Most of the school was buzzing with excitement over breakfast, but Harry sat across from Lynne at the far end of the Ravenclaw table, their plates half-full and untouched.

"You're not going to the match?"

Padma asked, passing them both on her way out.

"Maybe later," Harry answered vaguely.

Lynne said nothing. They had agreed to train together, and just as Harry thought, she was on board with helping him get stronger, he didn't mention strong like her but he was sure she understood.

Lynne led him to a clearing on the edge of the school grounds, near the greenhouses, where the castle was out of view but the lake shimmered faintly in the distance. They traded a few spells at first mostly dodging and dueling.

She then showed him a basic shielding charm, Protego. The way it was supposed to form a blueish-silver dome around the caster. It could block physical and magic attacks.

"Keep your feet wider. Center your intent. You can't cast anything properly if you don't have a clear picture and will."

Lynne said that having a correct stance centered the spell and stabilized it. Harry tried again. The charm fizzled.

"The wand is only part of the spell. Everything else is based on intent, let it out from here."

She pointed to his chest. He nodded, trying again. This time, the shield shimmered faintly, more a pulse than a barrier. She gave a tiny nod.

"Better."

He grinned. "Thanks."

"Let's try it, shall we? A simple stinging jinx for now, what do you say?"

Harry nodded nervously. He got into the correct stance and faced her. Her wand was already drawn and aimed at him.

"Alright, 1, 2, 3."

She fired the stinging hex and although he tried his best, his shield didn't work. A white light smashed against his shoulder and pain settled in as he was pushed back.

"Well… protego is a difficult spell after all, let's try again."

A few hours later he had tons of red marks all over his body, having failed to even block a single one of them. He didn't know what was missing yet or why it was not working out for him but Lynne said that he would eventually get it.

Frustrated with himself he wanted to keep going despite the pain, he wanted to at least get it right once. Lynne only looked at the sun and checked the hour. Her calculating and cold look again plastered on her face.

"Let's return for now, I want to research something for a bit tonight."

Harry wanted to complain but they had been at it for quite some time, he was sure the Quidditch match was over already so they could probably escape the chaos of it. He would have to practice more on his own.

"I have a healing salve in my trunk, let's go get it for the swollen hits."

He sighed in response.​

---

That night, the castle rested in uneasy silence. The echoes of cheering students had long faded. Even Peeves was quiet, perhaps having grown tired of harassing students, or boredom.

Sir Nicholas drifted lazily through the lower halls, humming an old funeral march and admiring the way the moonlight spilled through the high windows. It was a peaceful night. Most of the portraits dozed in their frames, and the students were tucked behind their house doors.

Being a ghost was not like being dead, not entirely. There was no breath, no warmth, no heartbeat, but there was memory. Sometimes too much of it that forgetting some things was actually healthier.

The world came to him muffled and cold, like he stood forever just outside a window he could never open. He drifted through walls and people alike, but neither gave way with welcome. The stone didn't flinch. The living didn't notice. He moved like a sigh no one remembered exhaling.

He could speak. He could listen. He could remember what it felt like to feel. But he could not change. He could not taste the feasts he watched. Could not rest. Could not sleep. Time passed, and yet it didn't, because ghosts did not dream. He was not part of the living world. And yet, cruelly, he was not quite free of it. He was… unfinished.

Unfinished, like the stroke that had nearly severed his head all those centuries ago. A botched execution, a misjudged blade, and now the source of eternal humiliation.

"Nearly" Headless. Not enough to be whole. Not enough to be accepted.

The Headless Hunt had refused him again last week. Their owl arrived at breakfast, how considerate. He didn't read it, but he knew the wording by heart. "Too much neck, not enough drama." Or some variation.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, proud in life, proper in death, was once again too neat to ride with the beheaded fools who thought themselves kings of the afterlife. He had not died with dignity and he was not remembered with honor. So now, he drifted.

Through halls that never changed. Through generations of students who sometimes passed right through him. Through silent corners where strange girls vanished behind tapestries at night, and left behind questions no one else seemed to ask.

There were things happening at Hogwarts. Things that didn't belong to the living world, or the dead one either and Sir Nicholas, who could not sleep, who could not rest, was starting to wonder if watching was all he had left.

He saw her again that night. A blonde girl wearing Ravenclaw robes. Gliding through the corridor below. No lantern moving through the darkness of the castle without making a sound. Not even the soft pad of footsteps on stone.

He recognized her vaguely, miss Volant. The quiet one. The one with the strange metal arms. She didn't speak much but she was always watching. Always listening. He hovered, curious, and floated after her. She passed by the statue of Devlin the Daring without hesitation and approached a faded tapestry few students even noticed. Her fingers touched the stone, and a panel slid open. Sir Nicholas blinked.

That passage hadn't been used since before his death. She didn't pause. She disappeared into the black tunnel, lit only for a second by the runes faintly glowing on her hands.

Sir Nicholas lingered there in the air, unsettled.

"Strange girl," he whispered to no one. "Very strange indeed."

He wondered if he should report this, Dumbledore had asked all ghosts to patrol certain areas but he wasn't doing that at the moment, and they weren't in the forbidden zones of the Castle.

In the end, he chose to ignore it, how bad could a first-year do after all? He was on his break as well. Humming back he drifted off without a second glance.​

---

The next morning, the Daily Prophet arrived in a flurry of wings and feathers. A large gray owl dropped a bundle directly into the middle of the Ravenclaw table. Terry Boot reached for it then froze.

"Blimey. Look at this."

Students leaned in. A bold headline took up nearly half the front page:

"Avery Found Dead in Knockturn Alley, Retired Auror Suspected."

Harry leaned closer, reading aloud.

"'Former Death Eater Evan Avery was discovered dead early this morning behind Talon's Rest. Sources claim the scene was untouched except for Avery's body, no signs of struggle, no witnesses. His wand was broken and placed atop his chest. His death was caused by a severing charm to the throat, delivered with surgical precision."

Hermione snatched the paper. "'The Auror Office has refused to comment, but an anonymous insider noted the execution mirrors methods used by Alastor Moody during the First Wizarding War. The only difference is a red butterfly painted on a nearby wall."

Whispers ran through the Great Hall like wildfire. Harry's fingers curled around the edge of the paper. His heart was still pounding. The article made it sound horrible, what kind of madman would do such a thing in times of peace. Harry thought about what it meant to do something like that. To plan it. To go through with it. To not even leave a trace. Was that what his parents had to go through when fighting against them?

He glanced sideways at Lynne. She, as usual, didn't react or blink even as she was hearing of the news, it seemed not much could spook her. She just took another sip from her glass. Harry said nothing and neither did Lynne.

In the background several students and even some professors were bickering about it. A murderer on the loose was not something to be calm but also it seemed most students just found this normal, as if the news of an assassination was not too uncommon.

Some students even acted excited as if this was just a murder mystery story that had no real impact on them at all, probably not associated with Death Eaters at all in the past or maybe just oblivious. There were some worried faces in Slytherin and Ravenclaw and perturbed faces all around at the gruesome aspect of it all.​

---

In the Ministry of Magic, Walden McNair crushed the Prophet in his gloved fist. The room was cold, deep beneath the main levels, where certain conversations could not be overheard. Iron lamps lined the stone walls, casting flickering shadows. A low table sat between them, its surface polished like obsidian. The air was heavy with unease.

"This is an outrage! That lunatic is still hunting us down like beasts in the street."

Across from him, Lucius Malfoy sat in a high-backed chair, calm and composed, but with a tightness in his mouth that betrayed unease. "If it is Moody, it's a liability we cannot ignore."

McNair slammed his hand on the table. "He should be in Azkaban."

Lucius's eyes narrowed slightly. "He has allies. And his reputation protects him. But these killings are becoming a pattern. If I can push a formal motion through the Wizengamot, perhaps we can get him detained under security suspicion."

"We need more than suspicion," McNair growled. "We need action."

"We need caution," Lucius replied. "And if these murders continue, public fear will do the work for us. Let them see Moody as a madman. Let them beg us to intervene. Avery is the first to be reported because he was found in Knockturn but we had 2 more missing, the same butterfly."

A junior official knocked and entered. "Sir? Auror Moody has been spotted leaving St. Mungo's, he was there all night. Claims he's been dealing with... flea bites."

Lucius raised an eyebrow and allowed a faint, disdainful smirk. "Charming."

McNair said nothing. His fists clenched tighter. He had seen what Moody did to Rosier. To Wilkes. He remembered the screams. He hadn't slept well since the war and now, all the memories were coming back.

"We will bring him in for questioning, if this isn't him then maybe we can at least lure the one behind this into a trap."

With the plan set in motion both gentlemen gave a small nod and parted ways, they had ears to whisper into agreeing with them.​

---

Meanwhile, in a crooked house that stood alone on a hill outside of Cardiff, hidden beneath layers of enchantments, curses, and more than a dozen tripwire charms, Alastor Moody stirred his tea with a trembling hand.

The sitting room was filled with old magical detectors, spinning spheres, rune-carved mirrors, softly humming artifacts. Most were cracked or flickering, but Moody didn't trust any one of them completely. A loaded crossbow leaned by the fireplace. His wand lay within easy reach, just next to a chipped tea cup.

His magical eye spun in lazy, erratic circles, scanning everything. Even the shadows.

He glanced at the Daily Prophet spread across his table, weighted at the corners by silver sickles.

"Avery," he muttered. "Didn't think he'd die in bed, but I wasn't expecting this."

His scarred face cracked into a smile.

"Clean work. Precise. No witnesses."

He sipped his tea.

"Whoever you are, you've got style."

He tapped his cup with one long, gnarled finger.

"Finally. Someone's doing it right."

A knock at his door made half the room light up in alarms. Moody didn't flinch. He waved them silent.

"I should commend them," he muttered with a grin. "If they don't kill me first."​

---

Beyond the polished glow of Diagon, where lanterns flickered warm against polished glass, Knockturn simmered in a half-life of smoke, damp stone, and whispers. The air was colder here, not in temperature, but in trust. The cobblestones were uneven and dark with things that hadn't washed away in years. Broken signs dangled from rusted hooks, and doors opened only enough for coins and paranoia to pass through.

The rain had come earlier. It hadn't cleaned the alley, just made the stench rise. Something metallic, something burnt, something sweet.

Borgin & Burkes loomed at the far end like a dead tooth, its windows too dark to be glass, too old to reflect. The shadows that clung to its corners didn't drift, they hung like secrets, still and heavy.

No children wandered here. No Ministry robes flashed past. Only those who had something to hide or business to finish.

The street outside the old bookshop was quiet. He had come to sell artifacts that held no value to him anymore. Some were stolen. Since the end of the war, living was getting hard for him.

He allowed himself a moment to wonder what could have been, if only the Dark Lord had triumphed. Musing, he didn't hear her. Travers was halfway through thinking on apparating when a shadow stepped behind him. No words, no warning.

The binding curse took hold of his body, a glint of metal flickered at the edge of his vision, arms attached to a small girl cloaked in black. She moved in front of him then swung her right arm in an arc, wand lit up. He felt his throat burn. A wet sound, then silence. He collapsed, eyes wide, his final breath fluttering into nothing but choking sounds.

She knelt beside the body, snapped his wand and placed it gently on his chest, then reached into her coat. A red butterfly cut from thin enchanted paper, impossibly detailed, fluttered in her palm for a moment before settling on his bloodstained collarbone.

With a sharp crack, she was gone.

The butterfly remained.​

---

SECOND MURDER IN KNOCKTURN – "CRIMSON WING" STRIKES AGAIN?

By Cassandra Bell, Senior Magical Correspondent

The body of former Death Eater Travers was discovered late last night outside an abandoned bookshop on the eastern edge of Knockturn Alley. Ministry officials have confirmed he was killed by a precise throat wound, his wand broken and placed on his chest in a manner identical to last week's murder of Evan Avery.

A red butterfly made of conjured parchment and soaked through with blood was found resting on the victim's robes. Witnesses say no one saw the attack, nor heard a spell cast.

The killings bear a disturbing resemblance to the so-called "Moody-style" executions from the last war, leading some to speculate that the infamous Auror may have trained a successor.

"This is a serial killer in the making." said former Obliviator Carla McBride. "It's not vengeance. They are sending a message. The red butterfly is the signature. They want us to know it's them."

Some have already begun referring to the unknown killer as The Crimson Wing. The Ministry has declined to comment on the growing theory that Alastor Moody may be connected to the events.



Harry folded the paper in half and pushed it aside.

"That's the second one this month," he said under his breath.

"Second?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. One last week too, Avery. They said he was found in knockturn as well. Same style."

"You know… when I first learnt that I was joining a magical world I thought it would be less dangerous than this." said Hermione. She looked down the table. Lynne was gone.

"Where did she go?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't even noticed her leave. He wondered where she was disappearing into, for a brief second he thought of using the pocket watch and asking her about it but he didn't want to bother her if she was busy. He would have to find her later on.​

---

The Ravenclaw common room was hushed beneath the weight of the first snowfall. November was ending now and winter was settling in, the humid weather making one feel the cold in the bones.

Outside the high windows, the towers of Hogwarts vanished into soft white. Inside, the fire cracked steadily, but it brought no warmth to Virgil. He sat slouched in a corner armchair, arms folded tight around himself, eyes fixed on the dancing flames like they might consume him. Maybe then, his memories would go away with him, but so far, they never did.

The second death had been reported that morning. First Avery, now Travers. Two former death eaters and also once friends of his now deceased family. The same method of assassination, throat cut and wand broken. Neatly placed on their chest, just like before.

Just like his parents.

Virgil had been five when his world collapsed, his family gone. The world had been large and warm, full of laughter and in a blink of an eye, it was all red. He could still remember it vividly, he had walked into the winter garden barefoot, his mother's slippers by the garden door. Her body, lying on the floor, neck opened like a torn ribbon. Her wand broken down in two pieces.

His vision was blurred by tears and his sobs were the only thing breaking the eerie silence. His father was down the hall, crumpled like a puppet with no strings, his elegant wand he always carried in the same state on his chest. His robes were scorched and his eyes stared past Virgil in panic, as if frozen while staring at a dementor.

His uncle arrived just in time to grab him while he was having a panic attack. Screaming and crying for them to wake up, to come back, for his father to heal his wound like he always did, for her mother to give him a hug and tell him everything was fine.

He was told he was lucky to survive, that his parents were fighting on the right side of the war, that the auror who had caused their death would eventually die by his uncle's hands, but all he wanted was to have them back. The Prophet reported it as a casualty of war, while the rest of the Wizarding world cheered for the ministry's approval of using the unforgivables on Death Eaters.

He never spoke of it again, he mourned them every day and he couldn't separate the grief from the shame that followed the end of the war. His uncle never had his revenge, and his parents were convicted of terrorism against the magical nation.

The Fowler family had followed Voldemort, believing in his cause, they had spent gold to fund his campaign, they had given their lives in the end, and it was all for nought. He had hated the war, it had taken everything from him and even now, the name Fowler was a weight that dragged behind him like a chain.

His first year at Hogwarts he had been watched like a creature in a tank, some were sympathetic while others wore smug faces. Even among Ravenclaws, he was at first ostracized, he had to work really hard to not feel so dreadfully alone. Some of the other former death eaters' sons and daughters had tried warming up to him but he wasn't one of them. Their cause had destroyed his family.

And now… someone was out there killing them again, he should have felt vindicated yet he didn't. He felt sick, more alone than ever as he couldn't share what he was feeling with anyone. Totally afraid that maybe the war had never ended at all, and that the ghosts of the past would never leave him.​

---

Gibbon had made a life out of not dying. No one would call it living, not really, but the rail yard offered shelter and he still had friends willing to lend him a helping hand. Sometimes a rust-eaten shipping container served as his den, layered with silencing charms and anti-muggle wards. If he had the luxury, he would add detection runes to feel safe.

He'd stolen most of them… actually almost everything he had now was stolen. There was sometimes a mattress, sometimes a bed, he didn't want to stay in one place after all. The ministry never gave up hope of finding him, he was sure of this.

His wand lay under the pillow, he had three cursed daggers inside a small bedside table as well. Two empty potion vials lay on the floor and one cracked mirror. Those were all of his possessions this time.

Well…he had fear as well, he always had fear. He didn't sleep much, he didn't enjoy small pleasures anymore, he missed drinking but not since he saw a man with one eye in every alleyway shadow. The crazy auror wanted him, and the old crowd had scattered, his friends gone into hiding like him or not able to have him home openly.

Recently, he had gone more paranoid, Avery was gone, Travers too. Word was, someone had started cleaning house, quietly and surgically. He heard rumors of two others, disappearing without a trace, a crimson butterfly in their place. It brought him back.

He kept to his rules, never go out before dusk, never stay in one place more then six weeks, never open the door without checking for possible enemies. His favorite spell now being Homenum Revelio. He was still alive, that meant he was right, he was sure he would outlive everyone else, and oh how close he came to be wrong about that.

It came like smoke, a fog that pierced the outer ward that blinked once, then collapsed like a punctured lung. Gibbon shot to his feet, wand drawn, chest pounding. He grabbed a vial of powdered pearl-root from the floor and threw it against the doorway. The glass exploded in a flash of light, blinding briefly but there was no response. No cry of pain or sound of struggle.

He heard no footsteps and no voice, but he was aware enough when he heard a slight muffled metal sound, that was all he needed to act. He managed to dodge the initial curse barely, prepared to block anything else. He saw her step through the smoke like it belonged to her.

A girl, no older than sixteen, wearing black that didn't shine in contrast with her gleaming arms, etched with faint, ancient runes. Her face was expressionless, her steps made no sound. He knew that look so he didn't bother to speak or threaten, he bolted straight away.

Another curse missed his spine by inches, ducking behind a falling carriage. She followed without hesitation, her wand flicked. Steel fingers carved a path through the dark, she was faster and better and he knew that he wouldn't survive if she reached him.

Gibbon shouted, blasting through the far wall with his favorite spell.

"BOMBARDA!"

The tunnel beyond hadn't been used in years and it had been sealed behind a wall at the yard to avoid accidents. He didn't look back, not when her spell singed his shoulder, not even when he heard her feet gaining, clearly now avoiding subtlety for speed. He managed to break through her wards and apparated. Blind, desperate and bleeding.

He reappeared in a forest clearing three counties away. Collapsed, sobbing but alive. The wound on his shoulder burned and he clutched his teeth in pain, but he was breathing. He would make it out alive, he was sure of it. He also had seen her, the girl with metal arms, he could warn the others while escaping far away from this country.

Once he healed himself as best he could, he apparated once more into one of the Alleyways in Knockturn, headed for the public post. He wrote every word he could remember, every detail and sent it by owl to the ones who would surely face her in the future. People who still remembered the war, people who understood what was at stake, who would prepare better than he could.

With confidence renewed, he made his escape once more.​

---

The small girl stood alone in the rail yard, wand still raised. She knelt, staring at the spot where he had just vanished. She wouldn't leave a butterfly this time, it wasn't a kill, it was just a mistake. She had underestimated her opponent and she was sure there would be consequences from this failed attempt.

The air still smelled like rust and dust. She waved her wand repairing the hole in the wall, leaving nothing but the faint shimmer of displaced magic and the blood trail he left behind. A thin, sharp breath left her lips in frustration and concern. Her first mistake. She knew his wounds were not enough to kill him, enough to mark him but that was not what she intended.

Her fingers brushed the edge of a boot print leading towards the broken wall. She would have to remember every detail she could to find him again. She closed her eyes and went over what she did wrong. She hadn't calculated his reach soon enough, or the trajectory of where he was going, the panic that would lead him to instantly bolt away. She thought he would fight her instead.

She should have adjusted for Apparition under duress, she couldn't possibly know where he had jumped now, she should have cut deeper, should have aimed higher. She had failed.

In her coat, the butterfly remained unreleased. She did not place it, there was no message in failure. She slipped it back into the folded seam of her collar, fingers still vibrating with magic, her clothes stained with dirt. With a new objective in mind, she disappeared in a loud crack back to Hogsmead.

Moving under a disillusionment charm she passed through the stone walls like a ghost, her movements without sound, stepping into Hogwarts once more. Not even the staircases noticed her. She moved back all the way to her dormitory, inside everyone was sleeping.

She opened her trunk quietly and stepped inside, the extension charm making it possible to have her own room. She sat on her desk, her coat laid across the back of the chair, the lining still damp.

She reached for her journal, a small book with blank pages, just like the one she had gifted Harry. She wrote nothing for several minutes, her mind going over her mission, pen hovering.

Then finally:

Subject: Gibbon. Outcome: failed. Status: Alive.
Conclusion: Objective risk now exceeds containment parameters, primary mission compromised if detained.
Secondary mission deprioritized, master.
Target discretion advised
No further operations until reassurance.
Recalibration not necessary.

Her words disappeared as soon as she finished writing. A message to his guardian. She closed the book and went back to the common room. In the morning she would sit beside Harry at breakfast as if nothing had happened, she would walk the halls like every other student, but she would not act again. Not until she was better prepared.

Next time there may not be a second chance, if she failed, there would be no one left to protect him.​

---

The fire in the hearth burned low, casting long shadows across the study walls of Malfoy Manor. The windows were shuttered, the door warded ten times over. Only trusted men sat in the room, the atmosphere was gloomy and you could cut the tension with a butter knife.

Lucius Malfoy stood at the mantle, hands behind his back, eyes on the flames as if they might burn the answers he needed into the stone.

"She matches the description exactly." he said at last. "Metal arms, young, perfect posture and silent."

McNair scoffed. "A child."

"Gibbon disagrees." Lucius replied coolly. "And although paranoid, he is not one to lie."

The man in question wasn't present, but his words lay open on the table in a cracked, hastily folded letter, scrawled with ink blotches and splattered with something that might have been blood. The letter explained in detail how she had tried to murder him, how quick she was, her appearance, he had been meticulous.

Yaxley tapped the letter with one thick finger. "How do we know he isn't just rambling? Gibbon was always unstable."

"Draco described her in one of his letters home, weeks ago." Lucius said. His son didn't know who she was, he just thought she was odd, cold, sharp and smart.

"He had mentioned the arms and she is at the top in her year. I didn't think anything of it until now. She is at Hogwarts." He finished solemnly.

"If she has anything to do with that crazy bitch Bellatrix she might have trained that monstrosity herself somehow!" McNair cursed under his breath. "She might be hunting us for betraying our lord!"

Another man, face obscured by the shadows in the corner, spoke for the first time. "Why now? After all these years?"

Everyone gave it a thought but the problem was, no one knew. Lucius gave a thin smile.

"Regardless of her reasons, we got comfortable." No one argued.

"I say we send someone." Nott Sr. said. "End her… it."

Lucius' expression didn't change. "On school grounds? With Dumbledore watching? Not the best strategy."

"We can't just do nothing!"

"I'm not suggesting that." Lucius answered. He tapped the letter. "I'm suggesting we make her someone else's problem."

"How?"

Lucius walked slowly towards the table, pulling a chair for himself as if this were a leisurely game of chess. "She is strong, yes, dangerous. But she is inexperienced if she can't catch Gibbon. She is close to Harry Potter if my son is right. Very close. She might be biding her time with him if she was indeed in contact with Bellatrix somehow."

"If she were to… lash out, lose control, she would frighten the wrong crowd, publicly maybe, it would be reason enough to arrange her removal with the board. When she is out of Hogwarts we can handle her."

Yaxley leaned forward. "You want to bait her somehow."

"Yes, we use her to remove the boy-who-lived as well. It is the perfect plan."

A silence fell again.

Then one voice muttered. "But to be able to do that in Hogwarts, you would need to be there."

"Do I need to remind you gentlemen that we have people inside of Hogwarts already?"

"My wife wants our son pulled from Hogwarts, says we can write to Drumstrang. This is very dangerous, Lucius. You have seen the corpses she left behind already."

"She is not the only one." Another muttered. "Half the house is talking about it."

McNair slammed a first on the table. "We survived the Dark Lord only to be picked off by a child."

Lucius met his gaze. "That child may not be acting alone, someone trained her and if we are not careful, she'll finish what she started. We need to use what we can."

"Would you use your own son for this, Lucius?" snapped Yaxley standing up.

Lucius was almost ready to brandish his wand and curse the man when his wife stood abruptly and glared at Corban. This paused the angry man in his tracks and he sat down again.

The blonde calmed himself down and breathed out. "We need time and subtlety, if she's provoked, she will show her true face. We just need to make sure none of ours is in real danger."

Lucius smiled without warmth. "And then, even Dumbledore will have no choice."​

---

The Slytherin common room was quieter these days. It was not silent by any means, but the usual gloating, sneering confidence had faded. Even Crabbe and Goyle had stopped laughing quite so loudly.

Draco pretended everything was fine, he had more important things to think about, like winning the House Cup, getting top marks in Potions, making his father's name proud. He was especially worried about mudbloods showing more talent. He was fine with Volant being top of his year, she was a pureblood witch after all, and Ravenclaws were usually ahead academically.

She was an anomaly, something unusual, he should be able to best everyone else, but that was not how it turned out at all. Slytherin was not able to catch up with Ravenclaw at all, it was as if everyone in their house was a genius. The blonde girl rarely spoke and she was still gaining points as if she was stealing candy from a baby, he was sure the rest of her housemates were being tutored by her, there was no other explanation in his head.

He would ask her about it if only she wouldn't have unnerved him so much. She never laughed, and when she looked at someone, it felt like she was measuring them, not as a person, but as a problem to solve. Because she was so unapproachable he began taunting her, mocking her family, it's what he knew what to do when things didn't go his way. A Malfoy would never back down.

But that didn't give him any results either, she would just not take the bait and show no emotions.

He cleared his head, trying to avoid thinking too much about it. He needed to focus to be able to come home for Christmas with good news to his father. He didn't feel particularly proud of complaining to him all the time.

Draco ascended the stairs to the Great Hall ready to have breakfast and start his day with renewed purpose. As he sat down, owls started flying in, it was post day and sure enough he had a letter from home.

The green-edged parchment folded sharply, written in elegant black ink with the Malfoy Crest printed proudly. The letter said many things, updates about Ministry issues, pureblood circle gossip, tips for impressing Professor Snape and reminders about keeping the Malfoy name out of trouble. But near the end a line stood out bolded and with clear intent of making it the last word.

Avoid contact with Volant AT ALL COSTS.
Stay polite, distant, do not ask questions. Stay safe.

Draco read it three times. It was a clear warning and he could feel all of his father's seriousness on it.

That evening, as he passed Volant near the dungeon stairs as she was going to Potions class, he didn't scoff or mutter anything. He didn't look at her metal arms or make a joke under his breath, he just walked past her. Quietly and quickly.

She gave no signs of even stopping to glance at him but as he was moving away, he felt the her cold stare on his back.​

---

It all started small, a pause in the corridor when she walked past, a conversation that died mid-sentence as soon as she stepped into earshot. Students whispering just a little too loud, just enough to be heard.

Harry noticed it before breakfast one morning, even though it was December and some students were cheering for the festivals that were fast approaching, Slytherin older students were not showing up at the Great Hall. Whenever he was walking to classes or going to the library with Lynne they would disappear from sight.

One day, when they passed a group of sixth years by the courtyard stairs, they turned sharply, and avoided them specifically. The rumor mill was not catching up to anything major recently, so he was confused as to what happened.

Until Harry caught a single word coming from another group one time. "Volant." That group shifted course instantly, avoiding her like she was contagious. He glanced at Lynne but she didn't slow down her pace, didn't look back, her eyes straight ahead, unchanged.

What is going on Lynne?

He saw a flicker of tension in her jaw, the way her fingers flexed just once at her side before going still again.

I cannot say I'm sure I know. She answered in his head.

They kept walking, Harry's mind now far away from the potions class they were heading to. He managed to complete his work without making a mess or causing professor Snape to berate him. After classes they ran into Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini, but before they could even interact they moved away, this time not even bothering to say anything to Lynne. If he was being honest, a reserved Draco was even more unnerving.

The library was quieter than usual, most students were already drifting into holiday mode, their essays half-finished, their minds full of snowball fights and hot chocolate. But Harry and Harmione were still at their corner table, parchment spread between stacks of transfiguration books. Lynne by their side said nothing while she watched them work. She had already finished what they were doing at that moment.

Hermione scribbled furiously, lips moving as she quoted from memory. Harry, beside her, was frowning at his notes like they were written in Mermish.

"You need to reference Gamp's fifth Law." she said without looking up.

"I don't remember the first four to be honest." Harry muttered.

Lynne took a second to look for the book on her satchel. She handed him the correct book which he took gratefully.

"Be right back, I'm going to the loo."

Gracefully she left quickly leaving behind her things neatly organized. After a few minutes Harry turned to face Hermione with worry.

"Have you seen how Slytherin's people are acting around Lynne?" he asked.

Hermione considered it for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… older students, they are avoiding her like they are afraid of her, as if she has the plague or something."

Hermione frowned and tapped her quill against her lip, thinking.

"Maybe it's after what happened with those Ravenclaw boys."

"They deserved it." Harry replied instinctively, before he could stop himself.

Hermione froze, her lips pursed. Harry knew that she didn't approve of the way Lynne had handled it, he felt she was still a bit naive to how bullies work, sometimes other people only understood violence and nothing else would get into their thick skulls. After a pause, Hermione composed herself.

"It doesn't matter if they did, it wouldn't surprise me if rumors were spreading."

Before Harry could answer, a soft click of footsteps made them look up. Lynne had come back, silent as usual. She picked up her book and a loose sheet of notes and sat down without a word, pulling her chair in smoothly, mechanical fingers adjusting her quill with practiced ease.

She nodded at them and Harry hesitated, then grinned.

"Any chance you know how to turn a quill into something useful? Writing with a pen would be way better."

"I don't know what a pen is but…"

She glanced at him, then at the quill in his hand. With a smirk and a slight flick of her wrist her wand was pulled upwards from out of nowhere. Following a quiet incantation the feather shimmered, folding and shrinking until it became a tiny paper cat, almost like an origami, curling on top of his ink pot as if it was a comfortable bed.

Hermione and Harry gasped.

"It will sadly not write things for you." she said giggling.

"That's not in any of the standard texts, what's the incantation?" Said Hermione.

Of course she was focused on the spell and learning, thought Harry.

Lynne gave a small shrug. "It's a transfiguration anchored to visual memory. Intent based."

Harry nudged the cat with his finger. "Looks pretty hard to me."

She tilted her head, then reached for Hermione's quill.

"Hey, wait, I need-" Hermione started but stopped as Lynne again spelled the object.

This time, the feather turned into a paper fox, perfectly curled with its tail wrapped around its paws. The paper shimmered in the candlelight.

Hermione stared. "Okay… I need you to teach me that, immediately."

Lynne laughed, barely, but it was there. Thinking how rare those were, Harry decided to forget about the odd behaviour of the Slytherins for now.

The three of them worked late, books spread across the table like a makeshift fortress. Occasionally, Lynne would correct Harry's essays without saying a word, or help Hermione with her wand grip with subtle guidance. They didn't talk about the whispers or the stares, for the moment it didn't matter.

Hermione laughed once when her fox charm tripped over Harry's cat, an unguarded and genuine laugh that made the moment one of Harry's best memories. Harry grinned, proud of his little paper monstrosity. Even Lynne let herself lean back in her chair, a faint curve at the corner of her lips.

The lamps in the library burned low, snow tapped gently against the high windows and for a while, it felt like they were just three students doing homework as if nothing outside that table could touch them.

Lynne didn't say much as they packed up, but when Harry brushed her shoulder on the way out, and Hermione looped her scarf and smiled back at them both, she paused.

I will protect you both. He heard her voice clear in his mind as the pocket watch hummed.

Harry didn't know why she had such determination or why she was thinking about that specifically, maybe the troll had affected her more than what she let on.

I will protect you too!

He answered while she catched up to them. She smiled at him and shook her head.​

 

[Lucernello]

I hope you are enjoying the story so far.

-Luce

---

Chapter 5 - Glitch

Snow had fallen steadily for days, softening the grounds in thick white drifts that reached the knees of passing house-elves. The air smelled of pine and cinnamon, and the usual hum of spell work in the halls had given way to the quieter magic of warmth, charmed scarves, pockets full of sugared nuts, and candles that never flickered out.

Hogwarts celebrated Christmas in its own strange, ancient way. The suits of armor sang carols, badly but they tried their best, echoing off the high arches of the staircases. The portraits wore sprigs of holly and mulled over their favorite holiday memories aloud to anyone who passed. And everywhere, there was light: soft, enchanted, never too bright, glowing like it had been there waiting all year for this season.

The Great Hall had been dressed in its finest silks. Twelve towering Christmas trees lined the walls, each decorated in its own theme, one with fluttering faerie lights, one with enchanted snowflakes that never melted, another with golden candles and miniature broomsticks that circled the topmost branches. The ceiling had been bewitched to show soft snowfall, drifting gently downward but never reaching the floor.

Harry had never seen anything like it. He stood for a long time just staring at the great tree in the middle of the great hall, green and gold filled with shimmering glass ornaments that floated an inch above the branches.

There had been Christmases at the Dursleys, technically. Plastic trees dragged from the attic. Cold ham and fake cheer. An extra pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks wrapped in newspaper. He had been trapped in the small closet under the stairs most of the time.

But he had never even heard of something like this. Nothing that made the air feel warm even when the stone floors were freezing. Nothing that made him feel like he was allowed to enjoy it. This Christmas was the first that felt like his, and he was even spending it with Lynne who had decided to stay with him for the holidays. He try asking if her guardian would miss her but she had dismissed him about it.

The day before the holiday, Hermione had said goodbye at the gates, bundled in layers and already holding a stack of books for the train ride.

"You'll be fine without me," she told Harry, adjusting his scarf like a mother hen. "Don't forget to revise Transfiguration. And please, for the love of god, don't let Lynne talk you into being a punch bag for spells again."

"Which god?" asked Lynne confused.

Harry had laughed. She had watched the exchange from a few paces behind, silent as usual, but when Hermione pulled her into a quick hug, she didn't pull away.

"Try not to hex anyone." Hermione added with a small smile.

"I will consider it." Lynne replied, deadpan.

On Christmas morning, the Ravenclaw common room was still and the blue-sky decorations were shining more than usual. The windows were glazed with frost, and the enchanted fire cast slow-moving shadows across the floor. Most students had gone home, leaving the space emptier than usual. It was peaceful, in a way Harry found comforting.

A few gifts had appeared overnight at the foot of one of the armchairs by the fire. Hagrid had given him a box of treats for Hedwig. Hermione had given him a book about transfiguration theory. And a few things from his other housemates he barely knew, candy mostly, he felt bad that he didn't send them similar gifts.

He had opened almost everything, saving one small and one big package that he knew at first glance would be interesting for last.

The smaller one was wrapped neatly in dark grey paper, tied with a single blue string. A stag crest pin hooked into the wrapping. A small tag dangled from the gift and he recognized Lynne's handwriting instantly.

Lynne sat by the window, as always. Dressed and reading, one knee tucked up against her chest. Her metal fingers turned the page with delicate precision. She hadn't said a word.

Harry picked up the package and opened it carefully. Inside was a leather holster, slim, black, clearly handmade. It was stitched along the sides with rune-embossed thread, he blinked, mouth half-open.

"This is…"

"Fitted to your wand." Lynne said without looking up. "Won't drop it, even if you fall. Enchanted for quick draw. It's designed to be worn against the forearm, under your sleeve."

He turned it over in his hands. Underneath the flap he recognized one of the runes burned into the leather: Protection.

"I... didn't get you anything," he admitted guiltily.

"You don't need to get me anything." she said. "Being your friend is enough."

Harry smiled, quiet and honest. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Lynne nodded once. Then turned a page in her book. He slid the holster onto his arm. It truly did fit perfectly. He asked her to approach him by the fire and he gave her a hug. For a little while, they sat in silence as the fire crackled beside them. It was the warmest Christmas he had ever had. It felt like something real at last.

Finally he remembered the big package that was left and opened it. He leaned over and picked it up. It was silvery, smooth to the touch, and lighter than air. When he held it up, it fluttered in his hands like mist, then slipped through his fingers almost invisibly.

Folded within it was a small piece of parchment.

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

Harry read it trying to find a name or a clue as to who sent it but there was nothing more.

His heart thudded quietly in his chest. Something about the handwriting felt... old. The parchment felt personal, like it had waited years just to reach him. He draped the cloak over his shoulders and with a thrill that almost made him laugh, saw his body vanish beneath it.

A real invisibility cloak, his first real link to his father. Something entirely his.

"That is amazing." said Lynne.

"It was my father's, apparently." He smiled fondly.

"This is quite helpful, keep it safe and with you Harry." she sighed then looked at him with frustration.

"Should have bought you a pouch with an extension charm, that way you could easily carry it around without anyone noticing."

"Cannot I get them myself?"

"You could, yes… you have to order through your owl probably, but it should be possible. I will help you with that later then." she said, nodding to herself.

After testing it a bit in the common room, Harry and Lynne left it in his trunk and went down to the Great Hall for meals.
​

---

The halls were quiet that evening, lit only by the occasional enchanted torch and the twinkling fairy lights strung along the walls for the holidays. The few students who had stayed behind were likely asleep or maybe enjoying the fireplaces and pudding in the common rooms.

He pulled the cloak from his trunk, slipped it over his shoulders and grinned at the way it shimmered and disappeared. Moving carefully and quietly, he slipped out into the corridor.

He didn't really have a destination, just curiosity. The castle felt different at night, it gave a strange feeling of old and mysterious. More secretive, he felt like he was in an adventure wondering about.

He was rounding the corner toward the long second-floor corridor when he stopped short, his foot catching slightly on the stone. Someone was already there.

Lynne.

She stood motionless near an old suit of armor, one hand braced on the wall, metal fingers reflecting the torchling. Her other arm was holding her wand close to her chest, she didn't cast anything but she was opening and closing her mouth, almost like she was chanting.

Harry froze when she stopped all of a sudden. He briefly wondered if she had heard him somehow but before he could move, she turned to her side, looking directly at the spot where he stood.

"I know you are there, Harry." Her voice was quiet.

Harry flinched, heart racing as if discovered by a professor or prefect. Slowly he pulled off the cloak from his head.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." he whispered.

"You didn't, but if you want to sneak on someone, you should muffle your steps and your breathing was too loud as well."

Her eyes flicked to the cloak. "It is a quite powerful item, the one you have. I couldn't detect your magic at all."

Harry approached her slowly. "How do you detect someone's magic?"

"It's not something I can explain, I wish my mentor could teach you."

"What are you doing here by the way?"

"There is something behind this wall, I just don't know what or which room leads there."

Harry gave a soft look at the wall, there was no door there.

"So you are here out of curiosity? No prefect caught you yet?"

"Well most prefects have gone home, some professors do patrol but I usually can sense them before they are near."

They stood together in silence for a moment before she finally motioned him to walk with her. They explore the castle a bit before heading back to the common room, his cloak on his shoulders just in case.

Later that night Harry couldn't sleep, he felt weird, that this amount of good was not something he deserved and that somehow it would come back to bite him, or that he would wake up from a dream.

He came around the same corridor, his curiosity got the better of him. He now saw that there was indeed a door where the wall was and it was already slightly ajar. He approached carefully.

The room was cold and covered in dust. A tall mirror stood in the corner of the room, but nothing else. Its frame was golden and gilded with inscriptions. He saw no one inside so he didn't know why the door was unlocked. Approaching cautiously to the mirror, Harry saw that it was not only reflecting, something was moving inside of it.

Curiosity getting the better of him and feeling a tug towards it, he stepped in front of it only to be welcomed by the sight of two adults, maybe a couple holding hands appearing behind his reflection. He turned but found no one behind him. He could see them now, neatly, and he could recognize himself in some of their features. They smiled at him warmly and his heart ached.

"Mum?" he asked looking at the woman that in turn replied with a bigger smile and a nod.

Harry felt calm and warm, he couldn't believe his eyes, seeing his parents for the first time.

"Dad?" and the man nodded as well, both smiling at him proudly.

He didn't know what to say, but he also didn't want to leave them, he placed a hand in the mirror wanting to go through it, to wherever they were and felt the cold of the glass. His mum looked concerned for a moment but slowly placed a hand on his shoulder in the mirror and smiled again.

Harry stood there, he didn't know for how long, his parents communicating to him by waving. He left later on, it was quite late but he wanted to find Lynne and show it to her. He wanted his friend to see his parents, but finding her proved to be more difficult. He had to move with the cloak so as not to be seen and he heard the caretaker Filch shouting at someone when he was approaching the library, so he steered clear from there in the end.

Giving up and quite sleepy from walking around, he returned to the room only to find the door now closed. He pushed it slowly, peeking inside with his cloak still on. There, in front of the mirror was Lynne now, absorbed by whatever she was seeing, a frowning and confused look on his face.

"You found it as well!" he blurted out and all of a sudden he was pushed to the ground by an invisible force.

"Ugh!"

"Harry! I'm so sorry. You startled me." she said almost in his ears and that's when he realized that she hadn't used a spell, she had somehow in a flash tackled him.

Removing the cloak, he felt pain in his butt from the fall and somewhere in his chest where she had pushed. She extended her arm to him with a worried look.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry." he said, taking her cold hand to help him up.

He was going to say something else when he remembered where they were.

"Oh you saw the mirror, did you see my parents?"

"Your parents, Harry?"

"Yes, yes!" Skipping the small distance and not letting go of her hand, Harry moved in front of the mirror.

"There they are." He smiled at her but she was not really smiling.

"Harry, I see more than two people, how many do you see?"

"What… I only see my parents. I asked them…" He looked at the mirror confused.

"I think it's not showing the same thing for both of us, in the inscription it says it's the mirror of desire, although for some reason the last word is backwards. I'm guessing it is cursed to enter our minds and show us what we want the most."

"Then… it's not real…?"

"Well, your parents cannot come back to life, Harry. I'm sorry."

"I know that… I just thought it was something they left behind." he replied saddened.

After a few moments in silence he spoke again.

"So you see your family as well?"

"I have no clue as to who they are. But I have no family, Harry. I was not born… I thought you would have figured it out already, I was created." She paused, thinking aloud. "And I have met my maker, he is not among them."

"To be honest… I didn't want to pry for what you are, I just think you are my best friend regardless of what you are and that's all I need to know."

She smiled brightly at him.

"You are very noble, Harry."

He felt his cheek warm and he thought of a way to lead the conversation elsewhere.

"You really have no idea who you see? Do they look like you?"

She stared at the mirror once more.

"I don't have even a hint at who they are, they dress weirdly, they look nothing like me and they have all sad looks in their eyes."

"There is a little kid like me, who must be around 9 to 10 years old that was hugged by all of them but now she is staring at me, the only one smiling out of all of them."

She kept staring at the mirror without moving.

"My chest aches and my body seems to remember them but I don't really know the reason, it unsettles me. I never needed a family nor did I ever want one, but this one is staring at me as if I am the only thing missing."

She sighed heavily and Harry didn't have a response exactly to that.

"The longer I stare, the less I know if this desire is mine or not."

"We should just leave this mirror behind, Harry. Enchanted objects are unhealthy more times than not."

Harry didn't want to leave though, it was the first time he saw his parents, and they seemed happy to see them, but seeing Lynne's distraught face was enough to consider letting the mirror be for now.

"Can we share your cloak Harry? I encountered Filch and had to make a run for it, the invisibility would come really handy."

Harry wanted to smack his head for not thinking about that, always thought that Lynne would be able to sneak up on anyone anyway.

"Of course!"

The castle was colder than usual as they crept through its stone corridors, the silence broken only by the faint scuff of his shoes against the metal prosthetics of his friend, and the soft whisper of fabric as Harry adjusted the cloak around them.

It was not a tight fit but for some reason, they were having issues while walking normally. If he had been taller he was sure they wouldn't be having a problem.

"It hurts to bump into you." joked harry in a whisper.

"You are slow." she replied, deadpan.

He tried not to laugh too loud, especially when she accidentally jabbed him in the ribs with her sharp elbows.

"Sorry." she said, although it didn't sound she meant it.

They turned a corner, hugging the wall as Flich's distant muttering echoed from another corridor. Harry held his breath and Lynne didn't move a muscle, he wondered if she was even breathing. Her control was unnerving and impressive at the same time. When it was safe again, she nudge him forward.

"Left foot first." she whispered.

"What?"

"You keep bumping into my legs and shoes."

He briefly remembered his short trip to London once where he saw the Queen's guard march and mumbled something about her surely being the tiniest guard if she tried. His mind picturing a Lynne dress in red attire with the black bonnet they use.

By the time they reached the Ravenclaw Tower, Harry was flushed and grinning. Lynne's hair was looking funny because of the static generated by friction between the cloak and her. She looked mildly annoyed at that but said nothing as they stepped into the common room.

"Would you be able to sleep now?"

"I don't know… I think so?"

"If you make yourself comfortable I can keep you company here until you fall asleep."

He never slept with anyone before so he agreed just to try something new, besides he felt he learnt something new about Lynne and that made him happy. Harry dropped the cloak onto one of the chairs by the fireplaces and sat down on the comfy couch. Lynne followed sitting on the edge of the armrest with quiet grace, her arms folding over one of her knees while her other leg was extended to support her.

He looked at her, eyes still bright, amused by her hairs.

"Thanks for not hexing me the third time I bumped into you."

"I considered it."

He laughed and he saw her relax finally, a soft genuine smile on her face. He was used to the faint flicker she gave Hermione or Professors in passing, but an amused and real smile that made the firelight shimmer softly against her pale face was rare.

For a little while, they said nothing more while the castle slept. He yawned as tiredness took hold of him and he closed his eyes, feeling the company of his friend close by.
​

---

Alastor Moody was panting heavily, he was in a cold, dark cellar, it reeked of mildew and something metallic. He was chained to a battered wooden chair, arms tightly bound, his wand nowhere to be seen. A single, sputtering candle cast ghostly shadows against the grimy stone walls.

Despite the bruises and cuts, Moody's one visible eye glowed defiantly; the other, enchanted, spun wildly in its socket, searching tirelessly for weaknesses.

His captors had first kept him hidden for some time, clearly waiting for someone to come for him, they were clearly disappointed. They had moved to torture and interrogation. The last round of questions had ended in pain, but for them as much as for him. Moody's lips twisted into a savage grin as the door rattled open again.

"Still nothing, old man?" growled Walden McNair, stepping inside. "All we need is a name. The girl. Who sent her after us?"

Moody spat blood at McNair's feet. "You lot are losing your touch."

McNair lunged forward in fury, raising his wand but Moody was quicker. With a guttural roar, he surged forward, breaking the weakened chair legs beneath him. In one swift, brutal motion, he slammed McNair's face into the wall, grabbing his wand hand and twisting it violently until the wand clattered to the floor.

McNair screamed, but Moody wasn't listening. He snatched up the wand, and with practiced ease, the chains fell away, clanging loudly on the stone floor.

"Consider this your first and last lesson, McNair. Never get within arm's reach. Stupify."

The Death eaters and snatchers that were here as a trap were not expecting an attack from within, disorganized chaos filled their ranks as communication was not something they practiced. They were not sure what was happening until a few of Moody's spells connected.

He was currently trapped in a pureblood house, he was not exactly sure whose but he took mental note of everything he saw. If he ever returned to raid some of these places he would know who was responsible for this and make them pay.

Screams and spells were traded, even among their own as Moody moved with as much speed as his limbs allowed him, he missed his cane already.

He watched amused as the wards fell as some of the Death eaters thought it was wise to make their escape instead of fighting him.

Moments later, a loud crack echoed through the compound as Moody Disapparated, leaving behind only his broken captors and a spreading puddle of blood.
​

---

Lucius Malfoy stood in his study, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the gardens bathed in moonlight. The quiet was broken when a hurried knock at the door shattered his contemplation.

"Come in."

A young man, pale-faced and breathless, stepped into the room.

"Malfoy… Moody has escaped."

Lucius's jaw tightened visibly, but his voice remained coldly composed. "Escaped? How?"

"McNair underestimated him. Moody broke free and took his wand. He's injured badly. He said Moody left no trace to follow."

"And the girl?" Lucius asked sharply. "Did she make any move to help Moody? Did she show herself?"

"No." the Death Eater admitted. "She didn't come, but we knew that already, which is why we were interrogating him."

"Did we learn anything?"

"He had nothing on his possessions that he could use to communicate with anyone, and no one made contact with him. He obviously didn't talk."

Lucius's grip tightened on the edge of his desk, his knuckles whitening. "Then they were never allies. We wasted valuable resources on this gamble."

"Yes, sir," said the Death Eater quietly. "But there is... another matter. We fear the girl may be connected to the Lestranges then if the auror held no connection."

Lucius turned sharply, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Bellatrix and Rodolphus are rotting in Azkaban. I know some of you are paranoid but I find it hard to believe that they found a way to communicate with her."

"Not directly, but what about a contingency plan? To have someone raise them to continue in the future?" the Death Eater interrupted cautiously, flinching slightly under Lucius's cold glare. "And they might want revenge, punishment for our cowardice claiming Imperius."

Lucius's eyes darkened as he considered the implications. "Bellatrix was a loyal fanatic, and a mad woman. I'm not sure if she was sound of mind enough to do this though."

"Sir. The more extreme one sees us as traitors, it wouldn't surprise me at least.."

Lucius moved to the fireplace, staring into the flames. His fingers drummed impatiently on the marble mantelpiece. "This girl is becoming more than an inconvenience. We cannot afford another misstep."

The Death Eater waited nervously, watching the subtle tension ripple across Lucius's features.

"We will watch the girl closely, but discreetly for now, our second plan will come into motion soon. Be sure to remain under wards just in case." Lucius said at last. "If she's working with the Lestranges or their sympathizers... we'll have bigger problems than Moody."

"Yes, sir." With a quick bow, the young Death Eater hurried away.

Alone again, Lucius stared into the fire, his expression grim. He was not sure who would do such a thing anymore but the Malfoy family would beat all odds.
​

---

The cold of the forgotten classroom clung to the air like mist. Harry sat motionless in front of the Mirror of Erised, his breath fogging faintly as he stared into the reflection.

His parents smiled back at him. Their hands rested on his shoulders. They looked solid and warm but at the same time felt impossible. They didn't speak but they looked at him as if they had always been watching.

He had come back to see them again. Just once more.

"Back again, Harry?"

The voice cut through the stillness like a soft knock on a closed door. Harry startled, turning to find Dumbledore standing behind him, robes trailing the floor, his hands clasped in front of him, as if by command the candles lit giving the room a warmer feeling.

"Sorry, Professor, I didn't see you." Harry said.

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible." he said amused.

Dumbledore offered a small smile and stepped forward, his gaze flicking to the mirror.

"I see that you, like so many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised. I expect by now you realize what it does."

Harry looked down. "It shows me my parents."

"I would expect nothing less," Dumbledore said gently. "To one who has never known family, it is an image more powerful than any spell."

"I'll give you a clue, Harry. The happiest man on earth would look into the Mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is."

He moved to stand beside Harry. For a moment, they both faced the mirror, though Dumbledore did not look into it.

"So then, it shows us what we want... whatever we want…"

"Yes and no. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them gathered around you." he said. "Sometimes that desire is simple. Sometimes... it is not even our own."

Harry hesitated. "Sir, Lynne also saw a family, but she wasn't happy as I was, she was just confused, what does that mean? "

Dumbledore gave no sign of surprise. He remained very still, the candlelight playing across his glasses.

"I cannot say for certain why Lynne sees a family strange to her but there must be a reason. Why don't you ask her? She seems quite sharp and honest all the time."

"She stared into it for a long time," Harry continued. "She didn't say anything. But... something was wrong. I could see it in her eyes. I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable, she is my friend."

Dumbledore gave him a faint smile. "You care about her."

"I just want to understand how to help." Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And that, Harry, is often more powerful than any spell in this castle. There are truths people must find on their own though. I would advise patience, for her to come to terms with whatever she saw."

He began to move away, but paused beside the mirror.

"The mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow. I ask that you do not go looking for it again, Harry. It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

Harry nodded, but his eyes lingered on the reflection.

"Sir," he asked suddenly, "What do you see in the mirror?"

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses, his eyes twinkling faintly.

"I see myself holding a pair of thick woollen socks. One can never have enough socks."

Harry blinked. "Socks?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, already at the door. "Christmas socks, specifically. Warm and without holes."

He gave the mirror a last look, then at Harry, but he was no longer staring into it. He was thinking about Lynne, the strange quiet stillness in her face that night, as if she were seeing something not longed for, but misplaced. Something that shouldn't be there. Dumbledore stepped into the hallway, guiding him out of the room.
​

---

Quirinus Quirrell moved quickly through the lower halls, robes brushing stone with a whisper. His hands shook as he tightened the clasps on his sleeves, but he kept his head down. His steps didn't echo. He liked it that way.

He was being followed. Not constantly, not obviously, but often enough to unravel him. She never spoke, never confronted. Just appeared in places she had no reason to be, too close to the Defense classroom, too near the staff quarters, once even outside the library at midnight, silent as snow. For some reason, these days she was always watching, waiting for him it seemed.

The girl most gifted in her year, even more than the Boy-who-lived. She unsettled the students, as well, he was not the only one feeling this way. But Quirrell had begun to believe she saw more than she should. Perhaps even… sensed what lived beneath his skin.

"You are afraid of her." the voice whispered from the back of his skull.

Quirrell winced, biting down panic. "She is dangerous," he murmured aloud, quiet enough not to carry.

Lynne terrified him. Not because she was loud or reckless, but because she wasn't. She was too still. Too quiet. There was no hatred in her eyes, no suspicion. Just calculation. In his eyes, it was worse than anger.

She could see the threads unraveling. Maybe not consciously, but she knew. And worst of all, he couldn't read her. Students in general were easy to discern, to know how they feel, they would usually wear their feelings on their faces. The girl on the other hand was like a locked box, there was nothing to see.

Or she could be exactly what she appeared to be a student with metal arms and a mind that moved like a knife.

He didn't know, and although he could rationalize that due to his current condition he might be paranoid, there were too many coincidental meetings.

And it made him sick.

"She is a child."

"She moves like a ghost. She sees things others miss. She doesn't sleep. She has no fear."

"Then remove her."

Quirrell's jaw clenched. "We still don't know how to get past that fool's creature, master."

"You are weak."

"You need me." he whispered. "If you kill her now, Dumbledore will intervene. He watches her too."

His vision swam for a moment. He leaned against the wall, breathing shallowly.

Quirinus had been a curious man, a scholar. Not brave or foolish, just drawn to knowledge that most dared not touch. He had wanted to understand the Dark Arts after studying muggles closely, he understood he needed to stop their threat from spreading to the wizarding world.

He had told himself that he wanted to protect, he didn't want to harm anyone but on his journey he realized that the threat was even bigger than what he initially thought. The muggles were spreading like cancer on the world, it was only a matter of time when they would be discovered, and then he was sure they would perish.

There was no way to win against the sheer number and scale of the technological advancement that they possessed. In his mind, they needed the greater evil, someone as powerful as Dumbledore but not as benevolent.

When he first met Voldemort, following the whispers of a great evil spreading through the forests of Albania, he had thought himself strong enough to bargain, to learn. He thought he could gain power and return to Hogwarts, not as a stuttering, overlooked academic, but as something respected, where he could teach young students to prepare for the muggle threat.

At first, he told himself it would be temporary. A year, perhaps less. Long enough to help his master regain strength, find the stone they discovered that was in Dumbledore's possession and then collect his freedom, reward and recognition. He would be remembered as the one responsible for saving wizard kind.

Instead, he became the doorway. The price of knowledge had been his body, his sleep, his health and the loss of his free will. His mind had been carved open, inch by inch and now his thoughts weren't always his own, now he woke with memories he hadn't lived. Some were quite unpleasant, he wasn't gaining any knowledge either.

Weeks passed, then months and the magic that tethered the thing in the back of his head to his own flesh grew tighter. The headaches grew worse and his limbs stiffened in the morning, the stammer he had once faked now came without effort.

He was dying, and had begun to wake in cold sweats, unable to feel his fingers. His body had grown colder these past weeks. His fingers sometimes refused to move properly. When he looked in the mirror, he could no longer see the color in his face. The food tasted like ash. Even the warmth of the castle fires didn't seem to reach his skin anymore, and Lord Voldemort knew, of course he knew.

The parasite was eating him alive.

Lately, he couldn't tell when the trembling in his hands was fear or possession. Still, he endured. Still, he obeyed. A fear of death was fueling his actions now, but he never particularly had this fear before, if he weren't so far gone, he would have known that fear was not his own.

The voice didn't respond immediately. Then, after a long moment, it hissed.

"You need to find a solution soon. You are dying, your body won't hold much longer. Do not fail me now!"

Quirrell had spent three nights pacing the forest's edge, studying the layout and searching for a workaround. He needed to find something, a spell, a substitute, anything to stop his body from decaying further, but there was not a workaround that would see him alive in the end.

His master had suggested unicorn blood, but he remembered what it meant, everyone did. Even the darkest of books whispered of its price, too high for anyone to even consider it.

Feeling of anxiety and dread filled his head, if he didn't find a solution soon he would have to curse himself, to live a half-life, a damned life even if it saved his soul from leaving his body.

Quirrell pressed his fingers to his temple, trembling. Down the corridor, the candles flickered slightly. His hand had begun to tremble again, the rot was spreading and he was going to add more garlic to hide the odor. He didn't want to die but he didn't want this either.
​

---

The first week of January passed in a quiet blur. Hermione returned from her holiday in high spirits, bundled in a new winter cloak and already muttering about her trip to France to anyone who would listen. She realized that Lynne would often listen even if her face showed no emotion, so she would endlessly talk in front of her, by now Harry knew everything that happened in her trip.

Snow still blanked the castle grounds, and the warmth of the holidays had passed, replaced by the steady rhythm of lessons, hallways and homework. Normalcy, or at least as normal as Hogwarts ever was for him.

"Indica locus." he whispered, wand out.

The blue lights lit a path, shimmering and waving through the castle directing him to his next class. Lately, he didn't even need the spell to guide him where he needed to go, his memory was good enough to by now memorize the general layout of the castle, but he still practiced the spell.

He arrived alone to Charms class, as Lynne was disappearing more frequently every now and then, she was still having perfect attendance somehow, but he was missing her at times.

After class he caught up with her quickly in case she went somewhere else.

"I couldn't find you anywhere, Lynne, where do you go these days?"

"I'm just letting someone know they are being watched in case they decide to do something stupid."

That sounded ominous enough to not ask many questions, Harry wondered if she was being bullied again, his friend didn't seem to let her friends get involved in her fights. Still he had things to say so he let it go for now anyway.

"We caught up with Hagrid a bit with Hermione, I wanted you to be there but I couldn't find you."

"You could have let me know with your watch, Harry."

"Oh. You are right, I didn't think of it."

She chuckled and did a small motion for him to continue.

"We think we figured out what's being hidden on the third floor, it's some kind of artifact related to someone Hagrid mentioned without meaning to."

He paused. "Do you know who Nicholas Flamel is?"

Lynne didn't look surprised. "Yes."

Harry frowned. "Wait, you know who that is already?"

"Of course. Nicholas Flamel is an alchemist, born in the 14th Century, creator of the Philosopher's Stone which has granted him with almost eternal life. He is almost 700 years old now." she replied.

Harry blinked surprised. "Is that real?"

"Very real. The stone grants immortality through the Elixir of Life. It also produces unlimited gold but it was never its intended design."

Harry let that sink in.

"So that's what the Cerberus is guarding." he said, quietly amazed. "The stone is here, at Hogwarts."

"Which is weird, it was safe with the Flamel's. Unless Dumbledore is doing experiments with the stone it makes little sense."

"Someone wants it, otherwise they wouldn't guard it at all. But who?"

Lynne nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't think it's a student, Death Eaters still exist, they might want it for their Lord. Hagrid told you he believed he wasn't truly gone, others might believe that as well."

"But they cannot enter the school, right?" he asked hopeful.

"What about a professor?"

"Wha-? Who?" He looked thoughtful, his first suspect was Snape with how snappy and upset he was all the time.

"I have my doubts, I don't know yet, but I'm suspicious of one already. They've been quiet and patient so far, but the troll incident was weird enough."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. He thought that if it was a professor, the threat was bigger than what he initially accounted for. He felt that the other staff members didn't take it at all seriously enough, probably because most people thought Voldemort was gone.

They started walking back toward the stairwell, snow falling softly outside the windows.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Harry asked after a moment.

She glanced at him "Because sometimes knowing too much only makes the danger come faster, I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Harry."

He didn't reply but stayed at her side wondering. "I don't want anything to happen to you either."

She sighed. "We can probably get more information about the protections of the stone from Hagrid."

"I will find Hermione and we can go later, she wanted to know as well."

With a new plan in motion, they moved on to the next class for the day.​

 

[Lucernello]

I'm going to start adding motivational paragraphs on my posts to give myself a bit of motivation, but if it helps anyone reading, I'll be happy as well.

You got this! Remember all things are temporary, so you will get out of whatever you are going through eventually, just hang in there, better times will come soon, being consistent and doing a little everyday will make a difference. Keep writing that paragraph you left untouched for a few days, just small phrases every few hours. Keep drawing that sketch you think is not good enough, it might be if you give it more love, remember even if you don't like it, other people might and that could be great. Keep recording your beats, try new things if you are stuck, go make new things and come back, a little bit always helps. If you are feeling overwhelmed remember to put a bit of time into a hobby that will help you empty your head, it will help you attack those mean responsabilities with greater force. Fix that sleep schedule, bringing order will help consistency, I know you can do it, I believe in you.

I will mark them as MP at the beginning of each chapter for you, it's my way of abbreviating Motivational Phrase. I assume since Author's notes get abbreviated anyway, might as well. I will try to make them as varied as possible and in theme for next chapters, I think it will add more humor to an otherwise quite cold story and character, no?
Anyways, enjoy.
Luce
​

---

Chapter 6 - Directive

The frost still clung to the edges of the castle windows even though the new term had started. The crisp cold seemed to creep through the old stones of Hogwarts, making the common rooms especially inviting with their roaring fires and deep armchairs.

The library was warm though and buzzing with quiet activity when Harry finally joined Hermione at the table they had claimed for their own. She looked up from a thick volume and smiled, her cheeks pink from the cold.

"You have been avoiding me." she said, accusing mockingly.

Involving her might put her in danger, Harry. That had been Lynne's thoughts on letting Hermione know about the stone. He had thought about it for a long time before deciding they would let her know about it just enough to let her in on what's going on but not enough to endanger her, he was afraid that if he didn't speak to her, she would head straight into peril.

"I was just waiting for the right moment, I wanted to convince Lynne to come but she had something important to do. So I was waiting for her in the common room." Harry said.

"Why am I not surprised? Somehow she is not even studying and still miles ahead."

He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. Lynne arrived quietly behind him, carrying two mugs of something steaming. She set one in front of Harry without comment and took a seat herself, folding neatly into the space like a blade slipping into a sheath. She took a book out of her satchel, like she'd always been meant to live between stacks of parchment.

Harry leaned forward. "We need to talk. We spoke earlier, Hermione." Harry said. "About the third floor."

Hermione's brow furrowed immediately. She lowered her voice. "And?" She asked, now clearly focused on the conversation. Harry glanced at Lynne, who simply nodded.

"Lynne already knows about Nicholas Flamel. He is an alchemist and he created what is being kept at the school. The Philosopher's Stone."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly and gasped. She leaned in closer, instinctively shielding their conversation with her arms. "Of course! I knew I had read about it a few weeks back, but I forgot about it because it was just something that I took for a light read."

Hermione chewed her lower lip. "No wonder Dumbledore hid it here…" Harry leaned back, feeling the weight of the conversation settle between them.

"We need more information. If we can find out how it's protected, we might figure out who would be capable of getting through." the girl continued.

"Hagrid might know." Harry said.

"He definitely knows," Hermione replied. "The way he slipped up about Flamel? He can't keep a secret to save his life."

They exchanged a look. Lynne gave the smallest nod.

"I'll handle the questions." Hermione said. "You two just keep him talking… Uhm, do you know who would even try to steal something like that?" she asked Lynne.

"Maybe someone already inside." Lynne said quietly, almost to herself.

Hermione nodded slowly, tapping her finger against the table. "You don't think it's a student. A professor?"

"Maybe."

Hermione straightened, looking thoughtful. They sat in silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only sound between them.

"We'll have to be careful." Lynne said. "If someone is watching, asking the wrong questions could speed things up."

Hermione looked determined. "Then we'll do it properly. Bit by bit. No rushing."

The three of them leaned over the table pulling out scrap parchment, quietly beginning to draft a plan. Outside the windows, the snow fell quietly in thick, lazy flakes.

Let's hope we can keep her out of risk. She seems eager to find out about everything.

Harry's pocket watch hummed, Lynne's message clear, he thought so too.
​

---

The morning of the match dawned cold and brilliant. It was Ravenclaw vs Slytherin, no stakes but pride and house points. The sky above the castle was a sharp winter blue, the clouds thin as lace, the ground still dusted with glittering frost.

Still, the energy in the air felt like a festival. Students bundled in cloaks, scarves, and thick gloves poured out of the castle gates in streams of color. Emerald and silver for Slytherin, blue and bronze for Ravenclaw.

Harry pulled his own scarf tighter as he and Lynne made their way down the sloping grounds toward the Quidditch pitch. Snow still lingered around the edges, the scent of cold air, damp earth, but the heavens were clear, and the students buzzed with excitement.

The stadium loomed ahead, towering stands carved from dark wood, draped with house banners that flapped lazily in the breeze. From a distance, the hoops at either end looked like giant brass rings stitched into the sky.

Students were already filling the seats, their breath rising in clouds as they jostled for a better view. Harry had never seen anything like it, he looked up spinning slowly on the spot to take it all in. The flags, eager faces, the glint of broomsticks in the sunlight, hit Harry's excitement up a notch.

He briefly wondered why he had avoided coming in the first place, but he had to admit the training was paying off, today they were free and thus forced to come by their housemates.

They found seats halfway up the stands, and Lynne sat with her hood pulled low, observing silently. Hermione kept a notepad in her lap, for strategic notes, she insisted. She had been pointed at by her housemates for sitting in the Ravenclaw seats, but she didn't seem to care, saying she was here for her friends not the game.

Besides there seemed to be a great animosity from all the other three houses against Slytherin. Apparently they were infamous for foul play. Harry watched every movement like he was memorizing a spell.

"First match?" a voice asked beside him.

Harry turned to see Terry Boot, another first-year Ravenclaw, adjusting his mittens.

"Yeah." Harry admitted, a little embarrassed.

Terry grinned. "It's brilliant. You'll love it. You know the basics?"

Harry shook his head.

"Alright." Terry said, animated. "Each team has seven players. Three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper, and one Seeker."

He pointed to the hoops. "Chasers pass the Quaffle, that's the big red ball, through those hoops to score goals. Ten points a goal."

"And the Beaters?"

"They carry bats. Knock the Bludgers away from their team, those are the crazy black balls that try to kill you."

Harry blinked.

"Not literally." Terry said quickly. "Usually."

Lynne smirked faintly at Harry's expression but said nothing.

"And the Seeker?" Harry asked.

"Smallest ball, tiny gold thing with wings. That's the Snitch. The Seeker has to catch it. Worth one hundred and fifty points. Catch it, and the match usually ends in a win for your team."

Harry absorbed it all quickly. "Sounds like chaos."

Terry beamed. "Best chaos ever."

Lynne sat with her feet slightly apart, her metal fingers folded loosely in her lap, eyes scanning the pitch with detached interest. The players were already assembling, hovering on their brooms like hawks circling a field.

Madam Hooch, in her bright yellow robes, stood at the center circle, whistle glinting in the sun. The crowd hushed. The whistle shrieked and the balls were released with a crack of sound, and in a flash of color and roaring cheers, the players took to the air.

Harry's breath caught, instantly amazed. He could hear the faint sounds of someone commentating the game but he tuned that out when he got lost in some of the plays, apparently even dodging differently in the air had some names he knew nothing about.

The brooms zipped through the sky with impossible speed and grace. Chasers darted like fish through water, passing the Quaffle in tight formations. Beaters swung their bats in broad arcs, sending Bludgers rocketing across the field with dangerous precision.

And high above it all, the Seekers circled, scanning for that glint of gold. Harry leaned forward, his heart pounding in rhythm with the game.

He barely noticed Hermione squeezing onto the bench beside him, notebook in hand.

"I take it you like it." she said dryly.

Harry didn't answer right away. He was too busy following a Ravenclaw Chaser pulling a breathtaking spiral dive to avoid a Bludger.

"I want to do that." he said, almost under his breath.

Lynne, still watching the sky, said quietly, "You could."

Harry grinned without looking away. "Next year…we have to try out."

Lynne, unusually, leaned in just enough to speak. "We did like flying earlier in the year."

"I loved flying." He answered.

Hermione sighed. "We'll never hear the end of this now."

But Lynne only said "You are light and fast, you would be good."

Harry's smile didn't fade the rest of the match.
​

---

The walk back up to the castle was filled with excited chatter about the match. Harry couldn't stop replaying the dives, sharp turns, the speed of the players. Even Hermione, despite claiming Quidditch was "A foolish risk to health and dignity." seemed a little caught up in the excitement.

Ravenclaw was holding a party, their win against Slytherin had been close, but having lost against Hufflepuff in November and them losing to Slytherin meant that they were still in contention for the Quidditch Cup and everyone was ecstatic.

Still, the trio didn't want to be caught up in the party in the common room, they were not really fond of the excessive noise. They didn't intend to visit Hagrid that evening but when they passed the greenhouses and spotted the broad, familiar figure stacking crates of kindling by his hut, Harry couldn't help himself.

"Let's say hello." he said, already veering off the path.

Hermione sighed. "It's freezing out here and we didn't revise the plan!"

"It'll be warmer by his fire." Harry promised.

Lynne didn't object, she rarely did when Harry led anyway. They crossed the snowy lawn, their boots crunching against the ice-crusted grass. Smoke curled from Hagrid's chimney, thick and sweet with the scent of burning oak.

Before they could knock, Hagrid swung the door open with a creak and a gust of warm, hot air.

"Evenin', you lot!" he said, his massive beard full of bread crumbs. "Come in, come in!"

The three of them shuffled inside, stomping the snow off their boots. Fang the boarhound bounded forward, nearly knocking Hermione over, before settling with a great wheezing huff by the hearth.

The inside of the hut was sweltering compared to the crips winter outside, the fire blazed cheerily. The walls were lined with drying herbs, sacks of feed and strange tools Harry didn't recognize, although he did spend a lot of his time at the Dursley gardening.

Hagrid bustled about, throwing more logs onto the fire.

"Bit nippy out tonight." he said, handing them mugs of steaming cider that smelled faintly of cinnamon.

Harry sipped gratefully, warming his hand on the mug although he noticed quickly that it was quite hot inside already. He also noticed near the hearth, a cookpot that shifted slightly from side to side with a blanket on top.

"Hagrid," he said slowly, "what's that?"

"Eh? Oh, just somethin' I picked up in town," Hagrid said too quickly, waving a hand that nearly knocked over a kettle.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Hagrid."

Lynne, without moving from her chair, simply said, "It's alive. Another creature, Hagrid?"

Hagrid flushed.

"Maybe a bit alive." he admitted.

Harry set down his mug and crouched near the hearth, pulling back the corner of the blanket carefully.

Underneath was a large, black egg, flecked with deep green, pulsing faintly with warmth.

He looked up at Hagrid, eyes wide. "Is that a dragon egg?"

Hagrid beamed, looking ridiculously pleased. "A Norwegian Ridgeback! Rare, that is. Got it off a stranger in the pub. Lucky night, that."

Hermione groaned into her hands. "Hagrid, you can't keep a dragon here! They're illegal!"

"Only if you get caught." Hagrid said cheerfully, tossing Fang a scrap of meat.

"Your dwellings are also wooden. It may go up in flames."

Harry and Hermione looked horrified now, feeling a strange mixture of awe and dread.

"Is it normal to win such things in a pub?" Lynne asked quietly, voice too casual.

Hagrid shrugged. "Dunno. But the fella was friendly enough."

Lynne's metal fingers tapped lightly against the side of her mug, but she said nothing else. The fire crackled louder in the silence.

"How long until it hatches you reckon Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Not sure, any day now me thinks."

The egg didn't wait long. Two nights after their visit, Harry, Hermione, and Lynne found themselves crowded inside Hagrid's hut again, the air thick with the scent of burning logs and singed parchment.

The massive iron cauldron had been moved near the fire, resting on a bed of smoldering coals. Hagrid paced restlessly, wringing his huge hands, casting nervous glances at the trembling shell.

"It's takin' longer than I thought." he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with a rag that had clearly seen better days.

Harry knelt closer, fascinated. A hairline crack had appeared down the center of the shell. It shimmered faintly under the firelight. Everyone was sweating except Lynne who looked still composed and unbothered by the heat.

Is your body not affected by heat or cold? He asked, his hand slightly moving the watch in his pocket.

Lynne giggled and took out his wand in a swift movement. She waved it and all of a sudden Harry felt like they had cracked an egg from the bottom of his head and it dripped to the bottom of his toes, instantly feeling colder and at ease.

"Cooling charm, I didn't think you were uncomfortable, sorry. Here for you too." she said to Hermione.

"It's moving." Hermione whispered without commenting on the spell, which was rare and spoke about how nervous she was.

They watched as the crack widened, thin tendrils of smoke curling out from the seams. The egg rocked violently once, then again, tipping dangerously to the side. Then, with a sharp crack and a small explosion of sparks, the shell split.

The creature that emerged was nothing like Harry expected. It was tiny, only about the size of a loaf of bread, but already wicked-looking. Its scales gleamed darkly, like wet iron, and tiny wings twitched spasmodically against its back. Its snout was long and narrow, nostrils flaring as it hissed softly at the sudden cold outside the shell.

Its eyes, a deep gold and slit like a cat's, blinked once, then locked onto them.

"Ain't he beautiful?" Hagrid breathed, his voice thick with pride.

Hermione made a strangled noise in her throat. The baby dragon wobbled on its spindly legs, letting out a small, rasping growl.

"I will call him Norbert."

Without hesitation, Lynne stepped forward before anyone could react, she knelt by the broken shell, extending her metal hands slowly. The dragon sniffed the air cautiously, then with surprising speed, latched onto her forearms with its tiny jaws.

Harry flinched and Hagrid let out a small gasp, but Lynne didn't even blink, as the dragon gnawed harmlessly at the metal, its small fangs scraping uselessly against the enchanted surface.

"That'll save yer skin, that will." Hagrid said, impressed. "They have a nasty bite, most dragons are venomous."

Lynne gently pried the creatures free, cradling it carefully between her palms, the baby dragon squirmed but then seemed to settle, curling up with a low rumble of content.

"Looks like he likes you." Harry said, half in awe, half in disbelief.

"It's because I am heating my hands."

Lynne tilted her head slightly, studying the small creature as it yawned and exhaled a puff of smoke that made Harry cough.

"It's not a "he", and she is hungry." she said simply.

Hagrid bustled to his pantry, returning with strips of raw meat, which Lynne fed to the dragon with quiet efficiency. She devoured the food greedily, small sparks flaring at the corners of her mouth.

"So I guess you will have to think of another name, Hagrid." Harry said, still amazed at the creature.

"I guess, how did you know it was a female dragon by the way?" Hagrid asked in wonder.

"Male dragons are not aggressive when they are born."

Hermione wrung her hands nervously. "Hagrid, you have to understand, you can't keep her here. Someone's going to notice."

"She'll be no trouble, I'll train 'er proper."

But even as he spoke, the dragon gave a sudden hiccup and a burst of flame scorched the edge of one of Hagrid's rugs. Lynne stamped it out with one foot, calm as ever. Harry exchanged a look with Hermione.

"This isn't going to work for long, is it?." Harry said.

"Female dragons also grow in size very quickly."

Harry groaned anxiously.
​

---

The next evening, the hut felt warmer and heavier than before. The dragon now named Norberta, after a rather fierce debate between Hagrid and Hermione, had doubled in size overnight. Her scales glinted sharper and her baby growls had turned into guttural rumbles that made Fang cower under the table.

Harry sat near the hearth, watching as Lynne methodically wrapped Norberta in a large, heavy cloth to muffle the sound of her squirming. She worked with practiced care, completely unaffected by the occasional burst of smoke puffing near her hands.

Hagrid was muttering to himself near the pantry, trying to locate more meat scraps while Hermione was looking inside a book on how to care for a dragon, that she took off the library that day.

Then all of a sudden Lynne froze mid-motion. Harry caught the worry in her eyes and the sudden shift in her stance, her head tilted slightly, the way her shoulders tensed under her robes.

"Someone's outside." she said quietly.

Hermione's eyes widened. "What?"

Lynne didn't answer, she placed Norberta back in her makeshift basket and rose silently, moving towards the door like a shadow. Harry and Hermione barely dared to breathe. For a moment, there was only the crackling of the fire and the faint scraping of claws against wood.

Then Lynne flung the door open, on the side of the hut was Draco Malfoy stacking crates to peak from the side window. His pale face went even paler when he saw Lynne, and for a frozen second, no one moved. Then he started running.

Lynne slipped outside, disappearing into the night like a whisper. The rest of them stayed frozen inside, hearts pounding barely daring to move. Minutes passed and Lynne returned, brushing a few snowflakes from her cloak, her expression was calm and unbothered.

"He's gone." she said simply. "He won't trouble us tonight, I don't think he saw anything."

Harry let out a relieved sigh, Hermione suspicious by nature hesitated, but Lynne couldn't lie so there was no reason to suspect anything.

"Good, we need to focus on what to do with Norberta." she said at last.

Lynne only nodded, setting back by the fire as if nothing had happened, while outside, hidden behind Hagrid's hut a small butterfly was resting, her enchanted trunk sitting quietly in the shadows of the window. No one heard the faint thump as if the butterfly had something inside.
​

---

Draco winced as the metal door of the trunk slammed shut with a loud crack, woken up by the loud noise. The small space was unnaturally large inside, cold and dark. Filled with many rooms, the one he was currently in had a strange mist clinging to the ground. He stumbled back, trying to find his wand but he didn't find it.

Volant was inside, he could hear her steps for the first time, and he felt intimidated. She stepped into the room wand ready, with a swift and sharp twist of her wrist sent him flying, his limbs clattering across the stone floor.

He let out a small yelp as he felt the pain go through his body. Trying desperately not to cry or show weakness, he stared at her menacing small form. She was still aiming her wand at him and her face showed no emotions. He stood up fast but there was nothing he could do without his wand.

"Sit."

The word was quiet but cut through the dense air like a blade, her voice was always strange, raw and broken. Now it sounded downright mechanical, as fear took hold of him, he couldn't move.

"You- you can't touch me, my father…"

The blonde's pale figure was approaching him, the metal of her prosthetic hands gleaming under the faint blue light she conjured. Without warning, she stomped down hard onto his foot. The paint hit him before he could realize that not only her arms were prosthetic but her legs as well. He cried out, trying to pull back, but she pressed down harder.

"Sit." she repeated, emotionless.

Tears were blurring his vision, and then she hit him on his stomach making him double down as a gurgle escaped his mouth. Gritting his teeth and nursing his foot, Draco sat on the floor, out of breath and coughing.

"You were about to spy on us. What did you see?" Volant stated, cold and detached. "Why were you there?"

Draco opened his mouth, to lie of course, but a sharp jet of water struck him across the face before he could form a word. It was ice cold and it made him cough again. It soaked his robes instantly, making the chilly air inside the trunk feel like a frozen cage.

"Aah!" he gasped. "I saw nothing… I was just curious!"

"Aguamenti."

Another jet of water hit him again, this time aimed at his ear, drenching the side of his head and making him shiver uncontrollably.

"You are lying." she said.

He scrambled backwards, but the trunk's edge was there, a wall of wood and wherever he moved, Volant would follow.

"I-I swear! I was outside our common room after curfew on a dare! Crabbe and Goyle said that without them I wouldn't go outside, I just happened to see you out as well." he tried to sound convincing, but it came out in a strangled whimper.

Another stomp, squarely on his hand this time, not hard enough to break bones but enough to make him yelp and clutch it against his chest. She crouched in front of him now, bringing her cold face close to his.

"What did you hear at Hagrid's, what did you see?"

"I don't know anything! Please! I just saw shadows and heard noises!" Draco blabbered, tears mixing with the water dripping down his face.

Volant stared at him unblinking and for a terrifying moment, Draco thought she might crush his throat without a second thought.

But then she stood. "Pathetic." she muttered. "You would think that the spawn of Death Eaters would have torture practice."

She turned slightly, lifting her hand and with a flick of her wand, he levitated him.

"You will say you suffered a prank and got soaked this morning. If I hear you tell anyone, anyone at all, you will regret it."

She lifted him through the room, then up some stairs out of the trunk. Still soaked he was let down by her, they were somehow at the front Gates of the castle. She threw him his wand at his feet and gave him a look of disgust.

"Go."

Draco didn't need to be told twice, stumbling over himself, he fled into the castle, clutching his hand, still feeling the phantom weight of her metal foot on his bones, and vowing never to cross Lynne Volant again. His foot throbbed with every step and his soaked robes clinging to him even after casting a drying charm.

He didn't stop until the looming shadow of Hogwarts swallowed him again. His feet guided him to the hospital Wing, he collapsed in front of the door trying to catch his breath, wiping at his face with trembling hands.

For a few long moments he did nothing but shiver, from the cold and also the sheer terror that the blonde girl inflicted on him. He thought about going to Professor Snape, maybe he could protect him, but the thought evaporated when a memory surfaced.

Avoid contact with Volant AT ALL COSTS.

His father's letter, commanding, like always. He had thought his father was exaggerating, but now he knew, now he understood. Telling Snape would lead to his father finding out, basically admitting that he ignored his warning. Worse, it would mean admitting weakness, fear. A Malfoy did not fear.

He stared down at his hand, still red from where her metal foot had crushed it, the throbbing was duller now, however the same couldn't be said about the pain. No one could know about this, he thought. Draco clenched his fists in pain.

He knocked on the door and the last thing he thought before asking Madam Pomfrey for help is that he would avoid her, no matter what. He would make damn sure his own feet would stay out of Volant's path, and Merlin help anyone foolish enough to cross her.
​

---

The next day dawned grey and bitterly cold, with a sharp wind that rattled the high windows of the castle. Harry pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he and Hermione slipped into the library's corner table, Lynne already waiting there with a thin sheaf of parchment spread out before her.

Hermione glanced around carefully to make sure Madam Pince wasn't lurking nearby.

"We have to move the dragon," she whispered urgently. "Tonight, if we can."

Harry nodded. "Before someone gets brave enough to get near the hut."

"Agreed." Lynne said simply.

Harry bit her lip. "Even if she does nothing, Norberta is growing too fast. If anyone sees her breathing fire or breaking furniture, there'll be questions."

Hermione leaned over the table. "Ron's been bragging about his brother Charlie, he works with dragons in Romania. Maybe we could ask for help?"

Lynne considered it. "If we can trust him to keep quiet."

Harry shrugged. "He would be more interested in meeting the dragon than anything else. I think he'd help."

Hermione gave a small groan. "Well duh. Boys and dragons."

It wasn't hard to find Ron.

He was by the Great Hall stairs, arguing animatedly with Seamus Finnigan about the latest gossip. Apparently Malfoy had appeared at breakfast totally soaked in water, looking distraught with a lost look in his eyes, and was taken to the hospital wing, something that amused the Gryffindors.

When Harry pulled him aside, Ron grinned, then listened, wide-eyed, as Harry explained the situation.

"A dragon?" Ron whispered. "In Hagrid's hut?"

Harry nodded.

"Wicked! You have to let me see it." Ron said immediately. "You have to."

"Help us get him out." Harry said. "Then you can."

Ron agreed almost before Harry finished speaking. He promised to send an owl to Charlie that night, explaining everything.

By the next afternoon, the reply came, short and direct:

Will send friends. Be at Astronomy Tower midnight Friday. Keep the dragon hidden.

Lynne burned the note after reading it. It was all happening fast now. The night of the plan, Hogwarts seemed unnaturally quiet.

Harry and Lynne met near the greenhouses, cloaked and ready. Hermione waited near Hagrid's hut, keeping watch. The invisibility cloak had plenty of room between them, Harry and Lynne were after all the smallest students in their year, but carrying a dragon would complicate matters, there would be barely enough fabric to hide both if they stood close.

Norberta, now about the size of a large dog and ten times as noisy, squirmed restlessly in the thick blanket Lynne had wrapped around him. Tiny bursts of smoke leaked from between the folds.

"Keep his mouth covered." Harry whispered.

"I am." Lynne said.

Harry marveled again at how calmly she handled Norberta's writhing body. The baby dragon bit at her metal arms, claws raking harmlessly over the enchanted surface. She didn't even flinch.

Carefully, awkwardly, they made their way up the castle stairs, sticking to shadows, stopping whenever they heard footsteps.

More than once, Harry thought they would be caught. A group of prefects passed close by near the library stairwell. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, prowled the fourth floor. Somewhere above, Peeves cackled in the pipes.

But Lynne moved like a wraith, leading them through forgotten corridors, back staircases, hidden passages Harry had never noticed before.

When they finally reached the Astronomy Tower, Harry's heart was pounding so loudly he was sure it would give them away.

Two shadowy figures waited near the top, bundled against the cold, their dragon-handling gloves already on.

"Quickly." whispered the redhead of the two. That must be Charlie, Harry thought.

Lynne stepped forward, lifting Norberta with surprising ease despite his wriggling. She handed him over carefully, making sure the blanket stayed wrapped.

The handlers secured him in a reinforced sling. Norberta whined once, a puff of smoke rising into the cold air.

"You handled her perfectly for a first year, I hope to hear from you again in the future!" commented Charlie.

Then, with a final wave, the two figures mounted their brooms and kicked off into the night, Norberta dangling carefully between them as they vanished into the stars. Harry and Lynne stood there for a moment, watching them disappear over the Forbidden Forest.

As they slipped back into the castle under the invisibility cloak, Harry whispered, half-laughing, half-exhausted, "We actually did it."

Lynne only nodded, her eyes scanning the shadows ahead. But something in the set of her shoulders told Harry she was finally relaxed.
​

---

The corridors were nearly empty by the time they slipped back into the Ravenclaw common room. A few other students had dozed off near the hearth, the air thick with the comfortable stillness of a castle wrapped in winter.

Harry peeled off the invisibility cloak and collapsed into an armchair, breathing hard, his heart still racing from the night's adventure.

"We actually did it." he whispered again, almost laughing.

Lynne pulled her hood down, scanning the common room with a habitually cautious eye. She didn't smile. Instead, she moved toward the high arched window, where the moonlight pooled across the stone like liquid silver.

Harry watched her for a moment, still giddy, then followed.

"You seem unhappy." he said quietly. He thought briefly that maybe she wanted to care for the dragon, seeing how she handled Norberta. It looked cute and now he realized that maybe Lynne grew fond of the dragon in the small time it hatched.

Lynne didn't answer at first. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, metal fingers clicking softly together. "Getting her out of the school was a priority. I'm not unhappy about it, I'm worried."

After a brief pause, she spoke. "Dragon eggs are not easy to find." she said. "Even in the darker parts of the world."

Harry frowned. "You think Hagrid's... friend just happened to have one?"

"No." she said, voice low. "Someone wanted it here. They wanted the distraction."

The words hung in the air between them.

Harry shifted uneasily. "But why?"

Lynne's gaze stayed fixed on the night sky, where two tiny dots were still faintly visible against the stars, growing smaller with every heartbeat.

"Because when you have a dragon near the castle..." she said slowly, "You stop looking at the doors that should stay locked."

Harry felt a chill crawl up the back of his neck.

"You think... they wanted the Stone?"

"I think someone used Hagrid's heart against him." Lynne said. "And wanted to cause problems for everyone else with the dragon."

Harry swallowed. The excitement of the night soured slightly in his stomach.

The castle outside the window looked so peaceful, frost sparkling on the rooftops, moonlight dusting the towers. But underneath, the stone halls twisted deep and dark. Secrets still slithered through the veins of Hogwarts.

"We have to be careful." Lynne said finally, turning away from the window.

Harry nodded, the weight of her words sinking in fully now.
​

---

The private room deep beneath the Slytherin common room smelled of damp stone and old parchment.

Lucius Malfoy leaned against a narrow pillar, impeccably dressed even here, a silver-topped cane resting against his shoulder. His face, bathed in the dim green torchlight, was unreadable.

He had been allowed entry on the grounds of being part of the board of Governors and using the excuse of a surprise inspection of the school. Before him, standing stiffly at attention, was Septimus Rowle, a seventh-year student, pureblood to the bone.

"You understand your task." Lucius said, his voice smooth as silk wrapped around steel.

Rowle nodded once, a shallow, clipped gesture.

"I do."

"You are not to be seen." Lucius continued. "You are not to fail."

Rowle's jaw tightened. "And the consequences?"

Lucius smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"If you succeed, your debts are forgotten. Your family restored to favor. If you fail however..."

He shrugged elegantly, as if the outcome hardly mattered to him. Rowle said nothing. He didn't need to. The hatred burning behind his eyes was enough. His brother Thorfinn should have played the game better.

"You will find him vulnerable." Lucius added, voice dropping low. "The wards are weaker there. The noise will cover much."

Rowle's mouth curled into something that might have been a grin.

"When?"

Lucius turned away, adjusting his gloves with absent precision.

"Soon enough."

The torches flickered once, casting long shadows that streched against the stones. Rowle left without another word. And Lucius, alone once more, allowed himself the faintest of smiles. He briefly entertained the idea of visiting Draco but decided to head back home, it hadn't been long since Christmas after all.​

---

"A dragon as a pet sounds lovely if you have limbs they can nib without an issue, don't you think? Please don't go do a Kettleburn on me though. Remember kids, never lose your limbs on accidents, always plan ahead" - Lynne if she had humor.

 

[Lucernello]

AN: motivation first.

If Fred and George could turn detentions into business opportunities, imagine what you can do with your day. Some doors open with Alohomora, others with kindness, it is worth trying both just to be sure.

Decided to post on american timezone for a bit to test, don't mind me.
Luce
​

---

Chapter 7 - Programmed

The morning of the match broke bright and filled with hoarfrost filled with hoarfrost, sunlight flashing off the frozen spires of the castle. Students poured into the Quidditch stands, house scarves flying, their breath steaming in the crisp air.

Harry adjusted his Ravenclaw scarf and leaned over the railing, his heart racing as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams circled above, brooms cutting sharp patterns against the sky. The crowd roared with every near-miss and every goal.

Hermione sat two rows back, already taking notes, while Lynne stood at the edge of their section, her eyes moving ceaselessly, cataloging movement in the stands with mechanical precision.

Lynne's posture was tense, shoulders slightly forward, one hand hovering near the sleeve that usually harbored her wand. She was looking uneasy but Harry didn't notice.

He was too busy leaning closer over the rail, following the Quaffle's rapid arc across the pitch. Then he heard it. A voice, faint and strained, carried up from the lower stairs beneath the stands.

"Help… "

Harry blinked, straightening. He glanced back at Hermione, but she was focused on her parchment. No one else seemed to react. Only Lynne, half-turned now, her metal fingers flexing, her body sharpening into awareness.

He heard it again. "Help… please… "

It was coming from under the stands. Somewhere close. Without thinking, Harry slipped through the crowd and began hurrying down the narrow wooden steps.

He didn't see Lynne immediately fall into step behind him, her footsteps silent against the boards. The noise of the crowd dimmed as he descended.

Below the stands, the light faded quickly, shadows crawling between the thick beams that supported the seating above. A few maintenance brooms leaned against the wall. Stray bits of dropped food and lost scarves littered the corners.

And there, near the far end, he thought he saw a movement.

"Hello?" Harry called out.

No answer. Just the soft creaking of wood overhead, and the faraway roar of the match. He took another step forward. That was when Lynne's voice snapped sharply behind him.

"Harry. Back away."

He turned and the spell hit him squarely across the chest.

The world shook violently. Pain exploded across his ribs. The ground rushed up to meet him. Harry crashed into a support beam, crumpling to the ground with a grunt, vision swimming, his wand skittering out of reach.

Above him, footsteps approached fast.

​

---

Lynne didn't hesitate. She moved faster than thought, her wand snapping out from her sleeve in a single fluid motion. The 7th-year Slytherin burst from the shadows, face twisted, another curse already forming on his lips, but he was too slow.

"Reducto."

Lynne's spell hit him first, an almost soundless snap of impact. The Slytherin's wand jerked from his hand, clattering uselessly to the floor as his hand was now nowhere to be found .

He cried loudly. Lynne was already there, crossing the gap between them in two strides. She drove her shoulder into his chest, slamming him against the support post with an impact that rattled the wood beams overhead.

The boy gasped, folding over. Her metal fingers closed around his hair keeping him from falling on the floor. There was a sharp, audible pop as her first connected with his face and he howled in pain.

"Diffindo."

She casted a cutting curse hitting his uninjured hand, successfully negating the threat, he wouldn't be able to grab his wand anymore with any hand. Lynne's wand was pressed to his forehead before the scream fully left his mouth.

"Stupefy." she said coldly.

The boy whimpered, crumpling to the ground. Lynne turned immediately to Harry. He was conscious, blinking dazedly, blood trickling from a shallow cut above his eyebrow.

She knelt, checking him with quick, clinical movements.

"Broken ribs . Internal bleeding " she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Shallow concussion ."

She aimed her wand at Harry. "Brachio emendo."

After fixing his ribs and checking him up again, she gave him a Wiggenweld Potion. She was sure that Harry would be alright, maybe a few hours in the hospital wing and more potions would help as well. Harry tried to speak but only managed a groan.

Above them, the crowd's cheers faltered as the commotion spread. Students and teachers began descending, drawn by the noise. Lynne stood in one smooth movement, stepping protectively over Harry, her wand still drawn, her body positioned squarely between him and the stunned attacker and whoever might show up.

The first people to arrive skidded to a halt at the sight. Hermione among them. For a moment, there was only silence. The Slytherin boy was lying unconscious on the ground, one of his hands missing and the other one with a huge cut, a lot of blood pooling over.

And Lynne was calm, motionless, standing watch over Harry like a silent, unbreakable sentinel. Someone puked.

​

---

The world stood still for a heartbeat. Students crowding down from the stands halted abruptly at the edge of the lower stairwell, faces wide-eyed and pale. Whispers rippled like static through the crowd. Someone gasped. A Ravenclaw prefect stepped back, visibly recoiling from the pool of blood slowly spreading beneath the crumpled Slytherin boy.

Professor Flitwick pushed through the gathering mass, his short frame moving with surprising speed for a man his age. His sharp eyes took in everything at once.

For a moment, he thought he had stepped onto a battlefield again. The Slytherin boy lay crumpled on the stone, blood staining the ground around him. His right hand was gone below the wrist, his forearm still twitching faintly from the trauma. His other arm, brutally slashed open. He was stunned unconscious and barely breathing.

Standing between the wounded boy and the fallen Potter was Lynne Volant, looking calm and still. Her metal hands glinted under the light of her wand, still lit by the last spell she had used, lowered but not yet sheathed. Her stance reminded him of professional duelists, guarded, cold and ready to strike again if needed.

"Clear back! All of you, clear back!" Flitwick barked, his high voice slicing through the rising panic. The students obeyed, stumbling backward.

Flitwick knelt beside the wounded Slytherin, muttering rapid spells under his breath. A soft golden glow issued from the tip of his wand, slowing the blood loss, sealing the worst of the damage. Flitwick moved on instinct, years of practice overriding his shock.

He stabilized the boy's injuries, sealing flesh, stanching blood. One wrong move and the boy would be dead within minutes. Only after the worst had been patched did he allow himself to look at Lynne properly. She hadn't moved. Flitwick approached slowly, cautiously, like one might approach a cornered hawk.

"Miss Volant." he said quietly. "Put your wand away. Please."

There was a heartbeat of tension, so thin he thought he might hear it snap. Then Lynne, mechanical as a clock winding down, tucked her wand away inside her sleeve. He took his wand out.

She hadn't reacted out of rage and she hadn't even reacted out of fear. He could almost admire it, if he weren't so chilled by the precision of her violence. He took a careful step toward her.

"I will check on mister Potter now."

Volant nodded once in relief, perhaps, or silent acknowledgment and stepped aside. Flitwick exhaled softly through his nose, relief mingling uneasily with something heavier. He examined the boy-who-lived briefly and concluded he wasn't in danger but he was still hurt.

"Escort Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing immediately!" he ordered two older Ravenclaw prefects.

They hesitated only a second before rushing forward to help Harry upright, supporting him between them as he stumbled slightly. They jolted into action, lifting Harry gently, speaking to him in low, urgent voices.

When he looked back at Lynne, she had already straightened, hands at her sides, eyes unfathomable. That, more than anything, made Flitwick's throat tighten. He saw it now, the truth that most students, even most professors, would miss. Lynne Volant was a weapon. By design.

"And Miss Volant." Flitwick said, his voice lower, grave. "You will accompany me. Now."

Lynne inclined her head once. Silent and obedient. But her expression was unreadable, cold as the frost still clinging to the castle walls. He levitated Rowle carefully and they started heading to the Hospital Wing. He was already dreading to think about the punishments.

The hospital wing was too bright. Harry blinked against the white light streaming in from the tall windows, his head pounding dully in time with his heartbeat. The world shifted slightly whenever he tried to sit up, so he gave up and stayed still.

Madam Pomfrey bustled nearby, her wand flashing silver as she worked over another bed, the unconscious form of Septimus Rowle. Bandages wrapped thick around his torso, his arms, his remaining hand.

Harry shifted slightly, wincing as his ribs protested. Footsteps approached. He turned his head just enough to see Professor Flitwick enter, his face unusually grave. Behind him came Professor Sprout, Professor Vector, and a tight knot of Ravenclaw and Slytherin prefects, whispering and arguing under their breath.

At the center of it all, still and expressionless, stood Lynne.

She hadn't been allowed to leave. Her arms were crossed neatly behind her back, her metal fingers glinting under the hospital wing's sterile lights. Her face betrayed nothing.

Flitwick called for quiet with a sharp gesture.

"This matter will be handled internally," he said, his voice clipped, sharper than Harry had ever heard it. "No student will speak of it outside this room. Am I understood?"

There were scattered nods. No one dared object. Harry tried to sit up again, wincing, but Flitwick motioned for him to stay down.

"There will be consequences." Flitwick continued. "Both parties are responsible for breaking school conduct, regardless of circumstance."

A Ravenclaw prefect stepped forward.

"Sir." she said carefully. "Volant says Rowle attacked Potter. Unprovoked, and he could have made serious damage."

Another voice, sharper, cut in. He assumed a Slytherin but he couldn't see him as he tried to turn only to feel pain in his chest.

"But look what she did to him!"

All eyes turned toward Lynne. Harry's fists clenched in the bedsheets. Flitwick's mouth tightened.

"Miss Volant." he said slowly. "You exceeded necessary force, I will not allow you to maim another student again."

Still, she said nothing. Not a word of protest. She stood like a statue.

"Your wand will be confiscated," Flitwick said. "Effective immediately."

A small, collective murmur rose among the students. Harry caught the glint of fear in some eyes, Ravenclaws and Slytherins alike. Lynne reached into her sleeve, withdrawing her wand with precision. She handed it over to Flitwick without a flicker of expression.

"I will take Mr. Rowle's as well and both you and him will serve detention." Flitwick added. "Separately. You will not cross paths again within these halls."

Harry opened his mouth, ready to argue, to say something, but Madam Pomfrey shushed him gently, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. Flitwick gave no room for discussion.

"It is done."

He turned, wand in hand, and the crowd began to disperse in uneasy silence. Hermione appeared at Harry's bedside a few minutes later, her face pale, a furrow between her brows.

"You're lucky." she said softly. "Madam Pomfrey said it was a concussion, a few cracked ribs. Nothing permanent."

Harry grimaced. "What about Lynne?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, where Lynne now stood alone, gazing quietly out one of the high windows.

"She's fine, but... Everyone's scared of her now." Hermione whispered. "Even the Ravenclaws."

Harry swallowed hard, he didn't know what to say. He felt Lynne loved magic and she just gave it away for some time in order to protect him, but he also thought that such violence was not necessary.

At the same time, he grimly remembered that he had promised to be better in order to protect his friends and ended up not being able to do anything about it. In fact, he felt guilty again, if he had stopped to think for a second before rushing in, he could have realized it was a trap or at least let a professor help instead if it wasn't.

Now, his best friend was wandless and he felt horrible about it.

​

---

The halls were quiet when Harry slipped out of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had gone to fetch another batch of potions, and no one noticed when he eased the door open and made his way down the corridor toward the empty classroom where they would usually practice together.

He knew where she would be. Lynne sat at the far end of the room, her back straight, her hands resting neatly in her lap. Her head snapped to him watching him as he approached.

"Hey." Harry said softly from the doorway.

She looked concerned for a second before masking it behind her usual demeanor. "You should be resting ."

"I know."

He came in slowly, the sound of his trainers barely echoing on the stone floor.

"I just…" He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

That made her blink at him.

"You're injured, I almost failed to protect you, I should be apologizing ." she said, voice quiet.

He shook his head. "They took your wand. It was my fault."

He sat across from her, folding his hands tightly in his lap.

"You did it to protect me." he added. "If only I hadn't rushed towards danger like that..."

Lynne stared at him for a moment. "I would do it again. "

He swallowed hard. "I wouldn't want you to. You hurt him… Badly."

She didn't flinch. "He meant to kill you. His intent was clear. "

"I…" Harry whispered. "It's just… I keep thinking that it shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Everyone makes mistakes, all that matters to me is that you are alive."

Harry looked down unsure what else to say, truth was whenever he tried thinking about what happened he would remember the blood, the screams and it made him feel ill.

Lynne's face was still and unreadable as always.

"Lynne. If I wasn't the one involved, would you have just stunned him?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the floor. "Was hurting him like that my fault too?"

Lynne tilted her head slightly. "I stopped when the threat was neutralized, there are ways to stop a stunner, I minimized the risks, it was not your fault, if I was alone I would have done the same ."

Harry blinked.

"I calculated the minimum force necessary to prevent him from trying again. Disabling his hands was the most efficient option. "

He looked up at her then, really looked.

"I don't know if I could've done that." he admitted.

"You're not meant to. "

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I want to protect you as well, but I don't want to hurt someone like that."

Then Lynne said "You shouldn't feel guilty for what others do for you. You are my best friend, Harry. I really don't mind parting with my wand for you, it's temporary either way. "

"But without it, you cannot do magic, you will fall behind on classes."

Truth is, he knew she didn't really care about classes, but he was thinking about what it would be if they would have taken his wand away. Being in the wizarding world without being able to do magic would be devastating for him.

She gave him a small smirk. "I still have my hands, they will give it back for exams, don't worry. "

Harry didn't smile at that, but he did feel something settle in his chest, not comfort exactly, but something like reassurance.

"Will you be alright?" he asked.

"I've endured worse. " she replied. "Besides… Hmm, can you keep a secret for me, Harry? "

He hesitated for a moment but finally nodded. "Of course."

She opened her cloak slightly, revealing the faint glint of a secondary wand tucked beneath the lining.

Harry's eyes widened. "You… you have a spare wand?"

"A secondary wand just in case, you didn't actually think I was unprepared, did you?"

He nodded slowly, quietly relieved.

"I don't want you to get in trouble for helping me again." he said.

She turned her gaze toward the window, where the snow had begun to fall again in soft, drifting flakes.

"Trouble... " she said, "It's a very small price to keep you alive. "

As always, Lynne left him feeling conflicted again.

​

---

Hogwarts rumour mill ran wild, painting the picture of a demonic first year that had ruthlessly attacked a 7th year, as if that was even possible. Virgil was sure it was all a plot to bully the skilled blonde girl. It was clear that the Ravenclaws who had tried to mess with her now found another accident to claim as her fault.

There were so many versions and theories of how it happened that it was ridiculous to even begin to think of them as the truth, and as always when it involved Harry Potter, be it his first flying lessons or the troll attack incident, no one actually knew what happened and greatly exaggerated the events.

Someone had it out for the first year which oddly enough didn't seem to think it was such a big deal, she was still walking the halls as if nothing was happening around her. Somehow she had befriended a Gryffindor that would follow her around and that seemed to be enough for her to not mind anyone else.

It was still refreshing to have the focus placed on those rumours, it seemed that the attacks that were building momentum had stopped for now and the Daily Prophet had nothing but speculations about the murderer "Crimson Wings", but nothing else. The distraction made him feel at ease.

He was still not going to join in with the rest though, he saw no need to bring a little girl down when she had clearly outsmarted the older year students, but it was sad to see how others were so quick to join in at pointing fingers at her. No one dared to make a move at her obviously.

If the rumour that she was capable of maiming a 7th year was true, no one had a chance at doing anything to her other than annoy her. Even if she had her wand confiscated, there were rumours her prosthetics were powerful enough to send people flying.

He laughed at the absurdity of the depth of the rumours, how low his mighty house had fallen if that was what they could come up with to try to ostracize a little girl that knew how to defend herself from older bullies.

The 6th year student made up his mind at that moment, he would befriend her as well, just to show her that not everyone was an idiot, it would be a nice distraction as well from the heavier topics.

He would have to find her first, which sometimes was difficult, but they were in the same house, surely it couldn't be that hard.

​

---

Hagrid wasn't used to feeling nervous in the Forbidden Forest. He had mapped almost the entirety of the place after all, he could understand the creatures that live there, and there were not many things that could spook him.

He had walked these paths since he was a boy, and no creature, no whisper of wind or rustling leaf, could ever truly frighten him. But tonight, something was off. He walked with a lantern in one hand and his crossbow slung across his back, the cold air pressing against his skin like damp wool. Fang padded quietly at his side.

Behind him, Harry's friend, Lynne, followed silently. She made no sound as she moved, not even when dry branches cracked underfoot. Her presence was a shadow behind his shoulder, constant and unreadable. It felt like he was being stalked by Nundu.

Well maybe he was exaggerating a bit, but the uneasy feeling was there with her behind him. He had seen her take care of a dragon without a moment of doubt and it had given her quite a cute look. That was totally gone tonight, replaced by the most unattached face he had seen on a child.

She hadn't spoken since they left the castle. Hagrid had tried, at first. He had tried to explain what they were looking for, someone was attacking the Unicorns and they had to figure out what was causing such a ruckus. But she looked uninterested in the reason behind their forest visit.

"Used to be, detentions meant scrubbin' cauldrons." he muttered aloud, more to fill the silence than to complain. "Now it's all forest and gloomy fog, eh?"

There had been no answer at all. He cleared his throat, glancing back once. She was looking at him. She wasn't even looking around, calculating and sharp. That made his stomach twist. They reached the old clearing by the stone arch. The place was quiet, but the air felt too still, too dense. Even the insects weren't singing tonight.

"Alright." Hagrid said, trying to sound lighter. "We'll circle the edge, then head back. Jus' routine, nothin' outta place, the herd should be close from here."

Lynne gave the smallest nod. They walked another five minutes before Hagrid noticed it. A presence. Faint but wrong. Like the forest had taken a breath and hadn't let it out. Then, up ahead, movement. A hooded figure, slim and rigid, like floating between the trees.

"Stay here." Hagrid said quickly, holding out an arm. He saw that the hooded being was after a unicorn, this was it, he was preparing the crossbow to aim and fired at the intruding creature. He fired when he was sure it was going to attack but instead of connecting, the creature just batted the bolt away with incredible ease.

This made him stop dead in his tracks, something that could bat a bolt out of the air was incredibly dangerous, and he was unsure of such a creature of humanoid form. They had to turn back and get back up. The creature continued without a care in the world, clearly intending in hunting down a unicorn. But Lynne didn't stop.

She was already moving, wand out, she shouldn't have one he briefly thought, and he noticed it was different from the last time she had visited. Hagrid cursed under his breath and followed. The hooded figure turned, his face not visible through the shadow threads. An eerie feeling crept through Hagrid's body.

He saw Lynne raise her wand.

"Confringo." he heard her say.

The blast hit the ground near the shadow's feet, sending up dirt and roots. It cried out, flying backwards. Another step and she was on him, her wand snapping forward.

"Depulso."

The creature raised their sleeves and dodged, barely. The spell grazed its shoulder, spinning it sideways into the trees. It made no sound as it got up without pausing for a second. Then a hissing sound echoed from the shadowy creature but Lynne didn't falter. She moved after him, her wand aimed, her free hand clenched in a white-knuckled fist.

Then as she was about to attack again it flew high and fast into the forest, like an animal running for its life. Hagrid saw Lynne not chase it as he expected. She stood there, watching, like she was listening to something else, her shoulders rising and falling slowly. Hagrid caught up, out of breath, crossbow drawn.

"What in Merlin's name was that?"

A sudden rustle nearby made them both freeze. From the shadow of the trees stepped three centaurs, their eyes luminous in the dark, their movements slow and grave. One stepped forward, a tall, silver-maned figure with a deep scar across his chest.

"You have disrupted the evil presence tonight." the centaur said.

Lynne lowered her wand but didn't step back.

"The stars shifted." another said behind him. "And not of their own accord."

"You walk a path not written in your blood." the scarred one continued. "A path not meant to be open. You do not belong here, forged girl."

Hagrid held up both hands.

"Firenze! She is just a student" he said carefully. "We were after the creature attacking the-"

"Your visit was written in the stars, Hagrid." the centaur cut in. "She was unseen."

Lynne met the centaur's gaze, challenging to try anything.

"Your fate is clouded, they shouldn't have brought you into this world." the centaur replied. "You are an abomination, just like the evil you chased away, leave these lands."

With that, the centaurs aimed their bows at her. Lynne stood silent. Hagrid exhaled, wiping his brow.

"Well, we can be reasonable, righ' friend?" he muttered. "We will leave in peace."

He saw Lynne's hand tightened once more around the backup wand. The centaurs nodded and slowly lowered their bows. Not wanting to anger the hoved creatures, he also lowered his crossbow and placed a hand on Lynne's shoulder, guiding her back.

He briefly wondered what the centaurs meant, but at the same time, he knew that they made no sense most of the time, and the girl didn't seem interested in what they said so he saw no reason to overthink it.

As they walked back through the darkened trees, Hagrid kept glancing sideways at the girl beside him, her face unreadable in the flickering light of his lantern. She hadn't said a word since the centaurs vanished, and maybe that was what unnerved him most. He'd seen danger before, seen violence too, but never in someone so young, and never with such purpose.

The kind of thing you saw in experienced hunters maybe, but not students. And for the first time, as the trees thinned and the castle lights came into view, Hagrid wondered if Lynne Volant really was human at all. Ironically, if she wasn't, Hagrid wanted to know what type of being she was and how he could take care of her.

"Hagrid ." She said breaking the silence. "How about you repay me the help I gave you with the dragon by keeping quiet about my spare wand? "

"Aye." he said after a pause, voice low with understanding.

Truthfully, he shouldn't have a wand either and he still had the broken pieces made into an umbrella to be able to still use magic, he was the perfect person to understand that no one that didn't deserve it should be stripped of their means to make magic.

"I'll keep quiet." he mumbled.

​

---

The infirmary had long since gone quiet for the night. Madam Pomfrey slept behind the curtain in her private chamber, a silencing charm stretched across the threshold.

The torches burned low, casting flickering shadows across the white-tiled floor. Septimus Rowle stirred in his bed. He wasn't fully awake yet. The painkillers made his head swim. One arm had been numbed to the shoulder. His other wrist was wrapped in spell-woven bandages.

They had regrown his bones on his hands, and gave him potions and essence to regrow his flesh. It had been painful and exhausting, but he was going to have his hands back with only scars for evidence.

He groaned and shifted. And found that he couldn't move. His eyes snapped open. A shape sat at the foot of the bed. Still. Silent. She didn't wear her school robes this time. Volant sat in the dark, elbows on her knees, chin resting lightly on her hand as she watched him wake.

"You're healing slower than expected. " she said softly. "Or perhaps you're just weaker than I thought. "

Rowle tried to sit up, but ropes he couldn't see pressed him back into the mattress. Wards flared once in pale white around them.

"You…" he rasped, voice dry. "You're not allowed to-"

She tilted her head. "Like you are allowed to kill a student? "

He fell silent. Her eyes flicked to his bedside table, to the wand he no longer had.

"I am going to give you a chance." she said, reaching into her cloak. "This will be your only warning. "

Septimus flinched as she drew something small and silver from inside her cloak. It was a thin and polished blade.

" I don't enjoy this. " Lynne said matter-of-factly, examining the edge. "But pain is language. And you need to speak clearly. Why did you attack Harry Potter?"

Rowle's mouth went dry.

"I was ordered." he blurted. "It wasn't me-"

She met his eyes, and he stopped.

"Who?"

He swallowed hard, shaking his head.

"I can't, my brother will kill me."

She reached forward, pressing the blade gently to the bandaged stump of his ruined hand. He screamed.

"I won't ask again. "

Rowle buckled instantly, the words tumbling out of him.

"Lucius Malfoy, he ordered it. He said if I did it, my family would be taken care of, that we'd be back in favor, please, I didn't know he was targeting you as a scapegoat, I failed, please stop!"

She pulled the blade back and set it down beside her on the bed, as if finished with it. Rowle sobbed quietly, the terror still raw in his throat. Lynne stood.

"You're lucky you failed." she said, voice low. "If something happens to Harry, you will die from here onwards, I don't care who does what. "

Rowle didn't reply. He couldn't. She leaned forward slightly, her voice just above a whisper.

"Think it through… perhaps it's best you don't remember we had this conversation at all."

He nodded frantically.

She unsheathed a different wand and Septimus' eyes went wide in surprise.

"Good. Obliviate."

​

---

Lucius Malfoy's study was quiet. Too quiet. The fire crackled softly in the marble hearth, casting golden light across polished bookshelves and carved serpentine wood. An untouched glass of firewhisky sat on the edge of his desk, fogging slightly in the cool air.

He stared at the envelope before him. Thick parchment. The Lestrange seal mocking him for his failure. He had known what it was before he even opened it. Now, the photograph lay on his desk.

A terrified Draco looked in horror at the one who took the picture, face bruised, hair disheveled and wet, robes torn like he'd been left in the dark for hours, his hand red, clutched to his chest, tears in his eyes.

Lucius was paralyzed at the scene. His hands were still folded together, his knuckles pale. But his jaw was clenched, a slow pulse ticking just below the corner of his eye.

She hadn't signed it. She didn't need to. The message was clear.

Try that again, and next time, I won't return him.

His fingers slowly reached for the edge of the photograph. He turned it over. Nothing on the back. Not even a bloodstain.

"She is waging war." he muttered. "I am not prepared."

"You already started one."

Lucius looked up sharply.

The door hadn't opened. He hadn't heard anyone enter. But Thorfinn Rowle stood by the fireplace now, broad-shouldered and glaring, his dark coat damp from winter frost. His wand was still holstered, but his hand hovered too close to it for comfort.

"You sent my brother to die." Thorfinn said. "You fed him to that creature, just because you lent me some money to make my escape of azkaban."

Lucius stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve.

"I gave him a task that would have repaid your debt in full. He failed."

"You used him." Thorfinn growled. "You knew she wasn't normal. That thing-"

"That girl." Lucius interrupted, sharply. "Is very much alive. And she made her position abundantly clear. She has been smart and ruthless so far, I underestimated her."

He gestured to the photo on the desk.

"I failed to recognize she is not playing fair. I wanted to believe that she was honorable and a puppet of Dumbledore to help the boy-who-lived somehow."

Thorfinn studied his face for a moment.

"You are recognizing your mistake at least. You will not send my brother to die because of your failure. Galleons I can pay eventually, I won't pay with the life of my brother."

"Agreed, I cannot make another move on her either way for now."

Thorfinn stepped forward, eyes blazing. "So what? We let her walk through the school untouched? Pretending to be a student while she breaks bones and slits throats?"

Lucius held up a hand. "We do nothing."

Thorfinn froze. Lucius looked down at the photograph once more.

"Not yet."

There was silence. A long one.

"She doesn't know who she's dealing with, I will have vengeance for my little brother." Thorfinn muttered.

Lucius shook his head slowly.

"No." he said. "We didn't know who we were dealing with, now it's becoming clear."

Thorfinn left without a word, the door closing behind him like a final sentence.Lucius stood in the silence for several long moments, the photograph still lying face-up on his desk.

Draco's crying face stared back at him, bruised and slack, afraid. He reached forward and turned it over again, not because he couldn't bear to look, but because he needed to think. Coldly. Without the ache behind his ribs twisting his logic.

One thing was certain, he had to keep this from Narcissa. She loved the boy too much. If she knew he'd been bound and hidden, if she saw that photo, the look in her eyes would not be grief but fury. And fury, in her, was harder to stop than any curse. With a swift motion, he burned the photograph with a flick of his cane.

He'd already hidden the first wave of whispers. The ones about Lynne's duel. The ones about the wand confiscation. Originally he was ready to go to the board of governors with the fight, blame the girl and have her expelled, it was a move that would take time and make people leave her alone.

Now that plan was scrapped, it was too risky, if Dumbledore were to deny the request to expel her, she would have plenty of time to target Draco, or even Narcissa to get to him. She knew who orchestrated the attack.

No, having her at Hogwarts was better, occupied with playing friends with the boy-who-lived and not hunting the Malfoy family down. No one could ever know how deeply he had miscalculated. And yet… he had. Lynne Volant wasn't a girl. She was a soldier bred by the last war, skilled with sharp wit and ruthless precision.

He had already sent word to Gringotts. There were no vaults in her name. No family holdings. His contacts at the ministry informed him she had no listed bloodline in any of the pureblood registries. No estate or guardian. Nothing.

Somehow the Ministry had no record of her birth. No wand registration. No magical guardianship. Not even a signature on Hogwarts' enrollment parchment. Who had admitted her? He wondered. And why had no one asked?

He considered sending someone after her. A private team with a curse-breaker and an assassin, someone who could unravel what she was, and how to break her. But with no idea where to find her it was going to be difficult.

Every operation he thought of ended the same way, blood, backlash, Dumbledore's scrutiny. He couldn't afford that. Not now. And if she had sent that photograph, what else had she kept?

The thought made his fingers twitch, his son didn't send a letter to him these days, but he also didn't receive letters from the other families in Slytherin he would usually keep in contact with.

So Lucius concluded that he was let go by her and for some reason didn't want to tell his father what happened or worse he was obliviated. His brain went into overdrive in desperation and anxiety. He would have to come up with a solution soon. For his family.​

---

The Ravenclaw dormitory windows were letting a bit of moonlight in, casting shadows on the floor. It was here that Lynne sat, arms resting across the ledge, her fingers curled loosely against the stone. Looking out the window for some reason gave her clarity at times.

She had broken into Harry's room to watch him sleep peacefully and remind herself that she hadn't failed her mission yet. Her metal hand tapped a melody she didn't know the name of.

She closed her eyes. She could still hear the impact. The sound of Harry hitting the stone, the edge of the wooden beam splitting. Her body had moved before she thought, before she calculated. That had been new.

It was unsettling. She should have felt nothing, but she had felt something. She was trained to act without hesitation. But at that time a surge of panic went through her body. And now at times she could hear a voice, mixing in with her thoughts. It was faint but definitely not hers..

"He shouldn't have been hurt."

Her eyes snapped open.

"Not again."

She stood abruptly, her footfall louder than it should have been. She scanned the room where the two boys slept. There was nothing there, but her breath had caught, caught like a gear inside a jammed mechanism.

She pressed a hand to her temple.

" Stop ." she whispered.

The voice faded, she didn't know whose voice it was. It wasn't hers, it wasn't her master and it wasn't her mission. It was something else.

Memories of a few years of life came to her, memories that weren't hers. The shadows in the dream moved like smoke, curling through a space Lynne couldn't see clearly. She needed a recalibration soon, luckily the school year was coming to an end and she would be going back soon.

​

---

His sheets were damp with sweat, and the room was too quiet. The dormitory showed only darkness and no sounds strangely came to his senses. He would usually hear the soft snores of Anthony. He sat up slowly, rubbing at his scar. It didn't hurt. Not exactly. But it felt warm. Something was coming, and it was a rather ominous feeling.

All of a sudden cold sensation sat on his forehead. It jolted him awake in an instant and he scrambled to find his glasses. Once he had them on he saw Lynne looking at him with a worried face. She was just sitting on his bed as if that was a normal thing to do.

"Nightmare, Harry? " she whispered.

"Bloody hell, what are you doing in my room?"

"I was watching you sleep, of course." her gaze softened.

He flushed at her statement, as if nothing awkward was said.

"So what woke you up, you alright?"

He looked at her for a moment then shrugged.

"Just a dream. Since when do you break in my room to watch me sleep?"

She went thoughtful for a few seconds.

"I began after the holidays."

"You are going to wake up Anthony at some point and it's going to be awkward."

She snorted, "He sleeps like a rock, I could transfigure an elephant and have him roar like a lion and he would sleep through it. "

Harry blinked. What a strange thing to wake up to, Lynne making a joke.
​

---

"I am not saying I solve problems with a knife. I'm saying the problems stop once I use it." - Lynne probably.

 

[Lucernello]

MP: If Neville can survive Potions class, you can survive anything. Quirrell went ahead and hid a Dark Lord under a turban. If he can manage that, you can manage to hide your nerves and get through the day.

You got this.
- Luce
​

---

Chapter 8 - Short Circuit

The dream had left Harry restless. He didn't mention it during breakfast. The Hall was too loud, too normal. The clink of spoons, the rustle of owl wings, the easy chatter of students, it all grated against something inside him that just wouldn't settle.

He had barely touched his food. Hermione noticed first, she had been spending more time at the Ravenclaw table instead of her own table lately.

"Are you not hungry?"

Harry shrugged. Lynne, across the table, said nothing. But her eyes flicked up when he stood.

"Let's go." she said quietly.

They didn't need to ask where. The walk to the courtyard was silent, the wind brisk but not cruel. Frost lingered on the stone, glittering in the early light. They sat near the edge of the wall, where the sun warmed the stones just enough to be bearable.

"I had a dream the other day." Harry said finally.

Hermione leaned in. "A nightmare?" she asked.

"Maybe, it's making me feel very uneasy, like something is about to happen soon, my scar has been hurting at times as well."

"Would you like to go to the hospital wing?" Lynne asked.

"I don't think that will solve it."

"Honestly, I understand you, Harry. I'm stressing over exams too, I definitely should have begun studying hard earlier." Hermione said.

"You will do fine, Hermione. You answered all of my quizzes perfectly."

Lynne had somehow prepared exams for every class, with every topic that was covered, and even some questions that would help as extra points. Harry had tried his best but some questions were just too hard. Nevertheless Hermione had answered everything well enough but was still fussing over the oncoming exams.

While Lynne and her kept mumbling about the upcoming tests, Harry couldn't stop thinking that things were not fine and that something bad was going to happen soon. It had nothing to do with the exams, Actually he was confident he would do well enough.

They had done a lot of studying throughout the year, and even some of their housemates, like Anthony, Terry and Padma had joined them to review some of the classes, they had discovered that Lynne would answer everything that she was asked without fail. It was fun times as well and he felt that he was gaining more friends in the house of the ravens.

So why was he feeling so uneasy when everything else aside from the stone mystery was going great, he wondered. Maybe he was just tired of pretending it would sort itself out. Pretending the professors had it handled, with everything that had happened, specially the troll incident, and what Lynne told him about what happened in the forbidden forest.

Harry and Lynne went back to the common room, the fire burned low, casting long and lazy shadows against the walls. They would have two weeks of exams to worry about first before the stone, they plan to get information from Hagrid eventually while trying to get their mind focused on their education first.
​

---

The sky was bruised with clouds when they made their way to Hagrid's hut in the afternoon. The wind had picked up over the grounds, carrying with it the faint scent of wet soil. Hogwarts loomed behind them, distant and quiet as if holding its breath.

Hagrid welcomed them in with his usual booming voice, but there was something uneasy in the way his eyes flicked towards them. The inside of the hut was warm, cluttered as ever, with Fang asleep by the fire and kettle whistling on the stove.

They talked over steaming mugs of tea, the trio carefully guiding the conversation, eventually the question slipped out. Harry had been waiting to ask, unable to keep it buried.

"We know, Hagrid. We know what is behind Fluffy. We think a professor is trying to steal it, and we don't know who to go to. Do you think we should warn Dumbledore?"

Hagrid stuttered and tried to brush it off with praise for the headmaster, with the stone being safe, that no one would get past Fluffy, but it didn't take long before they had what they needed. Hagrid slipped and they now knew that several Professors had placed enchantments there.

By the time they returned to the Great hall, their minds went into overdrive trying to figure out which one of them could have motives to go after the stone and how to prepare their case to accuse them to the headmaster.

"So, several professors laid down a defense, it's not just Fluffy up there. One of them is going for the stone, I'm sure." Harry whispered.

Lynne's eyes were turned towards him, the book she had on her lap forgotten, her metal fingers were tense twitching slightly, as if her thoughts sparked restless movement in them.

"You should let me handle it."

Harry sat up straighter. "What? No. We are a team."

"I'm trained for this, Harry. It could be very dangerous."

He frowned. "That's exactly why I have to help, I cannot leave you to face this alone."

The silence after that was heavy. Lynne stared at him for a long time before finally, with the smallest trace of guilt behind her composed expression she spoke again.

"We are going to spy and get close to the person who may be working to bring back the Dark Lord. If I let you go with me, you have to follow my orders. No rushing in."

"Deal." He said without hesitation.

"That goes for you as well, Hermione."

And there was no room for discussion. That evening they spent their time trailing professors, taking their exams and taking notes. Harry's journal was now full with details of comings and goings, schedules and professors' habits.

They started with the most suspicious one, Snape. They had to follow him around with the cloak as it seemed he knew exactly where Lynne was at all times. When they couldn't gather more information other than he didn't like grading exams they moved to the others.

Harry hadn't meant to linger inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, he was looking for clues on Quirrell's things. He searched through his drawers, desk and different possessions but found nothing to do with the Stone.

He got trapped when Professor Quirrel entered his office abruptly. Hiding below the cloak trapped into a corner of the room, Harry did his best to hold his breath and reduce the noise of his beating heart.

Quirrell began muttering to himself, but the words were too deliberate, too low. And there was no stammer.

"I have done what you asked." the professor said, his voice strained. "The girl was just too aware, I couldn't kill her, she is too dangerous. She knows something, she keeps watching me wherever I go."

Harry froze, every nerve buzzing.

"I ordered you to remove her!" came the answer. It wasn't Quirrell, it was colder, sharper. Like glass dragged over marble, yet barely louder than a whisper. "You should have killed her already."

A silence stretched, and Harry could hear only the faintest rustle of cloth, he also saw Quirrell shifting, almost trembling.

"I… I will try again."

"No, we focus on the plan now. One girl won't stop us. You will kill her if she stands in our way. We will go for the stone soon, then we can deal with other problems."

"As you say, master."

Harry waited, heart pounding, trying to slow his fast paced breathing, doing his best not to do a single movement. His mind racing, after a few seconds, Quirrell left his office, for Harry it felt like an eternity. He waited for a moment to make sure he was not coming back and quietly left the office, then hurried down in search of his friends.
​

---

They were halfway up the castle stairs when Lynne felt the shift behind them. She turned her head and in a blink of an eye, had her wand ready in the face of an older student, falling into step beside her, hands tucked into his cloak pockets, his expression unconcerned under the pale hue of Lynne's wand.

"Busy evening?" he asked, glancing between the three of them.

Harry blinked. "Do we know you?"

"Hi." Hermione offered, awkwardly.

He ignored them and looked at Lynne who was now lowering her wand, clearly assessing he was not a threat.

"I've been meaning to talk to you."

Lynne stared back for a moment.

"Must it be now, Fowler?" she asked.

"I'm not here to throw stones." he said. "You've had enough of that lately."

He gave a short breath of laughter, not mocking, just tired.

"Look. I know how Ravenclaws talk, they like being right, they like order and competition. And when someone doesn't fit, we cut them out and call it logic."

Harry frowned slightly, still anxious as they still had to go tell Professor Flitwick about Quirrell. Lynne kept her eyes on him, studying.

"I remember when they started whispering about me." Virgil added, softer now. "After what happened to my family, I tried to do my best, but I was made an outcast ."

His voice dropped lower, but there was steel underneath it.

"They never expected me to outlast and ignore everyone. But it has been lonely, which is why I wanted to offer you my support, as I would have wanted myself when I entered school."

A long pause made the silence uncomfortable.

Lynne's eyes flicked toward him, just briefly.

"I already have friends." she said.

"Yes, but why not more? I could be of assistance." he replied.

They didn't shake hands, or vows. No awkward smiles to seal the deal. Lynne just nodded in quiet understanding.

"Then if you want to support us, we would use help convincing professor Flitwick, we are on our way to his office, something dangerous is happening on school grounds."

"Lead the way then, no need to explain." he answered.

Having an older student with them might push the odds of being taken seriously in their favor, and Harry was happy to have a new friend in their group. They were friendly with most of their housemates but they had kept their distance because they were scared of Lynne. This lifted the group's unease for a bit.

The now four member group headed for Flitwick's office with haste. They now had evidence and they were ready to let the professor know of the danger. Maybe he could also notify Professor Dumbledore.

The corridor outside Professor Flitwick's office felt colder than usual, the torches flickering with jittery orange light as Harry, Hermione, Lynne and Virgil stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the carved oak door. None of them spoke at first.

Hermione shifted her weight, fidgeting with her hands. "He'll listen. He has to."

Virgil nodded, more reserved. "He always says students should speak up if they're troubled. He means it… I think."

Harry glanced at Lynne, whose expression remained unreadable. She wasn't fidgeting or pacing like the rest of them, just watching the door with that calm intensity she always had before something big happened.

Harry raised a hand and knocked.

A moment later, the door swung open and Professor Flitwick appeared, blinking behind his tiny spectacles. "Oh! Goodness, what a crowd. Come in, come in."

They filed inside, the room was cozy and stacked high with books. Enchanted instruments quietly humming from the shelves. A kettle whistled in the corner as Flitwick waved his wand to silence it.

"To what do I owe this visit?" he asked, hopping onto a cushion behind his desk. "It's not often I get a delegation from my own house and a lion with them."

Harry took a breath. "Professor, we think Professor Quirrell is going to steal what's being guarded on the third floor, the philosopher's stone is not safe."

Flitwick blinked surprised. "Pardon?"

"We've put the pieces together." Hermione said quickly. "We know what is being stored in the castle, safe behind enchantments provided by several Professors, but what if one of you knows about them already and how to get past them?"

Lynne didn't speak, but she stared straight at Flitwick. Her silence made her point louder than words.

"We even heard him talk about it, we spied on several Professors and Quirrell was talking to a voice I didn't recognize. He must be the one behind the troll attack as well!" Harry continued.

Flitwick raised a hand gently. "I understand you're worried, I do. And if what you said is correct and Professor Quirrell is trying to steal the stone, he is going to face more resistance than he anticipated. Hogwarts has layers of magical protections, very powerful ones. Besides Professor Dumbledore himself added an enchantment of his own to protect the stone. It will keep it safe I assure you."

"But what if he knows how to get past them already?" Harry asked. "What if he manages to get it for Voldemort?"

Flitwick recoiled at the mention of the dark lord. "This is not something for students to involve themselves in." a hint of steel entering his little voice.

Virgil was shocked at the revelation of what was being kept at the school, and how a couple of first years had come up with what was going on at the third corridor, and that it was much more dangerous than he originally expected. And now he looked visibly deflated.

"Sir, what if the students are the ones in danger as well? What happens if Quirrell is indeed working to get the stone and is frustrated? What if he takes a kid with him to face the protections?"

Flitwick gave him a long look. "Then the professors will protect them, and no one should be after curfew at all, you shouldn't worry until Professor Dumbledore comes tomorrow. We can explain to him everything you said and we can see what he decides to do with this information."

"If he is gone, then we are all in danger, Professors included."

Flitwick adjusted his spectacles. "He had an emergency meeting, he will be back in the morning and we can resolve this. This conversation is over, I won't have rumours or accusations. I suggest you all return to your dormitories and leave this to the staff."

They stood to go, but as soon as Virgil got up a flash of light erupted from his pocket. Blinding all of them momentarily. When Harry regained his sight he saw a small pebble that was shining red as if it had been heated in an oven.

"Ugh, sorry Professor. I forgot I had that in my pocket, the Wesley twins pranked me with one of those things and I thought I had deactivated it."

With a small wave Flitwick dismissed them. The news obviously made the group desperate, that meant that Quirrell was moving tonight, and their own head of House was not taking them seriously.

As they were about to return Virgil approached Lynne and whispered something in her ear and placed something in her hands, Harry couldn't see well what it was. Then marched to the common room leaving the trio behind.

"He gave me my wand back." Lynne said finally with a smile on her face.

Harry looked hopeful for the first time in hours. "I don't think we can wait any longer. Dumbledore is not in the castle, it's going to be tonight. Quirrell is going to try to get the stone."

"We will stop him." Said Hermione. "I will sneak out of my common room and meet you guys close to the third floor."

She quickly left, leaving the pair of Harry and Lynne to review what could be the enchantments placed by each Professor.
​

---

The torches lining the third-floor hallway flickered with nervous firelight as Harry and Lynne waited outside the forbidden floor near the stairs, their breath quiet and their ears tuned to the emptiness around them.

Footsteps echoed fast from the far end of the corridor. Hermione emerged from the shadows, slightly out of breath, her wand gripped tightly in one hand.

"You're late." Harry whispered.

"I had to petrify Weasley." she said, brushing hair from her eyes.

"You what?" Harry blinked.

"He wanted to follow me." Hermione huffed. "He was pacing in the common room with that look, you know the one, and I knew he was going to sneak after me. So I used the Full Body-Bind Curse. He's fine. I propped him up near the fireplace and left a note apologizing."

"You left a note?" Harry muttered.

"I was in a rush!"

Lynne tilted her head. "You could've stunned him. Faster."

Hermione frowned. "That's a bit much."

Lynne gave a shrug, unbothered. "Depends how long you want him out of the way."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Alright. Let's just hope he doesn't find us later."

Hermione took a breath and looked at the locked door. "We're really doing this."

"We are." Lynne said simply, her voice calm and firm.

They crept through the silent corridor under the cloak's cover, their footsteps muffled by Lynne's careful enchantments. The door to the forbidden corridor on the third floor loomed ahead like a secret too big to stay hidden. It was cooler than the rest of the castle, and unnaturally quiet.

Their footsteps echoed faintly on the stone floor, every breath sounding louder than it should in the charged silence. As they approached the end of the hall, the distant sound of soft harp music drifted toward them like a lullaby forgotten by time.

Harry opened it quietly. The low growl of the three-headed dog rumbled like distant thunder. Fluffy stirred, but he was sleeping soundly.

The enormous three-headed dog lay coiled, its bulk enough to fill half the chamber. The beast's fur was dark and matted in places, more bear than dog in sheer mass, and each massive head rose and fell in rhythm with the others. Drool pooled beneath its three muzzles, nostrils flaring slightly with each snore.

Despite its fearsome reputation, the creature looked… oddly peaceful. A golden harp stood just beside the platform, gently plucking its own strings without aid. An enchantment, clearly.

Lynne's eyes narrowed. "Someone's already been here." she whispered.

"The music, someone enchanted the harp." Hermione added, stepping lightly closer. "Must've been Quirrell. He left it playing to keep the dog asleep."

Harry couldn't help but stare. Even asleep, Fluffy was terrifying. One wrong move, one broken note, and those massive heads could wake in an instant. The size of its paws alone could shatter ribs.

"How do you even keep something like that fed?" he muttered.

"I don't think you ask questions like that at Hogwarts." Lynne replied quietly, checking the shadows. "We need to move before the spell fades."

They approached the trapdoor. Hermione was already crouching down, inspecting it. "It's quite dark down there, I cannot see the bottom." she murmured, fingers tracing the heavy iron latch.

"I'll go first." she said. "Wait for my go." She knelt, wand in hand.

Lynne looked down, then without hesitation swung her legs over and dropped into the darkness below. She gave them a soft reply to come down.

The harp gave a faint stutter, one note faltered and then the music stopped. Harry and Hermione froze. One of Fluffy's ears twitched. A massive paw shifted.

"Hurry." Harry hissed. "Jump."

A dark void yawned beneath them, air rushing up cold and damp. They landed on something soft. As they landed blue fire engulfed them and they fell once more to the floor.

"What was that?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

"Devil's Snare." Hermione said "Or what is left of it."

The plant had recoiled instantly, some of its tendrils burning.

They heard in the distance the sound of flaps, like a swarm of birds. But when they approached the next room, they saw they were keys, enchanted winged ones that shimmered in the torchlight like darting stars. A single broom in the middle of the room.

"I assume we have to get the key to this door. It must be one of those." Harry said.

"Alohomora." Hermione tried the spell on the door but it didn't work.

"I see it."

Lynne jumped first, grabbing the broom without hesitation.

"I'll get it." she said, eyes narrowed.

She was immediately attacked by the swarm of keys as she took off. She batted them away with one hand while accelerating for the one she saw as the right one. It was an old key that had an injured wing. She weaved between the flitting shapes with surgical precision, catching the old key in a clean snatch before dropping it into Harry's hand.

"Go."

Harry quickly tried it and the locked door swung open. They moved inside as Lynne let go of the broom midair and landed with a loud thumping noise. The keys seemed to only attack the one on top of the broom and they began flying idly as she hopped off.

They closed the door leaving the keys behind.
​

---

The next room was a massive chamber stretched out before them in black and white marble, polished to a mirror shine. Towering chess pieces stood motionless on either side of the board, each carved from stone and exuding a silent menace. The air was colder here. The only sound was the faint echo of their footsteps as they stepped into the room.

A heavy click resounded behind them, the door sealed shut.

"A real-life game." Harry whispered. "This is a transfiguration spell."

"We have to play." Hermione said, stepping forward and studying the pieces. "We have to take the places of real chess pieces."

"Which ones?" Harry asked, but Lynne had already stepped onto a square.

"Knight. Duro." she said simply, drawing her wand and tapping her shoulder. Her robes shimmered and darkened, almost like armor.

Harry took the bishop's position, and Hermione the rook's. The board came to life with a grinding of stone on stone. The opposing black pieces stirred, silent, watchful as the game began.

It wasn't fast. Every move mattered. Hermione's lips were tight with focus, Harry's hands balled at his sides between turns, and Lynne advised both of them regularly. Her knight's role came with the brunt of battle.

The first piece she struck was a bishop. Her spell split it cleanly down the center. When the enemy retaliated, the rook came down like a hammer. Lynne blocked it mid-swing with a shield charm, her body thrown back across the square. Her metal limbs sparked where she hit the stone but held.

She stood, blood trickled from her hairline. Harry gasped, she wiped it away and prepared to defend again, the piece failed to break her so now it was just looking for a fight.

"We're cornered, I'm not good at this." Hermione breathed in panic.

Lynne raised her wand, casting a glance at Harry. "I've had enough of this."

Before they could stop her, she took three steps forward.

"Bombarda."

The spell struck the white queen, causing an explosion that sent shards of stone flying. The queen was obliterated, leaving a smoking pair of legs in its place. The remaining white pieces hesitated, as if reconsidering their programmed responses.

Hermione gasped. "Lynne, you're not supposed to-"

"Bombarda!" Lynne interrupted, already targeting the next piece. Another explosion, another piece destroyed.

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances but said nothing. The path was being cleared, albeit unconventionally. With the opposing side in disarray, they just stood while Lynne unleashed spell after spell.

The remaining white pieces froze, then bowed, acknowledging defeat. Lynne lowered her wand, smoke curling from its tip.

"Let's go."

They went into the next room, a troll lay dead, and the smell was foul. This turned Lynne's look to one of concern. She kept going forward and the pair followed.

The next chamber was cold and narrow, the walls lined with tall, empty shelves and a single table in the center. Upon it stood seven glass bottles of varying sizes and colors, each marked with a tiny rune.

A scroll sat beside them, inked in flowing script. Hermione stepped forward and scanned it quickly.

"It's a riddle." she murmured. "Logic, not magic."

Harry wiped blood from his cheek, eyes darting between the bottles and Lynne, who stood perfectly still, already scanning their placement, the candlelight catching the worn edges of her coat.

"We have to pick the right potion to go forward." Hermione said, thinking aloud. "Only one lets us through the black fire ahead. Another will send us safely back."

Lynne didn't speak. She stared at the bottles as if seeing through them. After a moment, she pointed to the third on the left.

"This one lets you through."

Hermione blinked. "Are you sure? We haven't even-"

"I'm sure."

Harry stepped forward, but Lynne turned to block him.

"You'll drink the one that takes you back, which is this one." she said, pointing to another bottle.

"No." His voice cracked slightly. "We're not leaving you."

"You've done enough, think about what the dead troll means." she replied, not unkindly.

"You said I could help. That I could stay."

Lynne looked at him for a long moment. Then, softly, "You've already helped more than I ever expected. But I cannot know for sure I can protect you in there."

Hermione's lip trembled. "You don't have to go alone."

"I do." she said. "And I will."

Before either of them could react, she lifted her wand and whispered a word neither of them caught. A soft shimmer, like falling snow, drifted over them both.

Harry's eyes went wide. "Lynne, what did you-?"

The world tilted. His limbs went heavy.

Hermione's voice slurred "No…wait…"

And then, both of them collapsed gently against the far wall, asleep, safe. Lynne stepped back. Her hands trembled, just for a moment, then steadied again. She took the third potion and drank. She stepped through the black fire, and into peril.
​

---

She came through the flames like a ghost, silent and unburnt. Her eyes fixed on him with a focus that made Quirrell's breath catch. He was trying to figure out how to extract the stone from the Mirror, that cursed headmaster had placed all of those defenses to annoy him, the cursed artifact was the real challenge, nothing more.

He knew that she was following him, and thus was not surprised that she was the one who would come after him that same night. But something about her today was totally wrong, her sharp eyes were trained on him, her wand ready and a curse soon left her lips.

He straightened and evaded, surprised at first then angry at the small brat. They traded a few spells before both paused for a breath, calculating.

"Brave of you to come alone." he said, letting the smoothness return to his voice.

She didn't answer, just kept her arm raised, her wand glowing softly.

"You had so much potential for a first year, I will give you that, but your foolishness led you here, and now you will die."

He unleashed a fury of spells, cutting, reductor and different curses meant to pierce her shields and deal enough damage to slowly take her down. He felt the twist of annoyance flare in his chest.

"Expulso!"

The blast scorched towards her, a quick, cracking explosion that had dropped more than one target before, learnt from Antonov himself. But she moved like water, darting to the side, metal limbs hitting the ground with a harsh scrape.

She retaliated instantly, three spells in quick succession, no flash and no flourish.

"Confringo, Diffindo, Depulso."

Quirrell blocked and ducked but the third caught his sleeves again making him spin in his place. He stumbled but didn't fall.

"Sloppy." his master growled.

"I'm trying, master, she is too quick." he snapped under his breath.

She was already circling, no words said, he felt she was not dueling a student, much less a first year, as he deflected another cutting curse.

"Reducto!" He lashed out again, aiming for her center but she evaded with ease.

"I will handle her." he heard.

"You are not strong enough for this, mast-" he was interrupted as a yellow curse smashed against his shields and threw him backwards.

He felt his body slowly stop responding to him. He was now a passenger in his own body as his master stood and started throwing curses and transfiguring the stone of the now broken floor, attacking the girl relentlessly. He finally caught her with debris and then a Banishing spell sent her flying against the steps of the room.

She didn't scream, but landed hard, falling across the marble, one leg beneath her bent in the wrong direction. She stood up still even after the hard hit and he felt his master frustration deepen. A black liquid dripped to the ground where she stood.

"You are a formidable foe, for a first year, but you are nothing against me. Crucio!"

Damn, there is no escaping now, he thought, if the castle wards were active correctly, then an unforgivable inside it's walls would be detected easily. But as he was lost in planning ahead, he felt fear and confusion from his master.

He looked ahead and the girl was not screaming and she was barely twitching, in fact she had raised her wand again, conjuring multiple butterflies that seemed to fly harmlessly in front of her.

"Clever. But that won't save you."

"Rubescens." the girl whispered and her butterflies turned scarlet red.

"Avada Kedavra!" The killing curse bolted from his wand but the green curse was intercepted by one of those butterflies, falling to the ground in the process.

"Expelliarmus, Confringo." she retaliated, but his body evaded the spells once more

"Expulso."

Her butterflies now blown away by the explosion wouldn't shield her anymore. But as he thought his master would finish her, he felt his body again and quickly realized, his master lost control of his body, he was too weak now. It was up to him.

"Confringo." The explosion spell caught her stuck leg, throwing shards of metal in all directions and sending the girl to the floor once again and finally she did not stand back up.

He was about to use a reductor curse on her just to be sure when movement on the top of the stairs caught his attention. A gasp escaped from his mouth. The boy.
​

---

Harry's head throbbed. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out. The chamber around him was still and silent, the flicker of torchlight casting uneven shadows across the stone. The cold had sunk into his skin, his limbs felt heavy, like they were wrapped in fog.

Then he remembered the spell that put him to sleep and how Lynne went there by herself. He jolted upright and saw that Hermione still lay beside him, breathing slow and steady, unconscious but unharmed. Her wand had rolled a few inches away, and he pushed it gently back into her hand before standing.

He tried to wake her up but no matter how much he shook her, she wouldn't open her eyes. The black flames were still there and the potion that Lynne had taken now was refilled. He thought that it made sense as Quirrell had probably gone inside already and they still had the potions for them to pass as well.

"We are coming back for you." He whispered to Hermione and drank the potion.

He went through the flames, stepping through. What he found on the other side stopped him cold. The air stank of smoke and burnt oil, the room was a ruin of shattered stone and scorched walls, a wand lay abandoned on the steps on the floor. He spotted Quirrell wand in hand, breathing heavily, and Lynne on the ground, there was what seemed to be blood scattered through the floor.

She was missing a leg from the knee down, her coat was torn and her hair was stuck to the side of her face. He could see that one of her hands was trembling against the floor as if trying to push herself up.

"Lynne!" Harry called rushing forward.

Quirrell moved, stopping him.

"You." the professor said, voice low and cold. "You will help me get the stone." Quirrell stepped closer.

"I should thank you." He murmured. "Come, stand in front of the mirror. Now!"

Harry didn't move as he reached out. He was about to grab him by his shoulder and Harry didn't think, just reacted. He raised his arm to block, trying to bat Quirrell's hand away. His hand grazed Quirrel's skin and that small contact sent the Professor screaming. It sounded almost inhuman.

Quirrell jerked back like he'd touched molten metal, his skin blistered, his wrist twisted violently and he was gasping in pain, as his hand was reduced to ashes. His wand was forgotten on the floor.

Harry stood frozen, breathing hard, the training with Lynne finally kicking in, his wand was now in his hand. He was about to stun Quirrell when behind him, he heard a sound, the scrape of metal and as he turned he saw Lynne dragging herself upright, blood streaking behind her. Her voice came through clenched teeth.

"Step aside, Harry."

Harry sidestepped and Quirrell barely had time to look up. Her spell hit him full-force. He was thrown across the chamber, crashing into the far wall with a crack that echoed like thunder. For a moment everything was still, then a sound, low angry and unnatural whispered across the stones.

A shadow peeled itself from Quirrell's fallen body, it had only a face, no edges, just shape, chill and malice. A guttural scream escaping its form.

Harry couldn't move, his mind realizing the terrible truth. Voldemort was inside the professor all along and that thing now turned to them, looking angry, finally passing through him like smoke. A wave of dread and desperation filled him. He didn't scream but he felt it in his chest, cold, heavy and terrible.

He was thrown back and landed hard on the floor. As his consciousness slipped away he saw that Lynne was on the floor again. His eyes felt so heavy, but at the last moment of clarity he heard footsteps, fast and urgent. He saw robes being swept through the broken steps like a wind chasing the dark.

His mind realized Professor Dumbledore came back, then everything went dark.
​

---

Lynne's head rolled slightly to one side as consciousness slipped away again, the echo of that cold still clinging to her ribs. In the haze behind her eyelids, she saw flashes of images. A red butterfly on stone, the glint of silver arms raised in defiance.

Lynne felt the weightless drift of unconsciousness, yet her mind was wide awake, pulled violently through half-shapes and moments that weren't hers. A cradle's lullaby, then a girl's hand, small and trembling, reaching for light. Someone calling a name, but not hers, over and over again. A man with blood on his hands begging the world to stop turning.

'Where am I? Who is this? Why does it hurt?' She wondered. Faces flickered in the dark, soft and human, full of warmth she didn't understand. A woman, perhaps? Mother? It couldn't be, she didn't have one.

A rush of color blurred her vision. Then more memory fragments invaded her mind, sharper this time. She saw herself running barefoot down a hallway. A laugh that ended in a scream, then hands, too many hands, holding her down. Then all came crashing down, a final spell followed by silence.

Lynne gasped in the void, though her body didn't move. Her mind clawed for something familiar, something real. After what felt like eternity, she finally heard familiar footsteps, heavy and measured. A figure emerged from the mist, tall and robbed, his face obscured by shadows. She recognized that shape, her mentor.

She remembered the sound of his voice like a ticking metronome, cold and precise. The way he corrected her posture with a nod while going through the many lessons he taught her. Or when he guided her on how to disassemble and assemble her arms and legs. Briefly she swore she heard him speak. "I made you to endure, now get up."

She could finally relax, feeling confident that everything would work out. In this dreamscape, he knelt before her.

"Focus." he said. "You are our purpose."

The voices quieted. The chaos receded. Lynne reached out, as if to touch the edge of his cloak, anything to stay grounded, and the moment shattered. The dream blurred into comfortable white and she finally woke up. Her first thoughts going to her mission.

"Harry?" She asked as she opened her eyes.
​

---

"If you want to keep a Dark Lord on your head, at least wear a helmet. Cloth doesn't help with the snowballs." – Lynne tips

 

[Lucernello]

Chapter 9 - Protocol

Harry woke to the sound of birdsong and the distant clatter of teacups. At first, he wasn't sure where he was. Everything was bright, too bright. And the air smelled like mint and antiseptic. His vision blurred, swimming in soft light, until shapes resolved into the tall, arched windows of the Hogwarts hospital wing.

He lay beneath crisp white sheets. His chest ached when he breathed too deeply, and his right arm tingled as if he strained it. His glasses rested neatly on the nightstand beside him, next to a bottle of Wiggenweld potion and a strip of chocolate from Madam Pomfrey. A small enchanted plant on the windowsill leaned toward the sunlight, its petals slowly opening and closing like it was asleep.

The ceiling above him was painted with soft charms to mimic the weather outside. Today, it showed a warm spring sky streaked with drifting clouds.

Harry blinked again, suddenly remembering what happened. His thoughts went immediately to Lynne. He sat up too quickly and a wave of dizziness crashed through him, dropping him back onto the bed.

"Ahh. Easy there, my boy." came the calm and unmistakable voice of Professor Dumbledore beside him.

Harry turned his head to find the Headmaster standing up beside his bed, with robes of exotic colours, his hands clasped over his glasses and a small book. His blue eyes twinkled behind the spectacles, though there was a weight in them today, probably concerned for him or what happened.

"You've had quite the adventure, Harry." Dumbledore said softly. "You don't mind if I Take a bit of candy, don't you, my boy?" He said pointing at an arrangement of boxes sitting at the end of the bed.

Harry looked surprised at the amount of magical candy left there.

"Tokens, from your admirers."

"Admirers? Wait. Lynne." Harry croaked. "Where is she? Is she alright?"

"She is alive, if you can consider her as such." Dumbledore answered. Picking a small bean from one of the boxes. "Resting. Her injuries were… considerable. But she's recovering. Thanks, I imagine, to her own nature more than anything else."

Harry slumped back, allowing that to sink in. The sharp edges of memories were starting to return to him. The Stone, Quirrell, the cold shadow that passed through them, that unbearable weight in his chest. And now the feeling that Voldemort was not truly gone.

"The Stone." Harry said. "What happened to it?"

Dumbledore's gaze turned toward the window for a moment, as if weighing how much truth to give.

"He was not able to take it. The Mirror of Erised served its purpose exactly as it was meant to. Only someone who wanted to find the Stone, but not use it, could retrieve it. I already called for my friend Nicholas to come pick it up, for safekeeping."

Harry then looked down, relaxing a bit for the first time since he woke up.

"I couldn't stop him. He-he was already there. And Lynne… she-"

"You did stop him, Harry." Dumbledore said firmly. "You and miss Volant both. Professor Quirrell is gone though, and what possessed him has fled, set back for now."

Harry swallowed. "It was Voldemort, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Dumbledore said simply.

The word hung in the air, like a crack in the ceiling no one could fix. Dumbledore stood and walked slowly to the foot of Harry's bed.

"What happened in that chamber between you and Quirell is a secret, so naturally, the whole castle knows." he said with a jesting tone.

Harry processed that in silence. Rumours had not been kind this year.

"And Lynne?" he asked again, softer now. "Will she be alright?"

Dumbledore's face softened. "That is a question I cannot fully answer. She is unique, carrying more than most students ever should." There was a feeling of regret in his voice.

"She asked for you as soon as she woke up." Dumbledore added. "But I believe you will see her for the end of term feast."

Harry nodded slowly, his thoughts turning inward. He had so many questions and doubts, having been told the dark lord was not gone and probably looking to murder him in the future was heavy enough weight in his mind.

"Professor." he said after a long pause. "Why me? And why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

Dumbledore paused, contemplating "It was because of your mother. She sacrificed herself for you, and that kind of act leaves a mark. It is embedded in your very skin. That is why, Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you. The short answer is love, Harry."

Harry didn't quite understand, but he nodded anyway. As Professor Dumbledore exited the hospital wing he briefly thought on his words. His mother probably used some risky magic in order to keep him safe in her last moments.

Harry leaned back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted again. The spring sun warmed the sheets. As he began to drift back to sleep, his thoughts turned to Hermione as well, hopefully she was alright.
​

---

Madam Pomfrey had insisted on keeping him until his sleep was no longer "full of twitching and muttering." but he had argued that he was fine and he was let go earlier.

The first person to greet him outside the infirmary was Lynne, who hugged him tighter than he expected and somehow had recovered faster than him, her limbs reattached or fixed, he wasn't sure. He was not used to her giving those acts of affection but it was comforting at least. Then she checked him over, and once she was sure he was fine, she smiled at him.

"I'm glad you are alright, Harry." she said simply.

He was about to ask her about her recovery when Hermione appeared round the corner and lunged pulling him into a crushing hug. Her bushy hair smashing at his face as he laughed.

"You look awful." she said, which was her way of saying I'm glad you're alive.

"I'm sure I look Dashing." He teased.

He looked around, remembering what he had meant to ask but Lynne was looking somewhere else, staring at something in the distance. For him, she looked a bit lost in the moment and hesitated. He was brought back from his thoughts by an anxious Hermione.

"We still have the last week of classes." Hermione said. "I'm still nervous about my exams."

Harry chuckled. "Of course, that's what you are worried about."

She glared at him and he laughed harder.

The rhythm had returned to Hogwarts, they had a few classes where they were handed their marksheets. He had done well, and only in History of Magic he didn't have an Outstanding, Binns probably didn't know his name so he was skeptical of his mark. It was still a passing grade so in the end he didn't really care and one hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons was not really important in the long run.

He had done well with the charms exams, attributing animation to an inanimate object was not hard for him and turning a mouse into a snuff box for Transfiguration had been just as easy.

In Potions admittedly he got help from Lynne by using the pocket watch and he was sure he made the forgetfulness potion perfectly, but he was still surprised Professor Snape actually marked him with an O.

Students whispered about their own marks, sharing them with one another. The Quidditch cup was somehow won by Slytherin because even though Ravenclaw won their last match, it was not by the difference in points that they needed. The castle was brimming with rumours about him as well, and the disappearance of Professor Quirrell.

Something that stood out was that Lynne was silent almost the entire week, and she still had that lost look from time to time which was unnerving.

"She's back in the dorms," Hermione said quietly. "But she… hasn't really been speaking to anyone. Not even the Ravenclaws."

"I know." replied Harry.

They walked the halls together, watching students carry armfuls of books and broomsticks, laughing about house points and year-end pranks. His thoughts still with his friend.

That evening, Dumbledore stood at the front of the Great Hall. The long tables were decked in house banners, the candlelight soft above their heads. The usual Hogwarts ceremony atmosphere hung in the air, similar to the welcoming or Halloween feasts. A speech followed congratulating everyone for another year gone by.

Then came the Awards. Ravenclaw had the most house points, followed very closely by Slytherin with only 5 points difference, the closest in history, having won the Quidditch cup they almost got first place.

"This year, Ravenclaw has won the House Cup, with intellect, discipline, and resilience." Dumbledore said.

A quiet ripple of applause followed, the Ravenclaw table clapping politely but proudly. He turned toward the students seated at that long table, eyes lingering on Lynne for only the briefest moment.

"For services rendered in the protection of this school." he said, "I would also like to acknowledge four students: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Virgil Fowler" A pause. "And Lynne Volant."

Harry smiled awkwardly at people looking at him, he glanced down the table at her. Lynne sat still, her arms folded, her head bowed slightly, her food untouched, gaze lost.

The room clapped, not as loud as it could have been, although Dumbledore had said that everyone knew what happened, he saw that many were not aware of why they were being awarded with mentions at his speech.

After the meal, students filed out toward their dormitories. Harry, Hermione, and Virgil hung back a little longer near the courtyard arch, watching the twilight creep in through the stained-glass windows.

"She hasn't been the same since. I'm worried." Virgil said, quietly.

Harry looked at him.

Virgil glanced toward the far end of the Hall, where Lynne had just slipped out the side door alone. "She smiles too much. And then not at all. It's like watching someone stuck between dreams."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe she's… recovering."

"From what you told me, having to fight for her life might have shocked her." Virgil replied. "So you might be right."

Harry didn't argue, although he also had a few nightmares that week. He didn't want to feel guilty, but having killed someone with his hand hadn't settled in his mind yet.

That night, at the Ravenclaw tower, Harry saw Lynne standing by the window alone, staring out across the grounds. The Quidditch pitch was empty now, the banners taken down.

Only the moon cast its light in stripes across the floor. Behind her, her trunk sat already packed.
​

---

The platform at Hogsmeade Station was buzzing with its usual end-of-term chaos.

Trunks clattered, owls hooted from their cages, and Prefects shouted instructions to first years trying to wrestle their bags into position. The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express hissed as it readied for departure, clouds of white steam curling around students' legs like fog.

Harry stood near the rear of the train, clutching Hedwig's cage in one hand and his trunk handle in the other. Lynne without saying a word, had cast a charm that made it light-weight.

Hermione was already on board, waving from a window. Virgil had disappeared into one of the forward carriages, muttering something about avoiding loud compartments. And Lynne wasn't boarding yet.

He spotted her standing a few steps back from the train, half-lost in the crowd, her butterfly circling around her hair. She wore her coat despite the warmth, the sleeves long enough to conceal her metal arms entirely. Her eyes were fixed on the engine, like she wasn't sure whether it was a train or a threat.

Harry approached her carefully. "You coming?"

She blinked, slowly, and turned to him. Her expression was calm, but wrong. It was almost a fully detached look. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes looked dead.

"I was waiting." she said softly.

"For what?"

"For my mentor to help me."

He frowned. "Isn't he supposed to come pick you up when we arrive?"

"Yes, he will probably be waiting for me when we arrive." she said, and then, after a pause, "Do you need help?"

Harry shook his head and slowly placed his hands on her back, guiding her into the train, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to ask. She climbed on without looking back.

They found a quiet space at the back of the train, near the window, with no other students around. Hermione joined them a few minutes later, bringing cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties she had bartered for.

It should have felt like before, their usual banter, the easy comfort of friends riding home after a long school year. But it didn't.

Harry watched Lynne out of the corner of his eye. She sat with her chin propped on her hand, watching the countryside slide by. Sometimes she smiled, not at anything in particular. Just smiled. Then stopped.

She laughed when Harry joked about the Slytherin team losing every match next year, but then she went quiet and stared at the wall for five straight minutes afterward, completely still.

They talked about what they would do during summer vacations. Harry was not too keen on staying with his relatives. When Hermione asked what she'd be doing over the summer, Lynne answered.

"I'll wait. My mentor will either give me a new Mission or I will follow my current one."

Hermione frowned. "Mission?"

She didn't answer her and just stared at her. Harry tried to smooth it over. "She means staying safe, from what I know." Lynne didn't correct him.

Outside, the landscape rolled past in fields of green and gold, the sun drifting west. Harry leaned his forehead against the window and let the rhythm of the tracks calm his nerves.

"You know, I could visit." she offered suddenly.

Harry blinked. "My aunt and uncle won't like it, I'm not sure."

Lynne didn't seem deterred though. She just nodded. "I will visit anyway. If I'm still functional."

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I'm losing functionality because I used a lot of myself in the fight." she said. "I'm in need of recalibration to ensure that I'm fully functional."

Hermione set down her book, suddenly pale. "I never wanted to ask because it seemed rude, but are you actually a robot?"

"What is a robot?" Lynne asked.

"Like... a machine, not human."

"I'm not a machine. But you don't have to worry about it, I'll be fine."

Harry leaned forward. "Are you sure?"

"I am." Lynne said. "He told me so."

The silence that followed was dense questions none of them dared to ask. The train rolled on.

When the conductor called for final preparations, Hermione reached out and squeezed Lynne's hand, metal and warm under her palm.

The train had been moving for hours. Outside the windows, the countryside passed in lazy streaks of green and gold. The occasional field blurred into woodland, and beyond that, hills rolled like sleeping giants under a soft sky. Inside the compartment, the heat had settled into a quiet warmth. Harry had stopped tracking time.

Hermione had dozed off with her head against the glass, a book forgotten on her lap. The soft sound of the train on the rails was rhythmic, almost soothing.

Harry kept glancing across the seat at Lynne. She was still. Perfectly still. Elbows resting on the windowsill, gaze unfocused, metal fingers curled slightly in her lap like clockwork between pulses.

Then without warning, she turned to him, her eyes lit up.

"Isn't it lovely?" she said brightly, her voice several degrees higher than usual. "The train, the sky, the smell of sugar from the trolley. I want candy."

Harry stared. She leaned toward him like someone gossiping about a crush.

"I saw a bird fly alongside the train earlier, it was red, with little speckles. I think it winked at me. Do birds wink?"

She laughed. Am actual real laugh, even if it sounded coerced and rough, it felt light and fluttery.

"I…" Harry hesitated. "I don't think so?"

"Hmm!" she said, then clapped her hands, a metal ring clinked against her wrist and she giggled again. "Oh, I hope we have a layover! I want to find a sweets cart and get those purple licorice things. What are they called?"

Harry was frozen. Hermione stirred slightly and mumbled something, then fell back asleep.

Lynne didn't seem to notice. She stood up suddenly and leaned into the corridor, humming a song Harry didn't recognize, she looked almost childish. She was smiling, but the smile didn't fit, it was even more strange coming from her.

"Lynne?" he asked quietly.

She turned toward him, beaming. "Yes?"

"What… are you doing?"

"Just stretching my legs, silly. You have to stretch after sitting for too long or you'll go stiff. I also want candy..."

She paused. Frowned and the smile dropped. She blinked once, twice, and sat down again, slowly, like something rewinding inside her. She stared at her hands. Her metal fingers. Then looked at Harry.

"What's wrong?"

He said nothing at first.

"You… were acting strange." he asked gently.

"Oh. I don't remember what I was just doing." she said. "I got up, did I?"

"You did." Harry said carefully. "You were… different."

Lynne's eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but in concentration.

"I've been having more gaps." she said. "Pieces missing and things out of order."

Her hand went to her temple.

Harry leaned forward. "Do you know what it is?"

"I think it's her again." she whispered.

She looked scared. That terrified Harry more than anything.

After a moment, her calm gaze returned. "My mentor surely knows how to handle it. I will be fine." Lynne added.

The moment stretched. Outside, the wind shifted, rustling the curtains ever so slightly. Then her hands curled tightly in her lap again, and she returned to staring out the window.

Will there be a time where I will understand what is going on with her? Harry wondered.
​

---

The platform at King's Cross was loud and sun-soaked, bustling with parents calling names and trunks wheeling every which way. Steam curled from the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express, drifting like a farewell between the crowd.

Harry stepped off the train, Hedwig's cage in one hand and his schoolbag slung over his shoulder.

Hermione gave him a quick hug, whispering, "Write to me the moment anything happens. I will tell you about my summer when I can."

He nodded, though he wasn't sure he would be able to. Lynne had bolted the moment the train had stopped, she had said goodbye and gave them a nod. She wasn't on the platform right now so he assumed she met her mentor already.

After crossing the hidden barrier, he scanned the crowd, already bracing himself.

He sighed when he saw the barrel shape of Vernon Dursley, red-faced and impatient, checking his watch like Harry had missed an appointment. Behind him, Petunia stood as stiff as ever, squinting disapprovingly into the sea of wizard robes.

He frowned and looked again but she was nowhere to be seen. The Dursleys turned to leave and Harry had to follow. As he was entering the car however he saw her staring at him for just a second before she turned invisible. He blinked, searching for her again.

"Get a move on, boy!"

The ride to Privet Drive was annoying. Vernon grunted at him once, trying to make him feel guilty of having to come fetch him and ruining a family moment while Petunia offered him cold chicken in Tupperware like nothing had happened while Dudley snored like a pig.

Still, Harry said nothing. His thoughts were on Lynne and the strange moment on the station. He wondered where she had gone or why she had crossed to the Muggle side.

The Dursley house was just as he remembered it. Small, too beige, and too quiet. The moment they stepped inside, Vernon launched into his usual speech about rules, no talking about anything freakish, no doing any magic at all, and absolutely no owl noises at night.

Harry didn't hear half of it. Ignoring him was not the best course of action it seemed, Vernon got angry fast. His face turned into a different shade of red. As soon as Vernon closed the front door with a sharp click, he grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against the side of the staircase.

"You will listen to what I say or-"

A knock on the front door interrupted him. They all froze as the knock came again. Then a third time, much louder. Petunia stepped back and Dudley whimpered as the door burst open with a loud crack. The hinges cracked, the frame splintered, and Lynne stepped into the hall like a ghost made of metal and steam.

She wasn't wearing her cloak now. Her arms gleamed in the fluorescent kitchen light, her eyes were fixed on Vernon and his arm grabbing Harry.

"What is it with you freaks and breaking my door?!"

Her face was calm, but all of a sudden it turned into an uncharacteristic scowl and anger shined through, which made Vernon start fuming.

"Step away from Harry." she said, her voice rough and threatening. "Now."

Vernon was now clearly boiling inside. "Who do you think you-"

"Noo." Harry said quickly. "Please don't hurt them!"

But the plea was too late. She moved and Harry could only hope she would restrain herself. In one terrifying blur, she stepped forward and grabbed Vernon's arm, twisting it and freeing Harry. Vernon's scream was short-lived.

As Harry recovered from being manhandled he saw Vernon clutching his stomach, breathing heavily. She then grabbed him by his collar lifting him with both her arms and threw him across the kitchen, knocking the table. He hit the wall with a sound like a dropped bag of flour, wind knocked out of him. Petunia screamed. Dudley bolted into the living room looking for a place to hide.

Lynne stared at Vernon panting, sobbing and wheezing on the floor.

"Try." she said quietly. "Try laying a hand on him again." then her composure relaxed which gave his aunt room to voice her opinion.

"You freaks should stay away, get out of my house!" Petunia's voice came shrill.

Lynne tilted her head, her anger seemingly gone. Her blank face having returned gave no emotions. She blinked as if not understanding the situation completely.

"I'm Harry's friend and I'm here to protect him."

She turned to Harry.

"I'll stay here. Until it's safe. Where is your room?"

Harry was stunned, still in disbelief. "U-upstairs." he finally said.

And just like that, she grabbed his trunk and started climbing the stairs. He quickly regained his senses and while Petunia was trying to help a collapsed Vernon he quickly followed her. His relatives didn't dare to say a word.

"Harry, I think it would be best if your relatives never touch you again, I lost control for a second again."
​

---

Lynne had explained that his mentor was not able to come for her at the train station. She had hinted at receiving orders to continue her mission until he could give her a safe location. What mission that was, he had no clue. Harry didn't mind, he was actually quite glad she had butted into his summer plans.

The Dursleys didn't speak to him. Not once. Surprisingly they didn't even try to call the police. They didn't even use her name.

After Lynne had joined him for breakfast the next day, even though she didn't need to eat, Vernon had shuffled into the living room, pale and sweat-drenched. He would stay there for the rest of the day scared of even looking at her.

Petunia moved through the house like a ghost, only speaking in thin mutters to herself about "Freak agents" and "unregistered monsters." Dudley refused to leave his room. Harry had never seen the house so quiet.

At one point Vernon had enough of her and tried to threaten her with his gun, but it ended with him on the floor again and the gun broke down and bent into a ball. From there they tried their best to avoid her again, although Harry knew the situation would explode at some point out of desperation.

She dismantled a broken toaster her second morning there, reassembled it better, and left it on the counter without comment. He was reminded that Lynne didn't need sleep as she would often stay in his room at night, sitting on the floor reading or writing in her journal. A few days ago he found her exiting the small cupboard under the stairs.

Harry sat at the desk in Dudley's second bedroom, fingers idly tapping the wood. Hedwig dozed in her cage beside the window, her feathers fluffed against the early chill.

He turned toward the glass and looked up at the sky. No owls. Not one in the past two weeks. Not even from Hermione.

He wasn't worried, not in the panicked way he might have been a year ago. He wasn't locked in his cupboard, he wasn't counting the cracks in the ceiling. This time, he had Lynne. Still, it lingered at the edge of his mind.

He thought for sure Hermione would've written by now. She always had something to say, even if it was a correction or a fact he didn't ask for. Padma might've sent a short note. Even Terry could've scrawled something snarky on the back of a Chocolate Frog card. He didn't know Anthony that much but he said he would write from time to time.

But there had been nothing. Maybe they were still busy with their families. He didn't know exactly how a caring family worked, so maybe they would spend days together catching up on the time they missed. Maybe they were giving him space they themselves wanted, after months of staying all together at the castle. Or maybe, he thought briefly, they didn't know what to say after what happened and the rumours.

Lynne had barely spoken that morning. She was sitting in the corner of the room now, methodically tightening a metal plate in her forearm with a tool she must have built herself. She looked fine, mostly, although at times she would look lost for a few seconds, even while spending time with him.

"Hermione hasn't written." he said, not really expecting a reply. "Neither has anyone from Ravenclaw."

Lynne didn't look up. "They haven't written to me either."

He nodded slowly. "So maybe it's normal for them to wait a bit?."

She tightened something with a soft click. Harry stared at the window again.

"I don't mind it that much with you here to be honest." he added. "It's just, I'm worried they are distancing themselves after what happened."

He didn't say he missed them. He wasn't sure he did, not yet, but he wanted to stay friends with everyone. He was used to something different now. Not having them around, not even exchanging a letter, felt strange.

Lynne finished adjusting the panel and flexed her fingers with a whirred sound.

"Why don't you write them and ask?." she questioned.

"Yeah, I can do that, it will give Hedwig something to do." And that was enough for now.

Harry found her seated at the kitchen table one night, sharpening one of her arm joints with a silver hex-tool that definitely hadn't been packed in her school trunk.

He poured himself a glass of water. "You don't have to stay in the cupboard, you know."

Lynne shrugged. "It's small. I fit."

Harry snorted. He thought she sounded like something a cat would say just now.

"You can use the guest room. I don't mind your company."

She smiled faintly. "My mentor told me everyone needs their privacy from time to time."

Harry smiled a little, then watched her quietly. She was different now, not openly, not constantly, but in the tension in her fingers, the way she tilted her head too far to the side, like a tic or a bad habit.

"You've been… having the same issue you had on the train. More frequently now." he said carefully.

"Yes. I couldn't find my mentor to fix it obviously and I don't know how."

She reached into her coat and pulled out a crumpled small note. She flattened it on the table, stared at the fine print for a few seconds.

"I had a dream earlier... or a memory." she said suddenly. "I was brushing my hair but it was a lot longer than what I usually wear. But I've never had that in my life."

Harry's breath caught. "Do you remember anything else?"

"No. Just… warmth. A sort of smell. Vanilla and… the smell of books. And the feel of a soft bed. There was also the feeling of sunlight."

She looked up at him.

"I don't like the light. It makes me tired." He didn't know what to say to that.

The next morning, she knocked on Harry's door just past dawn. He opened it, still in pajamas. She stood in the hallway, coat buttoned and a small butterfly stuck on her hair.

"We are leaving." she said.

Harry's stomach dropped. "Where?"

"My guardian left instructions to find a house. It's hidden and safe. No one but us should know about it. I'm taking you with me."

"What?" he asked with hesitation.

"We can't stay here. This house is not really safe, the wards present are not hiding us." she said.

He nodded slowly, heart tightening. Lynne looked at him for a long time. Her eyes were clear, calm. Then, for a brief moment, they shimmered, looking conflicted.

Harry hesitated. "What about… what about the Dursleys?"

Lynne tilted her head slightly. "What about them?"

"No one will look for us?" he asked.

"They can try."

He nodded, still uncertain.

"Why are you not packing?"

Deciding that his summer would be terrible if he stayed he went up the stairs silently, he didn't need to pack much as he had been spending time with Lynne instead of doing anything with his school supplies. Fifteen minutes later, they slipped out into the gray-blue of early morning. No one saw them go. The street was empty.
​

---

Arabella Figg stirred milk into her tea with a slow, deliberate rhythm, the morning paper folded neatly beside her on the counter. Her flat smelled faintly of cat hair and lavender liniment, but today the scent of overcooked cabbage and the soft purring of her kneazle-cross cats filled the air. Two of them purred around her ankles, half-dozing.

She glanced through the lace curtain, out the front window of her small house just across the street from Number Four, Privet Drive.

She set her tea down, a sense of unease creeping in. Arabella had been entrusted by Dumbledore to watch over Harry, a task she took seriously despite her lack of magical abilities. Her status as a Squib had often made her feel inadequate, but this responsibility gave her purpose.

She recalled the times she had to feign disinterest in Harry, ensuring the Dursleys would continue to allow her to babysit him. It pained her to treat him coldly, but it was necessary for his protection.

Now something felt off. It had been a very quiet two weeks. No sign of Petunia bustling with breakfast dishes. No Vernon wrestling with the car door. And no Harry.

Her gaze narrowed. Normally by now, the boy would have been weeding something, or hiding in the garden to avoid Dudley's latest torment. Nothing like that had happened yet, and she was sure they wouldn't punish the boy with more than a week indoors.

She leaned closer to the glass. Then frowned. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the telephone, a battered, rotary thing she rarely used. She paused.

"No." she whispered to herself. "Not yet. It could still be nothing." The cats stilled at her feet.

Across the road, Number Four remained still. Too still. Arabella Figg stared at it a moment longer, then slowly pulled the curtain shut.

In the morning she stepped outside, the morning air crisp against her skin. Crossing the street, she knocked on the Dursleys' door. No answer. She tried the handle; it was locked. Peering through the window, the house appeared empty.

The following day she thought she was being rewarded for her inaction as she saw finally the Dursley happy and outside for a change. Although there was still no sign of Harry.

The day after, Petunia knocked on her door to let her know that she wouldn't have to take care of Harry this summer with a happy smile and relaxed face. As soon as she was gone, she sat down heavily in her armchair, cats weaving around her ankles.

She needed to inform Dumbledore. But what would she say? That Harry had vanished under her watch? The weight of her perceived failure pressed down on her.

She sighed, reaching for the teacup, now cold. "Oh, Harry." she whispered, "Where have you gone?" She finally floo called the Headmaster. Something had gone very wrong, for sure.
​

---

AN: This is the end of year 1. I will be back to posting year two next week. Also here I have a glossary of all spells used so far and a few other trivia I picked up from the wiki. I wrote it originally for a friend that isn't really into HP as much, and I'm adding it here, maybe someone finds it interesting. You can definitely skip it.

Glossary - Year One​

Magic & Spells.

Spells:​

• Accio: Summoning charm – Summons an object to caster.​
• Avada Kedavra: Killing Curse – Kills a target.​
• Bombarda: Bombardment spell – Causes a small explosion.​
• Brachio Emendo: Charm, Healing Spell – This spell will heal broken bones.​
• Confringo: Blasting curse – Produces a fiery explosion.​
• Crucio: Cruciatus Curse – Inflicts unbearable pain.​
• Depulso: Banishing charm – Pushes target far away from caster.​
• Diffindo: Severing charm – Used to precisely cut or tear objects.​
• Engorgio: Enlargement charm – Target swells in physical size.​
• Expelliarmus: Disarming charm.​
• Expulso: Explosion spell – Uses pressure instead of heat.​
• Four-Point Spell: Charm to point north or, if modified, a specific direction.​
• Levioso: Levitation charm – Levitates target.​
• Lumos: Light-producing charm –Illuminates the tip of the caster's wand.​
• Lumos Maxima: A stronger variant of Lumos charm.​
• Petrificus Totalus: Full Body-Bind Curse – Used to temporarily bind the victim's body in a position.​
• Protego: Shield charm – Magical Shield, can block most spells.​
• Reparo: Mending charm – Repairs an object.​
• Reducto: Reductor curse – Breaks objects. In stronger usages, it disintegrates them.​
• Revelio: Charm to reveal secrets.​
• Stupefy: Stunning spell – Stuns target, rendering them unconscious..​
• Wingardium Leviosa – Levitates an object and moves it around.​

Variant Spells:​

• Indica Locus – Custom navigation spell created by Lynne, variation of Four-Point Spell.​
• Rubescens – Gives active defense to a flying object, turns the object red.​
• Sleeping Charm – Spell with an unknown incantation, puts the target into a magically induced sleep that would eventually wear off.​

Warding / Wards: They are protective enchantments used in an area for an extended period of time. These spells could have a wide variety of applications, with many different types of protective enchantments existing.

Transfiguration: Branch of magic that focused on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object, animal or person.

Charms: A charm is a spell that adds certain properties to an object or individual. The art of producing charms is known as charmwork.

Curses, Jinxes, Hexes: they are all dark charms. Dark charms are those designed to be malicious or otherwise draw power from negative emotions. Curses are the worst type and most heinous kind of magic, therefore their effects were the most severe. Jinxes are minor dark charms, their effects are the least severe. Causes small inconvenience to the target usually. Hexes are the intermediate type, their effects are moderately severe. It can cause a major inconvenience or low level of harm to the target.

Locations

Forbidden Forest: also known as the dark forest, is a forest that borders the edges of the grounds of Hogwarts School. There are several creatures that make their home there. To name a few, Acromantulas, Centaurs, Unicorns, Thestrals and Hippogriffs.

Hogsmeade Station: The train to Hogwarts stops here, Hogsmeade is an all-wizarding village in the Scottish Highlands

Platform 9¾: It's a hidden platform at King's Cross Station in London, magically concealed behind the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10.

Quidditch Pitch: The area where a Quidditch match took place, typically in the shape of an oval, hundred and fifty meters long and a hundred and fifty five meters wide, with a small central circle of approximately a meter in diameter. At each end there are three hooped goalposts of different heights, surrounded by a scoring area.

Gringotts: The only wizarding bank in Great Britain, and is owned and operated by goblins. Its main offices are located around the North Side of Diagon Alley in London, England. In addition to storing money and valuables for wizards and witches, one would go there to exchange Muggle money for wizarding money.

Diagon Alley: A cobblestoned wizarding alley and shopping area located in London, England behind a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Inside the alley is an assortment of restaurants, shops, and other sights. All items on the Hogwarts supply list are bought at Diagon Alley. The alley is completely hidden from the Muggle world, which is right outside of its boundaries. It is a very large area and essentially the center of wizarding London.

Azkaban: Is a fortress on an island in the middle of the North Sea. It serves the magical community of Great Britain as a prison for convicted criminals. Azkaban was built in the 15th century and it has been in use as a detention facility since 1718. Using certain charms, Azkaban is hidden from the Muggle world, and is Unplottable.

Titles, Roles & School Life

Auror: A wizard or witch that works as a highly trained law enforcement official for a wizarding governing body. Auror training is extremely difficult and intensive, so there are few qualified applicants.
Magical Guardian: A figure, usually a wizard or witch, who is appointed to protect and care for a child, particularly a magical child. This role often involves oversight of the child's education, safety, and well-being, especially in situations where the child has lost their parents or needs extra support.

Magical Creatures & Beings

Cerberus (Fluffy): A three-headed dog, also known as a Cerberus, is a very rare magical beast. It is unknown if, like the Runespoor, each head serves a different purpose. Their great weakness is the inability to resist falling asleep to the sound of music.

Owls (Hedwig): An owl is a magical bird of prey. Normally, most British owls are nocturnal, and owls generally keep to themselves, but in the wizarding world they serve many needed functions and have many sorts of personalities. Owls also appear to understand magical people speaking English and can communicate with wizards and witches. Owls are enlisted to aid communication between wizards. Letters, parcels and Howlers (angry letters) are all delivered by owls.

Kneazles: A magical beast related to, and similar in appearance to, a cat. Kneazles have spotted, speckled or flecked fur, large ears and a lightly plumed tail, akin to that of a lion's. They are thought to have separate breeds, like cats, and therefore each one varied in appearance, they can also breed with regular cats.

Potions & Ingredients

Wiggenweld Potion: A healing potion with the power to sterilize and heal minor injuries, and is the antidote to the Sleeping Draught and the Draught of Living Death.
Draught of Living Death: An extremely powerful Sleeping Draught, sending the drinker into a death-like slumber. Its effects are similar to suspended animation.
Forgetfulness Potion: A potion which causes an unknown degree of memory loss in the drinker. The recipe for this potion could be found in Magical Drafts and Potions, and is used as the final exam for first-years.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this first part, let me know what you think. Any feedback is welcomed, specially if you think the story has issues. Everything helps. This is my first attempt at writing a full story so those comments would help me for the future ones. Cheers.
-Luce​

 

[Lucernello]

MP: If the wall looks unbreakable, learn a bigger spell. If that fails, build a door. One way or another, you're getting through. If you can't win the fight today, sharpen your blade and try again tomorrow instead. You cannot always win every battle, but you will surely win the war with time. I believe in your strength, show those muggles how it is done!

I hope you had a lovely weekend.
- Luce

---

Chapter 10 - Reboot.

"I need you to hold still." Lynne said, already taking Harry's wrist.

He barely had time to nod before she turned on the spot. The world exploded in a swirl. It wasn't like flying, or falling, or being spun, it was like all of them happening at once. His body compressed, crushed from all sides, like he'd been forced through the eye of a needle. His lungs couldn't find air, his ears rang and every part of him screamed that this was wrong.

As quickly as the dreadful sensation had set in, it banished as they hit the ground. Harry stumbled forward and fell to his knees, coughing violently. The scent of wet leaves and cold soil filled his nose. Lynne stood beside him, perfectly steady, her coat flaring slightly in the wind. She looked down at him with concern.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "That… was awful. What was that?"

"It gets better. Slightly. It's called Apparition, you will learn it eventually."

"I don't think I want to." Harry muttered, then he glared at her. "You could've warned me."

She looked amused for a second. "I did. I said 'hold still.'"

He groaned and pushed himself upright. Around them stretched a quiet, empty field bordered by thick woods. The sky above was pale with late afternoon light, streaked with gray clouds that hung low and heavy.

"Where are we?" he asked, adjusting his coat.

"We are a few kilometers away from the house, but I couldn't take us closer than this." she said simply. "We don't apparate directly into the safehouse. Too many wards. We walk the rest of the way there."

"Of course we do." he muttered, falling into step behind her.

They walked for nearly an hour, following no path that Harry could see. The landscape grew wilder with every step, grass gave way to mossy stone, the trees twisted into strange shapes, and birds he didn't recognize chirped in three-tone rhythms. Once, something long and silver darted between the trees, and Lynne didn't even flinch.

Harry kept glancing over his shoulder.

"You're twitchy." Lynne noted, glancing back once.

"This whole place is twitchy." he replied. "Where are we really?"

"I cannot say."

"Helpful."

They crossed through a dry creek bed littered with pale stones. Just beyond, the air shifted, subtly at first, like stepping through a curtain. The fine hairs on Harry's arms stood on end.

He stopped mid-step.

Lynne looked back at him. "You feel it?"

"Yeah. Like static."

"It's the Wardline. Outside of it, it's risky, inside it you will always be safe."

She stepped forward and touched her fingers to the air. There was a faint shimmer, almost like heat rippling off stone, and then the feeling vanished. She beckoned him through.

Harry followed and immediately felt the shift again. He couldn't even describe it with words.

"He built it to keep things out. Or in." Lynne said

Before Harry could ask what she meant, the trees parted. The house appeared at the far end of a sunken path, a once-grand mansion now wrapped in ivy and neglect. Its stone façade was cracked in several places, windows shuttered or fogged over. Iron spires fell from the rooftop like old trees, and vines strangled the columns framing the front entrance.

The wrought iron gate ahead bore no name. Just a crest carved into the stone: a hand, palm open, with no fingers.

"Here we are." Lynne said.

Harry swallowed. "This is your safehouse?"

"Well, not mine but for now we will make it our own, yes."

"Looks more like a haunted house."

Lynne didn't argue but chuckled slightly. The iron gate groaned on its hinges as she pushed it open.

The path up to the mansion was overgrown with grass and peppered with thorny weeds. Cracks split the flagstones like old scars. The windows above were black and dust-blind, and the stone arch above the doorway bore what looked like ancient burns. Moss grew between the bricks. Everything smelled faintly of damp and iron.

They stepped through the gate into the property. Harry hoped the inside of the house was in better shape, he had learnt that you could never know for sure with magic.

"Homey." Harry muttered.
​

---

Lynne reached the front door and placed her metal palm against the wood. It shimmered beneath her touch, not visibly, but Harry felt it, the air shifted again, like stepping through a thin spider web. The door clicked, Swinging open with no sound.

Harry stepped inside and stopped dead. The contrast was instant, the inside was completely stunning. A 180 turn from the outside.

The entry hall glowed with polished charm. Tall ceilings arched overhead in clean stone, lit by flickering crystal sconces and a suspended chandelier of carved glass and brass. The floor was made from smooth black marble, so clean he could see his reflection stretching underfoot. Rich carpets patterned in deep navy and silver ran from the threshold into three hallways that split off like a compass.

Everything inside was immaculate, pristine. There was no dust. No smell of decay. The air was cool, dry, and faintly scented with something crisp.

It was beautiful. Harry turned in place slowly.

"This… isn't what I expected."

Lynne walked past him, not even glancing around. "He always said appearances are the first line of defense. Although the wards keep most people away, even if they spy from afar they will only see a worn out place and assume an old family house, abandoned."

Harry reached out and touched the nearest column, smooth stone. He couldn't imagine this place ever being dirty.

From somewhere down one of the halls, the sound of footsteps approached, steady, slow, marked by the subtle tap of a cane on polished marble.

Harry straightened as the sound drew closer. The man who stepped into view moved slowly, but with purpose.

His cane tapped once more on the stone as he paused at the far end of the hall. He wore dark robes, well-tailored but a little aged, with silver trim along the sleeves and collar. His face was pale, hollow-cheeked, with the kind of sharp features that looked carved rather than grown. One eye was slightly clouded, the other a piercing gray that immediately landed on Harry.

He looked tired, not weak, but worn. Like a statue that had weathered too many storms. And yet, when he smiled, his voice was warm and effortless.

"Harry Potter." he said. "At last."

"Hello." Harry said weakly.

"I'm told you've had quite the year." the man continued, walking closer. His cane made a dry, clean sound with each step. "And quite the company."

Lynne stood beside Harry now, posture straight, hands behind her back, like a soldier at attention.

"Sir." she said softly.

His gaze flicked to her, and that warm smile deepened, though Harry noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You brought him here safely. As expected."

"As you instructed, mentor."

"Yes, good work. To be honest I expected a bit more of an opposition but clearly there was no one really looking after you, Harry."

He was not surprised. If someone was watching him, the Dursley wouldn't have hurt him so much. Glancing to his side, Harry felt that something was not quite right at the way Lynne looked at him in adoration. The man finally reached them and extended a hand.

"You may call me Thorne."

Harry shook it. Thorne's grip was dry, precise, but not strong.

"I imagine this house looks better inside than it does from the lane." Thorne said, gesturing around them. "Intentional, of course. Camouflage is more reliable than confrontation."

"Right." Harry said, watching him carefully.

Thorne turned to Lynne. "There's work to be done, you will help him settle in. Harry, I'm sure you're tired. You'll have your own room upstairs, east wing. Third door on the right. The house will keep you safe."

Harry blinked. "The house?"

"It's enchanted. No one would dare make a bad move inside or outside. And there is also a house elf that will be watching over."

"Thanks." Harry muttered under his breath, then after a moment asked "Wait, what is a house-elf?"

Thorne laughed, startling him. "Zicky!" he called.

With a soft pop a small creature appeared at Thorne's side. His small frame straightening with purpose the moment his feet touched the floor. His skin was the color of aged parchment, stretched tightly over wiry limbs, and his large, slanted eyes gleamed with a pale silver sheen.

He wore a deep blue waistcoat tailored from fine drapery, adorned with a silver chain and a tarnished pin shaped like an open hand, the same emblem carved into the mansion's gate.

"Yes, master?" it said. Zicky moved with solemn grace, each bow and gesture precise and practiced. His voice, though soft, carried a curiously stern cadence

"This is our guest Harry Potter, he is to be treated as if he were family. He may call you if he needs anything." Thorne said.

"You honor me with such an esteemed guest, master. The last Potter in our household! I'll be proud to serve you."

Harry didn't understand why such a creature would refer with reverence bordering on worship if they were there to work, but Zicky reminded him of a butler in movies he had seen as a kid. Not that he had seen many, but he remembered the few he did see. Maybe magical butlers were slightly different.

Thorne smiled again, then turned to Lynne, this time with a little more tooth. "How are you faring?"

"Sub-optimal, I need recalibration. It can wait a few more weeks without major issues."

"We'll fix that. In time." He turned to Harry this time. "I'm sure you are wondering what is going on with her, but I will explain more in due time."

"Will she be alright?" Harry finally asked.

"Yes, for sure." Thorne said, "Sometimes even steel wears down if left too long outside. You just need to maintain it." he said, almost detached.

"While you settle in, I will begin preparing what is necessary for Lynne." Thorne added, already turning toward the hallway behind him, a long corridor flanked with runes and dim candlelight. "So that she can be herself again."

"I will go ahead and help you, master." Said Zicky, disappearing again with a soft pop.

Harry looked at Thorne who, with no more words, began slowly limping away. When he turned he saw Lynne with this strange look on her face, almost as if she were a puppy looking at their owner when they had been promised a treat.

Thorne opened a door of iron and stone and disappeared behind it. The door shut behind them with a soft thud.

"Let's go, Harry, I will help you move your things."
​

---

Thorne stood before the heavy door of the basement, one hand resting lightly on his cane, the other tracing a faint line across the edge of the stone frame.

He turned his head slightly toward Harry. "We'll be occupied for a few days. The procedure to fix Lynne needs time to work correctly. Will you be alright without us?"

Harry didn't ask what that meant. He didn't like the word recalibration, but he didn't quite understand it enough to protest.

"I will be fine." he lied.

"You won't be entirely alone. Call Zicky if you need anything and you are free to adventure through the mansion, there is a library if you want some entertainment. Surely that is something a Ravenclaw can appreciate." he said laughing.

Lynne said nothing. She stepped forward when beckoned, eyes on Thorne like a soldier awaiting orders and she didn't look back. Thorne opened the door with three precise gestures. The metal groaned softly as the hinges disengaged, and a sharp breath of cold air rose from below.

The space beyond the threshold was dark, not pitch black, but dim and endless, like a mine shaft or something deeper. Harry watched in silence as Lynne walked through without hesitation.

Thorne followed without delay, the door swinging shut behind him with a smooth, final sound. As the locks re-engaged, some symbols along the arch flared red for a heartbeat and then vanished. Harry blinked surprised. The basement door was no longer a door. It was a wall.

The house adjusted quickly to their absence. Harry wandered the polished corridors, not sure what to do. Everything here was too clean, too still. There were no creaky floorboards. No flickering lights. Just his soft footsteps heard as he moved.

Eventually, he found the library but when he was about to explore its contents, he felt quite hungry.

"Zicky?" he muttered.

Zicky appeared instantly near the far bookcase, with a soft pop, hands clasped, spine straight.

"Yes, Master Potter?"

Harry had almost forgotten that the house-elf had introduced himself the night before, proud and formal, eyes shining as he declared an honor to serve him.

"Can you guide me to the kitchen?" Harry said. "I'm hungry and I want to cook something for myself."

Zicky's long ears twitched. "It is Zicky's honor to provide for you, master potter. A meal is already in progress."

"Oh... Thanks, but you don't have to."

Zicky vanished again with the faintest breeze without an answer. Harry frowned. He then shrugged it off and turned back toward a table and chairs and sat down after picking a book about general household charms.

Within moments, Zicky appeared pushing a low tray, beside him on a side table. Fresh slices of warm honeybread, sugared blackberries, and a steaming mug of tea decorated the tray. A faint smell of cinnamon and ginger hit Harry's nose.

"If you need anything else, Master Potter just needs to ask." Zicky said as he vanished again.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but Zicky never returned. He didn't hover. He didn't check in. Harry supposed he was available when called only, but he didn't want to impose on him.

Harry wasn't used to being left alone in a place so richly cared for. It didn't make him feel entirely comfortable. Hours later he had already gone over the book and decided to visit the basement, see if maybe he could check on Lynne, but the door remained unchanged.

Harry passed by it twice that evening, each time expecting to hear something behind it, a voice, a clatter, something. But there was nothing. No light through the crack. No vibration underfoot. Only the stairs down as evidence the basement even existed in the first place.
​

---

Harry grew bored of tracking the time of how long it had been since Lynne and Thorne disappeared behind the basement door. His pocket watch tucked away in frustration.

Still being in this house was a better arrangement for his summer. It wasn't like the Dursleys' house, where time crawled with boredom and silence. There was no one screaming at him, no one demanding him to do anything. Exploring and reading were entertaining him for now as well.

He wandered after breakfast. Zicky didn't hover, but the house-elf appeared silently whenever Harry paused near a door for too long, offering light refreshments or asking if he wished to be 'guided'. Harry always declined, he didn't want to give more work to the elf that was keeping that big of a house clean.

Most of the rooms were unlocked, but most were empty. The walls in one corridor were lined with tall glass display cases. Inside: wands that had snapped at their cores, broken broomsticks, cracked lenses from magical monocles. Silver thread coiled in glass jars, each strand labeled in sharp, tiny script. A shelf of black-and-white photographs, all with faces blurred or scratched out, and the portraits had no one inside.

Even Hedwig, perched loyally on the high window frame of the room he slept in, seemed more watchful than usual. She wouldn't go near the southern wing of the house. Whenever Harry passed through the hallway with the three long windows, she'd ruffle her feathers and hiss softly.

Still, she stayed close. That helped to feel the owl's company.

It was on the third morning that Zicky appeared at the edge of the room with something in his hands, and a peculiar look on his face.

"Master Potter." the elf said, eyes unusually wide. "Your owl has defended the post most admirably. She has attacked an intruder with precise claws."

Harry blinked. "Intruder?"

Zicky straightened. "Another house-elf. Dishonorable. Attempting to breach the ward boundary and retrieve your correspondence. But the defenses are stronger, that helped your companion."

Zicky offered him a small wooden tray. On it: three letters. Harry took them carefully. The first had Hermione's handwriting, neat and crisp. The second was from Padma, it had a faint scent of sandalwood. The third was scribbled and smudged, definitely Terry Boot.

He felt something loosen in his chest. Hermione's letter was long and full of relief. In this particular letter, she was apologizing for being angry at him for not writing, now worried. She missed him and hoped he was safe. She had a list of spells to try when school started again.

Padma's letter was shorter, more thoughtful. She hoped he was having a great summer, complained about her annoying twin, about her vacations so far and briefly thanked him again for helping her to study for the exams.

Terry's note was simple as well, just asking for his well being and giving him insight on quidditch teams he might be interested in, but outlining that the Holyhead Harpies and the Kenmare Kestrels were the best this season.

Harry laughed for the first time since arriving. He wrote back that same afternoon. Hermione got the longest reply. He didn't say where he was, as he didn't exactly know, just that he was somewhere safe, with Lynne, and no one should worry. He told Padma that he also suffered the annoyance of his cousin, but he could be bribed with food, maybe her sister could be bribed as well.

He sent Terry well wishes and that he would subscribe to a newspaper so that he could follow those teams with him in the future. He tied the letters to Hedwig's leg. She looked at him with a kind of knowing calm, then took off into the high rafters and vanished through the upper tower window.

He stood in that empty observatory for a long time afterward, watching the sky brighten. For the first time in days, the silence didn't feel like a weight and he felt hopeful.
​

---

It was early evening when the basement door opened. No chime. No glow of runes. Just the soft creak of the lock disengaging, and the sound of a latch sliding free.

Harry stood halfway down the hall when he heard it. He turned. The door swung open slowly, as though on its own. Lynne stepped through looking fine, her face expressionless like when they first met.

Her posture was perfectly aligned, spine straight, limbs relaxed. Her coat had been cleaned and pressed. There was no hesitation in her steps, no stiffness. Just smooth, effortless movement.

Her look set on Harry immediately. She simply gave him a small wave and a nod, then walked past the doorway and paused at the center of the corridor, as though waiting for instruction.

Thorne emerged behind her, slower. His cane tapped once on the marble floor before he leaned heavily on it. His robes, normally so sharp and orderly, were rumpled. A deep shadow lay under his good eye, and the clouded one looked dull, almost glassy.

He didn't speak at first and he looked like he was about to faint. He looked at Harry, gave him a small nod.

"I'll be upstairs." he said. Then, with difficulty, he limped down the hall without another word.

Lynne turned to face Harry, her expression composed. Measured.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

She blinked once. "Yes."

There was a pause. A long one. She tilted her head slightly and finally gave him a small smile.

"I don't hear her anymore."

The sentence dropped between them like a coin into water.

Harry swallowed. "Is that… good?"

"Yes. It was scary." she nodded.

She stepped closer, glancing toward the grand staircase. "What did you do while we were away?"

"Not much," he replied. "Wandered, read some books in the library. Ate whatever Zicky threw at me. Hedwig kept me company as well. Oh, I finally got letters!"

She nodded thoughtfully. "I'm glad Harry. Zicky's always been a good cook. Better than the others."

"The others?"

"There were more elves with us, but they were very old. We moved through different houses but they would always follow him, they sadly passed away."

That hung in the air longer than he liked.

They walked slowly back toward the study, the soft thud of her boots and the sharper click of metal fingers the only sounds for a while.

"What happened to Thorne?" Harry asked finally. "His leg I mean."

"He was injured in combat. A cursed knife, one that never stopped bleeding. It took too long to close the wound, he had to consume many blood-replenishing potions. Curse wounds cannot be fully healed." she replied.

"Was it in the last war?"

"Yes." she said. "He fought against Voldemort's forces."

Harry nodded in understanding. He sighed as he saw that Lynne was back to short proposed answers, quiet observation and her features composed.

That night, Harry felt heavier again. He liked when Lynne smiled more, joked around, and now, whatever her mentor did, reverted her back to how she started the year. It was concerning.

The next morning, she insisted they begin training together again, which could be a nice distraction. She rarely laughed now, or hesitated, or even broke her composed face. He was growing fond of his friend and this version of Lynne seemed broken now. He didn't like it one bit.
​

---

The training courtyard sat behind the mansion, hidden beyond a hedge maze that hadn't been trimmed in years. A wide stone square sat beneath the open sky, bordered by ruined statues and crumbling benches. In the far corner, a gnarled tree grew sideways from the wall like it had been half-transfigured and never finished.

Lynne stood at its center, her coat off, sleeves rolled back to reveal both her metal arms in full. Just gleaming under the sun, as if they were made new. Harry stood opposite, wand in hand.

"If you are wondering, you can use magic here." she said. "The Trace won't trigger inside the inner wards. In magical households, they usually don't bother with tracking it. No one will know."

"That's nice, although I imagine Hermione will be pissed knowing about this." he replied while laughing.

"Yes, indeed. I can imagine the ranting."

Her voice was calm, her posture formal, and although the words were adequate, there was no humour behind them, no flicker of her usual quiet empathy.

"We will do only stinging hexes today, Harry. Focus on speed."

Harry raised his wand. "Alright."

Even if she was back to her usual self, her patience was always present. Even when he missed four stinging hexes in a row without her even moving.

"You are hesitating, aim first, then focus on the speed behind your casting." she said.

"Maybe I don't want to sting you." he replied quietly.

"You don't need to worry about it, I will block them." she said while smirking.

He grinned at her small smile. For hours she advised him, on the angle of the wand flick, the breath timing, the pivot of the back foot. She never got frustrated when he failed and that pushed him to try again until getting it right.

The second day, they focused on dueling, footwork, feints, and timing. Then speed again, and the differences between dueling and combat. He felt like he was being trained extensively, but at some point he wondered why. It was fun though so he wasn't complaining, but he was sore most of the time now.

By the fifth day, he hit her three times in a row in under 2 seconds, even if she blocked them all, he felt great about himself.

"I'm finally getting better." Harry panted.

"Yes, you are getting competent. Zicky might reward you with chocolate."

He laughed, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'll take that as a compliment."

At the mention of the house-elf, he was ready with a tray with two glasses of water, which he took gratefully. She took it as well, and that was the first time he saw her drink anything.

"It's not water for me, it helps me." she said simply.

By the seventh day, they moved to practicing Depulso and Reducto. Breaking things was cathartic for Harry and he felt they were not that difficult to learn in the end. Lynne had set up old crates, even some wooden wheels that Harry wondered where they had been before, enchanted to move and evade.

He failed to hit the moving targets at first but eventually he blasted all of them, to which Lynne just nodded and repaired them without saying a word. There was no compliment but it made him stand a little taller.

One night, Thorne joined them for dinner. The table was long and unnecessary, but they sat close to one end. Zicky had prepared stew, which lay steaming in the center of the table. He served in silence, then disappeared again.

Thorne ate slowly, eyes sharp but seemingly casual. They had talked about the first year, he was interested in the Troll incident, and what it felt like. They discussed the subjects that Harry liked the best, and the study group piqued Thorne's interest.

"So, Harry…" he said, pausing between bites. "What are you looking forward to in your second year?"

Harry blinked. "Honestly? I want to keep learning magic. I think it is wonderful in itself. I also want to try out for the Quidditch team, flying made me feel so alive."

Thorne raised an eyebrow. "Ah, The noble sport of falling off a broom for glory. I was never good at it, if you can tell."

Harry smirked. "It looks more fun than that."

Thorne chuckled. "Then if you are committed to doing your best in trying out, you will need something better than a school broom."

Harry looked up. "You mean…?"

But Thorne had already returned to his stew. "Don't worry about it." he said simply.

By the evening of July 30th, the training routine had become their rhythm, sparring in the mornings, lunch in silence, magical theory in the library after dusk. Lynne's instruction remained sharp, efficient, and controlled.

She never lost patience, never praised too highly, but every correction came with purpose. And Harry was learning, faster than he ever had at school. They had covered half of the second-year curriculum, and combat spells outside of that in such a short time that he was exhausted.

That night, over dinner, the air felt different. They had delayed dinner until super late, he was almost falling asleep. When they finally head to eat, the candles on the dining table burned a little brighter. The stew was richer than usual. Zicky hummed softly to himself as he served a small sponge cake glazed with thin layers of honey.

Harry blinked.

Lynne pushed the plate toward him. "Zicky said it's a tradition."

"What is?"

"The date. July thirty-first. Happy Birthday, Harry."

Harry hesitated. "Oh. Yeah. It's my birthday."

He hadn't expected anyone to remember. Thorne looked up from his wine glass, smiling faintly.

"Hard to forget the birthday of the Boy Who Lived."

Harry made a face. "Please don't call me that."

"Very well." Thorne said with an amused nod. "Still, a birthday deserves something more than sponge cake."

He gestured to Zicky. The elf snapped his fingers with a practiced motion. A long, slender box appeared on the side table with a muted shimmer of golden light. Harry turned. It was wand box-shaped, but longer.

Lynne gave him a nod. "Go on. It's a gift."

Harry rose, walked to the box, and opened the lid. Inside rested a sleek and polished broom, impossibly perfect. On the top end, it was branded 'Nimbus 2001'. His breath caught.

"This is…"

"Of course it is." Thorne said. "You said you wanted to try out for Quidditch. No point doing it on a second-hand broom."

Harry ran a hand along the handle, reverent. "I… I've never...thank you." his vision blurred slightly but he held himself from crying.

Thorne raised his glass slightly in toast. "You'll fly well."

The next morning, he saw multiple packages carried by owls. After opening letters by his friends and housemates congratulating him, Harry headed to the back field, which was bathed in pale sun. After a few moments he was tearing across the sky like a comet, climbing, diving, twisting in the wind with a joy he hadn't felt in weeks.

Lynne watched from below, leaning against the crooked tree, arms crossed. Harry landed after an hour, sweat-soaked and grinning like mad. He stood there, broom in hand, heart hammering in his chest.

"You look lighter, happy." Lynne said.

"I am happy." he replied, with a huge smile.
​

---

The wind curled under Harry's broom as he shot upward over the back field, the Nimbus 2001 humming softly in his grip. The broom answered every shift of his body like it had known him for years. No pulling, no lag, just pure flight.

For a while, he forgot the tension in the house. Forgot the quiet way Lynne had reemerged from the basement, too composed, too balanced. Forgot Thorne's smile that never felt quite sincere.

Up here, above the treetops and far from the dark stone walls, he could just be… a boy on a broom again. He spun into a sharp dive and skimmed the tips of the wild grass before pulling up in a wide arc. The sky stretched wide and blue overhead. A few clouds drifted like lazy ships, the sun casting soft gold across the trees.

At the far end of the field, resting in the shadow of a half-broken sundial, sat a small pile of packages and letters that had arrived with Hedwig that morning.

Hermione had sent him a slim leather-bound book. 'Advanced Defensive Charms and their Histories', annotated in the margins with her notes. Anthony Goldstein had sent a box of rosewater taffy, spelled not to stick to your teeth.

Padma enclosed two bars of imported honey chocolate wrapped in Ravenclaw blue ribbon. Terry Boot had included a single sarcastic note and a brand-new charmed quill that wrote in shimmering ink: "Because you clearly need help catching up."

And Hagrid... Hagrid had sent the one that made Harry's throat catch the most. A small photo album, bound in dragon hide, filled with wizarding pictures of James and Lily Potter.

He hadn't opened it yet. He wasn't ready with the mirror still in his mind. He flew faster, trying to get away from his thoughts. But as he rounded the far edge of the field, something strange happened.

The wind changed. A sudden jolt in the current, like someone had cast a minor squall. Then he felt feathers crashing against him, dozens of them, all fluttering too fast, too close.

A swarm of birds, tiny ones. Darting in jerky patterns. Not attacking directly, but flying just wrong enough to throw him off balance.

The broom wobbled. He cursed and adjusted, but he was drifting. Further out. The air shifted again like going through a spider web. He realized too late: The wardline.

And then his broom dropped, almost violently. Just a soft, terrifying tilt and a pull toward the ground. Harry hit the field hard, rolled once, and landed flat on his back with the wind knocked from him.

A pair of feet landed beside him, small, thin, and bare. Sitting down he looked up to see another house-elf. This one in ragged clothes and almost malnourished.

"Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!" a voice wailed, shrill and urgent. "Great danger comes! Great danger! He must not—"

"Who are you?" Harry gasped.

The elf stood, shaking, his ears twitching wildly. "Dobby tried to keep the letters away! So that maybe Harry Potter wouldn't want to return, but she interferes all the time. Dobby tried! You…"

Then a shadow fell over them both. Dobby turned, eyes wide with terror. Lynne landed hard on the field, her wand already drawn. Dobby tried to vanish, but her hex was faster.

"Incarcerous."

The air shimmered, ropes bound him mid-step, locking him in place. He fell with a thud, squealing. A rope tightened to his neck. The birds scattered into the sky with a burst of wind.

Lynne was at Harry's side in two strides, her hand on his shoulder, the other one pointed directly at Dobby's heart.

"Are you hurt?" she said, voice flat, too calm.

Harry coughed, sitting up. "Yeah. He was warning me. About danger at Hogwarts. Weird way to do it, throwing me off my broom and keeping my letters from me."

Lynne's eyes didn't leave Dobby. "Mmm…Help can wear many masks."

He didn't want the elf to suffer anymore. "Can you release him?"

At that moment Dobby freed his arm enough to click his fingers and in a soft pop he was gone. The ropes dissolved the moment he disappeared.

Harry blinked, then he felt one arm hooked under his elbow; the other grabbed his broom. In a blink of motion, Lynne dragged them both backward, stepping through the wardline like a swimmer returning to shore. The magic washed over them again. Lynne let go of Harry only once they were clear.

"You crossed the wards." she said.

"I didn't mean to…"

"You can't afford to be careless, please, Harry."

Harry rubbed his arm, breathing hard.

"Do you think he was telling the truth?"

Lynne glanced at the sky. "Maybe."

She looked at him finally. "But I think you want to go to Hogwarts anyway."

Harry nodded.

"You will have me by your side then."
​

---

The Order of the Phoenix had reassembled for the third time in two weeks, and this time the tension was thinner, more brittle, like everyone had run out of rage and now sat in the hollow silence that followed it.

Moody paced near the door, his magical eye twitching. The man had gone through a bad ordeal recently and he was more paranoid than usual. Kingsley leaned on a cane that wasn't entirely decorative, reading from a crumpled list of names they'd already questioned.

Molly Weasley sat with her hands wringing a worn tea cloth, Arthur beside her trying to look composed and failing. Elphias Doge, Emmeline Vance, and Mundungus all had their usual corners, quiet, impatient, or fidgeting. Albus as usual was quiet.

"I still can't believe it." Molly murmured. "Gone. And no one saw anything?"

Minerva spoke at last, her voice cool, precise. "It's not just that he's gone. It's who took him away."

A knock on the door pulled her out of her own thoughts. Dedalus Diggle entered, cloak dripping from the rain outside.

"Got something." he said quickly, waving a folded parchment. "From the Grangers' owl box. This was there. Addressed to Hermione."

He dropped the letter on the table. Minerva opened it. As she read, the room stilled. Harry's words were clear. Vague on purpose, but unmistakable.

I'm safe, sorry for not replying. Lynne's with me and we went to her place. Don't worry about me, having a great summer.

Minerva sat stiffly at the end of the long table, the crackling fireplace behind her the only source of warmth in the otherwise cold room.

A pause. "Well, it seems he is with Miss Volant."

"Volant." said Moody. "I'm not familiar with them."

"What do we know of her?" asked Doge under his breath.

"She's a student." Arthur offered. "A child. Ron spoke about her in a letter, apparently she has metal prosthetics and is Harry's best friend."

Minerva's lips pressed together. "A child who fought a full-grown troll without flinching, maimed a seventh-year student, won a battle against a possessed teacher and walks the corridors like she was born for war at the age of eleven."

"Damn." Moody muttered. "And I thought we were finally having a good year with all those death eaters dead."

"Do we know where her family is located?" asked Molly.

"No. We don't know who her family even is. I will search for her family information. There should be records in the ministry." Dumbledore finally spoke.
​

---

Later that night, alone in his office, Dumbledore finally sat at his desk. On top of it sat Lynne Volant's file.

He remembered weeks before how Madam Pomfrey had come to him, voice tight and eyes wary.

"She isn't human, Albus. I have checked her over, and there are more parts in her than flesh. I don't know how she got past the Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance but I'm not sure she should be here."

He hadn't expelled her, or even contacted her parents. He had watched instead, helped her recover to the best of their abilities. She seemed to care for Harry. That much had been clear. But now she had taken him from the protections of the Dursleys.

He opened her file and there it was. Her parents were deceased. "Guardian: Solan Thorne." His breath caught.

"I had hoped you were dead." Dumbledore whispered. "You were never supposed to come back."
​

---

"Why suffer fools when you can build them smart?" - Solan Thorne.

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Even the all-mighty wizard undermines the unknown, the muggle, without knowing the huge capabilities of what someone can do without any ounce of magic. You don't need a miracle to lift yourself up to greater heights, you don't need something magical to pull yourself together. Believe in yourself, it's the only 'magic' you need.

---

Chapter 11 - Forecasting

The air inside the Burrow was thick with tension, the kind that settled deep in old wood and stale portraits. A long table dominated the kitchen room, lit only by flickering candles and the weak twilight seeping in through the grimy windows. The Order of the Phoenix was in full attendance.

Minerva McGonagall sat ramrod straight, her expression pinched, lips in a tight line. Beside her, Alastor Moody leaned against the wall, one magical eye whirring in place, always watching, while a pink haired girl was standing beside him.

Arthur and Molly Weasley whispered worriedly between themselves, while Emmeline Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, Mundungus Fletcher, Severus Snape and Elphias Doge filled the remaining chairs. All eyes turned to Dumbledore as he stood at the head of the table.

"It's confirmed." Dedalus Diggle said, breaking the silence. "Harry Potter has been writing to his friends. The letter I intercepted was addressed to Miss Granger. He's with Lynne Volant, the problem being we don't know where exactly."

The reaction was immediate. Minerva inhaled sharply. Kingsley straightened. Moody's eye froze for a beat.

"Well, do we know who the girl is staying with?" Emmeline said slowly. "We've discussed that we didn't know her family, other than them being from France originally we have no knowledge of them."

"Yes, we do know now." Dumbledore said quietly. "I have learned the identity of her guardian." he placed a file on the table, and the members gathered moved closer to take a peek.

On its first page, a propaganda picture was attached, the silhouette of a tall man stood, his build lean but not frail, his presence gave this eerie feeling of strength, someone trained, his muscles worked up. There was tension to his frame, the way a hawk might be weary.

His robes were dark-midnight blues, obsidian black tailored close to his frame, not flamboyant, but refined in the way someone dresses when armor is no longer appropriate.

His hair had faded to a smoky ash color, kept short and swept back in a way that revealed a widow's peak. A fine scar cut across his left temple, hidden in most lights, revealed in only the harshest glare. His beard was a permanent stubble, neither careless nor kept.

One eye was cloudy, a pale ring of old magic damage or possibly a curse-scar that lingered on his face. The other, vivid steely gray, staring at the camera calmly. His expressions were minimal, lips that rarely curled more than slightly, brows that furrowed only when deep in thought.

His stance looked guarded in the picture, his stare dead center. His hands both occupied, one on his cane, the other brandishing his wand.

"Merlin's beard. That's Solan Thorne." muttered Arthur.

That name changed the mood entirely. A sense of wariness, deep and sharp, now sat in all of their faces.

"Thought he was dead." Kingsley said.

"We all did." added Elphias Doge. "He vanished before Voldemort's fall."

"Well, I did say he disappeared too cleanly for his style." Moody grunted. "No known fight. Just gone."

Minerva's voice was firm, but tight. "Are you certain, Albus?"

Dumbledore nodded once. "It is him. I know for certain it's Solan." He let the room fall into silence before he continued.

"I'm sorry, who is he?" muttered the girl next to Moody.

"Sorry I forgot you had not yet graduated." he answered.

"Well, he first appeared in 1975. No known magical lineage, no school records. Out of the blue for most of us actually. Yet, he convinced Minister Minchum to enlist him for the ministry, and he proved himself invaluable in predicting Death Eater movements. Although almost no one knew how, he claimed to be a Divination Master, something I doubt to this day, even if he was correct many times."

Molly frowned. "He worked with the Department of Mysteries, didn't he?"

"Yes." Dumbledore said. "He rose quickly. Too quickly I would say. He gained unprecedented access and it was rumoured that he was conducting dangerous experiments to come up with advantages in the war. He led internal purges, exposed sympathizers in the Ministry. He helped push through the use of Unforgivables before the first war's end."

"He helped us win, with his help and that of Crouch." Moody said. "His methods were brutal, but he gave us the edge."

Minerva's mouth was tight. "At what cost?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Precisely. He also led the charge and successfully eradicated giants off the English isles. A mass genocide of the entire species, they left none alive." He finished solemnly.

After a pause he continued. "He also tried to push for a similar campaign against Vampires but he was denied by minister Bagnold. They feared that it would push the small number of vampires and werewolves that had not joined Voldemort's side to do so needlessly."

"He was injured multiple times. Famously by Bellatrix Lestrange when he assaulted their manor, after somehow discovering its location. He was blinded in one eye and left with permanent damage to his leg during that attack. The Lestranges ended up escaping and a few people died on both sides."

"And then." Kingsley said, "He retaliated by going to France to kill a branch of the Lestrange family that had escaped 3 decades earlier. It was an international scandal but risking an involvement in the war, France decided not to pursue legal options."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. After that he returned home and gave a warning to the Potters and the Longbottoms of the impending danger. We thought they were safe already with the fidelius, and we all know what happened to them in the end."

"Some believe he simply burned out or was killed in the later stages in the war. The ministry wanted to save face and the new management never recognized his achievements. But now it seems he's back. I have no doubts, placing Miss Volant at Hogwarts is part of his plans."

Arthur frowned. "What do we know of her parents?."

"Little." Dumbledore said. "I've found no record of her parents other than the fact that they are dead. No relatives have come forward and the last Volant we know of married to the Lestrange family at the beginning of the century."

Snape grunted. "Thorne is no parent, of that we can be sure. He is using her."

Dumbledore's fingers drummed softly on the table. "Yes. And his plans involve young Harry. But from what I've seen she is very protective of him, I'm just worried they are manipulating him."

"What should be worrying is what Thorne has seen that warrants that protection. What are you not telling us, Albus?" Moody snarled.

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment. "She is a child trained by him, probably for war. I fear he might have created a weapon, enough to fight death eaters again. I didn't want to voice it with everyone, but this year I devised a trap that confirmed my worst fears. The dark lord still lives."

"And you believe Thorne saw that Harry needs protection and placed this child with him." finished Snape.

"If you can believe Thorne devines the future, then it is worrying." Vance muttered.

"He isn't a seer, or at least no one could confirm he was, and multiple people said he didn't have the gift at all." said Kingsley.

Minerva's voice was soft. "Albus, there is more isn't there?"

"Yes. Madam Pomfrey told me the girl is not human. Thus there are grounds to expel her if we need to. I haven't even considered it, now even less so. I ignored Thorne's premonitions too many times in the past, I don't think I want to this time."

He said, closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again his gaze pictured determination.

"That doesn't mean I will let him to his own devices, I will try to get Harry from him as soon as possible. That he now knows where he lives means he cannot go back to his muggle relatives, he will find a way to take him away."

"We can house him for the summer." said Molly.

"What do we do, Albus? Do you want us to prepare to retrieve Harry?" Arthur asked.

Dumbledore's eyes glittered behind his half-moon spectacles. "Not yet, for now we wait."

He turned from the table, staring out the window into the dark fields and growing dusk.

"I hoped I wouldn't have to deal with Thorne ever again." he whispered. "But alas, the world rarely grants us such mercy."

A man who had vanished, one with foresight that he shouldn't have. A girl who shouldn't exist. And Harry, caught between them both.
​

---

The courtyard behind the safehouse was still cool from the morning. A thick veil of mist clung low to the grass, catching in the uneven stones beneath Harry's shoes. Pale light filtered through the high trees surrounding the manor, and a distant birdsong laced with the soft hum of magic carried across the breeze.

Lynne stood at the far end of their practicing area. She wore dark robes cinched at the waist, sleeves rolled up just past the curve of her prosthetic arms, both wands strapped into their holsters. Her posture was faultless, feet set in a stance so practiced Harry doubted she even thought about it anymore. Her blonde hair, slightly tousled, caught in the wind but never seemed out of place.

Harry held his own wand loosely. He had been improving his angle and speed with the stinging hex now. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and he was having issues keeping his concentration.

"Again." Lynne said. Her voice was calm, but insistent.

He cast the spell aiming at her head. The spell sizzled through the air and she blocked it with one of her hands. The metallic ring gave him the queue to start a second spell knowing that he hadn't been able to surprise her. Before he could finish it though, a scarlet light hit him and his wand was sent flying.

It was one of those moments where Lynne would get serious, it had caught him by surprise multiple times now, he just wasn't fast enough to think about dodging. Still, she didn't scold him, she just nodded.

"You're thinking too much about hitting me, and where you are aiming. You need to think about how to flow from one spell to the next, which motion can be chained together so that you don't stop from the first spell to the next."

He glanced at her. "Easy to say but I also have to watch out for your attack."

She gave him a smile. "Well, yes. Eventually you will be able to do both. But don't worry about hitting exactly your target if you know your opponent sees it coming. If it can be blocked or dodged then it will happen. With that in mind, try again."

He tried. This time, the hex cracked through the air and she dodged, fast as he could he sent a second one before he was disarmed again.

She gave a nod of approval and stepped back. "Better. If you can manage to up your speed a bit more it will be a great advantage. The purpose is not giving your opponent time to think."

An hour passed. Then another. She pushed him hard, but never unkindly. When he got it right, she told him so. When he got it wrong, she showed him how to fix it. Sometimes with words. Sometimes by demonstrating so quickly and flawlessly it made his stomach turn.

They paused for water, sitting beneath a wide oak tree whose bark twisted into runes. The mist had burned away, replaced by a heavy stillness. Lynne drank deeply, then leaned back, arms on her knees, gaze on the horizon.

Harry found himself watching her. Noticing things. How quiet she could be. How the light made her metal fingers glint like polished glass. How still she sat, like nothing ever crept under her skin.

"Can I ask you something?"

She nodded without turning.

"Why are we training so much in the first place?"

"You have enemies, Harry. It's only natural to prepare." She answered.

"Well yes, but you were training before that, if you were not my friend, you wouldn't even have to worry."

"My mentor trained me to be able to help me. He fought against dark wizards for a long time, he has his fair share of enemies, so he needed to train me, otherwise he wouldn't be able to take care of me."

"What was it like?"

A long pause. Then she spoke, carefully. "Structured. He woke me early. We drilled before breakfast. Every spell had a counter. Every mistake had a lesson. There were weeks we didn't leave the training halls."

Harry frowned. "That sounds exhausting."

She glanced at him. "It was, but also it was more than just training."

"More?"

She looked away again. "He taught so many things. To fight without magic. To endure pain without flinching. He tested my limits and then made new ones. He gave me the tools to be able to survive, but also the means to satisfy my desire to help him. He took care of me, so I want to do the same for him."

"Do you like him?"

"I do, I love him."

Harry thought about that. About what it meant to be raised with such purpose in life, for someone you love. But he also felt that she never chose her path and is following whatever his mentor wants. Having no one he loved like that made him feel that he would never fully understand what that is like.

She tilted her head. "He gave me a name, a home, a reason to live. Wouldn't you want to give that favor back?"

He didn't answer. Because he didn't know. If he thought about it, the Dursley gave him a horrible name, they gave him a place to stay but he never felt that it was his home. His reason to live was missing.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind, he wasn't at the Dursleys anymore. Instead he asked about what he had to endure in her training and she gave him a detailed overview of what sounded like painful years learning magic, how to control her body, how to fight.

A few things unsettled him, she was trained to kill people and she mentioned it like it was nothing. Looking back, he never tried discussing Quirrell's death with her because she looked troubled after everything that happened, but it seemed that wasn't something she considered an issue anymore.

Harry hoped she wasn't trying to train him to kill someone as well.
​

---

"What do you think this is?"

She leaned in, curiosity plain. He unwrapped a folded slip of parchment to reveal a doodle he'd drawn of a plane, a stick figure cartoon version of her riding it like a broom.

She blinked at it. "I have no idea. What... is this?"

"A joke… Well, sort of. That's an airplane. It's how muggles get around when they have to travel long distances and obviously can't Apparate."

Lynne stared, confused. "Looks like a wiener. With holes on the side."

"Yes, but those aren't holes, they are windows. And it flys, it has wings and everything." he said, trying not to burst laughing.

"Do Muggles ride them like that?" She looked at him.

"No, they just sit inside, they move too fast and too high for that." he answered, chuckling.

"That's… weird." she said as she gave him a disbelieved look.

Harry finally laughed, too hard, maybe, but it felt good. "You're not wrong. But it's part of life out there. You want to hear more?"

She nodded, and they spent the next hour trading questions. He told her about cartoons and pencils and how Muggles had crazy devices, he told her about stereos that played music without magic. She asked what television was and why pens leaked ink if you clicked them too much.

When he described a theme park, she looked horrified. "And people willingly go upside down in metal cages with wheels, moving faster than a snitch for fun?"

He grinned. "You're terrifying on a broom, but roller coasters scare you?"

"They sound ridiculous."

"Well, I've never been to one but I would like to go someday."

He smiled and she smiled back at him. "I would like to see one too."

And just like that, for a moment, they weren't the boy-who-lived and the girl-with-metal-hands. They were just two kids, sitting under a tree, sharing parts of the world the other one didn't know.

When the sun dipped lower, and the shadows stretched long, Lynne stood. "We have two hours of light. Back to training."

Harry groaned but stood. He was sore, tired, but lighter somehow. As they faced each other once more in the dueling ring, Lynne raised her wand, her stance perfect.

"Ready?"

He nodded.

"Tomorrow we can rest and spend the day flying if you manage to hit me a few times."

"Oh, it's on." he said grinning.
​

---

The owl came just after breakfast. Virgil Fowler sat by the open window of his family's study, quill in hand and parchment untouched. The morning sun filtered through gauzy curtains, casting soft gold across the ink-stained desk. Outside, the garden buzzed faintly with summer insects, but inside the room, everything was quiet.

He blinked, not recognizing the owl. It wasn't the rich, sandy barn owls from the school post, nor the common brown of the school's delivery birds. This one was sleek, mottled like ash and steel, with wings that barely made a sound as it landed beside his plate. Its eyes were bright, intelligent, and oddly… sharp.

It looked at him like it had something to say.

A small scroll of parchment was tied carefully to its leg, sealed with dark wax. Not Hogwarts wax. He hesitated, fingers brushing the edges before untying it. The owl remained, watching him with an eerie kind of stillness.

Fowler,

I should have said something before the end of term, but there was no right moment. I should have expressed my gratitude to you then. Your choice to help us came at the right moment.

I don't want to think how using a second wand would have changed the outcome of what happened at the end of the year.

I'm not good with words, and even less with feelings, but you helped me at a time when you were needed. You didn't ask for anything in return either. That matters more than I can explain.

So thank you. I hope your summer holidays are going smoothly.

Be well.

Lynne Volant.

Virgil read it twice. Slowly.

He hadn't thought she'd remember. Not really. The whole thing had been chaotic, reckless even. Sneaking her wand back into her hands felt like a small thing at the moment. A calculated gesture in the gravity of the situation that the younger students presented his head of house at the time.

Now, alone in the stillness of his family study, he couldn't stop replaying the look on her face at the end-of-year feast. She had just sat still while students clapped and cheered, looking lost and spooked.

He folded the parchment carefully, tucking it into the inside of his robes. The owl, which had been silently watching, gave a soft hoot and spread its wings. It lifted off without another sound, disappearing into the morning sky.

Virgil leaned back slightly, gaze drifting to the sky beyond the window. It was nearly the end of the summer holidays. His final year loomed ahead like a thin thread in the air, one that felt suddenly real.

He was going to miss Hogwarts, although he still had to sit his Newts exams first before that. Even with all the bad things that had happened, it was still a safe home, away from his family troubles.

He smiled faintly, pulling his quill from the desk and began writing a reply.
​

---

The day was warm and cloudless when Lynne and Harry emerged from the Floo into the Leaky Cauldron. The sudden brightness after the green swirl of fire made Harry blink twice. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams that filtered through the warped glass, and behind the bar, Tom gave them both a nod without asking any questions. Harry appreciated his silence and discretion, and Lynne, as always, carried herself like an enigma draped in school robes.

Thorne had allowed them to go without his supervision, saying he trusted Lynne to keep both of them safe. They had written to Hermione as well to meet with her and her parents so they were going to be with adults soon anyway.

They crossed into Diagon Alley after tapping the bricks, the wall folding inward to reveal the bustling street. Merchants cried out about discounted cauldrons and unicorn hair for wands, children ran ahead of their parents to press their noses to the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and somewhere above them, an owl swooped overhead carrying a parcel tightly bound in brown paper.

Harry felt a rush of nostalgia. It had only been a year since he first stood here, overwhelmed and wide-eyed, but now he knew the rhythm of the place, the sounds, the smells, the chaotic beauty. It felt like coming home.

Lynne walked beside him, eyes scanning each storefront not with curiosity but with the trained awareness, she looked like a bodyguard. She seemed to catalogue every person they passed, noting who looked too long, who stepped too close. She remained silent, but her posture alone made others step aside.

"We should get our books first." Harry offered, trying to break the tension. "Flourish and Blotts?"

She nodded.

"Did Hermione say where she would meet us?"

"I think knowing her, she will be there already."

The shop was, surprisingly, even more packed than usual. As they reached the steps, they found a sign mounted on a brass stand. It advertised for a man called Gilderoy Lockhart, who was signing copies of his books.

Harry groaned. "Of course it had to be today of all days."

Inside, the place was madness. Lynne shoved a few people away as they moved, trying to find Hermione. Witches in expensive robes jostled for position, waving books and squealing. Lockhart sat atop a velvet-draped table near the back, his perfect white teeth gleaming as he signed a copy of Wandering With Werewolves with a dramatic flourish.

"Oh no," Harry muttered. "He saw me."

Before he could move, Lockhart's voice rang out over the crowd. "Harry Potter! Just the young man I wanted to see!"

The crowd turned as one. Lynne stiffened beside him, but Harry sighed and stepped forward reluctantly.

"Come, come," Lockhart beamed, grabbing Harry by the shoulder. "A perfect photo opportunity. The savior of the wizarding world, and the champion of dark creature rights, together at last!"

Flashbulbs erupted like fireworks. Lynne had moved to stand behind Harry, her arms crossed. Harry was sure she was calculating how many seconds it would take to incapacitate everyone in the shop.

"Nice big smile, Harry, together you and I deserve the front page!" he said.

Lockhart held up the seven-volume set of his collected works.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning to purchase my autobiography Magical Me...which, incidentally, is currently celebrating its twenty-seventh week atop the Daily Prophet bestseller list, he had no idea that he would, in fact, be leaving with my entire collected works free of charge."

As the crowd cheered, Harry saw Hermione and just wanted to bolt out of his grasp but apparently he wasn't done talking.

"And perhaps to your friend as well?"

"No." Lynne said flatly. "Let's go, Harry."

They gave him a stack of books and with Lynne's help they stored them in an expendable pouch Throne had given him.

Harry escaped soon after, dragging Lynne with him. "I think I saw Hermione waiting for us outside."

As they were exiting the store Draco Malfoy was outside looking at Harry with disdain.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"If you don't want to go missing inside a trunk, you will step aside, Mr Malfoy." Lynne said as she stood in front of Harry.

Draco paled instantly, clearly having ignored Harry's friend's presence until now. Thankfully his father this time was there to come to the blonde's aid.

"Now, now, Draco. Behave, please. Mr. Potter." He said as he extended his hand for a handshake. "Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last." He was about to close the distance but a cold hand stopped him.

"You must be Volant." He said with disdain and clear annoyance. "You are quite bold." He said while stepping back and gripping his cane. Harry thought that he wanted to hit her, his intentions clear in his furious glare.

"Not as bold as using a 7th year student to do your dirty work. I'd be careful if I were you." she said.

While Harry's head was spinning with the implications of what his friend just said, Lynne took a step further and whispered something that sounded quite like a threat. Malfoy looked even more infuriated but gave no reply. Instead he turned and marched to the side where the Weasley family was seemingly waiting.

"What did you mean, Lynne? You made it sound like he was the one responsible for Rowle attacking us."

"Not now, Harry." She said simply.

After a moment she followed the Malfoy pair and Harry hurried behind her, he didn't like where this was going. As they approached the group, Malfoy seemed to be antagonizing the red heads for some reason.

After criticizing their choice of buying second hand books to their appearances, apparently he went too far at an underhand comment and it all escalated quickly. The one who Harry assumed was the father of the Weasley family, enraged, attacked Malfoy with nothing but his fists.

They were separated shortly after, and the Malfoy family departed quickly after that. He lamented their antics, it was clear now to him that Lynne's warning about them being enemies last year proved to be correct. They were still animus and openly hostile even if they hardly knew each other.

When they were able to exit the situation finally, Hermione surprised Harry with a crushing hug. Apparently she was close and had spotted them first. Then another one for Lynne who gave her a small smile. Of course off she went into her usual non stop chatter, talking about her summer to Harry who patiently listened.

"Greetings, Mr and Mrs Granger." Lynne said with a small bow, breaking her rant.

"OH! Right, Mom, Dad. These are my friends."

"We have heard so much about you both, you must be Harry." said Mr. Granger, extending a hand to Harry first. He was tall, thin, with a receding hairline and kind eyes. The sort that belonged to someone more used to giving gentle advice than stern orders. His handshake was firm but careful.

Harry smiled, a little unsure. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"And you must be Lynne." Mrs. Granger added, turning to the blonde girl. She was shorter than her husband, with dark brown hair pulled neatly into a clip and the same intelligent spark behind her eyes that Hermione had when she was about to correct someone.

She looked Lynne up and down with quiet curiosity. "You didn't lie hun, she does look like a very pretty doll."

"Mom!" yelped Hermione, embarrassed.

"Yes, it's a pleasure." Lynne said, her voice polite and controlled.

"Hermione's tales were always full of your names. It's nice to put faces to the stories."

"Mom." Hermione hissed slightly, her cheeks still blushed.

"I only meant the good stories of course." Mrs. Granger teased, clearly delighted to see her daughter so flustered.

"Well, you can't expect us to not be curious." Mr. Granger added with a chuckle.

It was odd, seeing muggles walk so calmly through Diagon Alley as if it wasn't strange at all. As if the talking mirrors and self-sorting inkpots didn't make their heads spin. But then again, maybe they were just very good at pretending, for their daughter's sake. Or maybe, Harry thought, they had already decided that magic was just another subject to understand.

The rest of the trip passed without incident, they went hopping from shop to shop, having a nice time. Overall, Harry felt that the trip was quite fun. Lynne carried herself calmly, but Harry noticed her eyes drifted more often to the people around them.

Several people are following us, Harry. We might have to use plan C to get back.

Harry was again startled by the sudden voice in his head. He quickly placed a hand in his pocket and gently activated his watch.

We could use my cloak to lose them. He replied.

Lynne looked conflicted but didn't voice a reply instantly, thinking it over. As they waved the Grangers goodbye and Hermione gave them another hug for parting gift, his heart was beating fast.

I already know who they are, don't worry, plan C is better.

Harry nodded slowly.

"Zicky."

In a swirl, Harry's world was turned upside down and put back again as he was apparated to Thorne's manor. All of his supplies safely tucked away and they were essentially ready to go back to Hogwarts come september.
​

---

"Lost them."

The words were sour in Moody's mouth even before Kingsley said them aloud.

He stood near the front steps of Quality Quidditch Supplies, his magical eye whirling in frantic circles beneath his bowler hat. Around him, Diagon Alley bustled like a stirred beehive, parents shouting prices, children dragging pets, and owls flapping overhead with parchment and squawk.

But no sign of them. They were keeping a close eye up until that moment. As Moody thought about it, he came to the conclusion they had either gone invisible with Potter's famous cloak or apparated outside of Diagon Alley.

No flash of blonde hair, no dark-haired boy with a lightning scar. The girl moved like a ghost when she wanted. The boy... well, he was harder to hide, but they'd done it somehow. Probably right out of the bloody heart of wizarding London already.

"Damn it." Moody growled, turning away from the crowd. "We were right on them."

Tonks arrived next, winded and red in the face. "Did they vanish again?"

"They bloody well did." Kingsley said, more composed but clearly annoyed. "One second, they were waving goodbye to Hermione's parents, and the next they were not there anymore."

"Gone." Moody spat again, as if the word offended him personally. "Not even a shimmer. And I couldn't find them either with my eye. We are not sure that the cloak Dumbledore mentioned counters it, but I certainly didn't see them anymore."

They stood in an alley between Flourish and Blotts and the old Apothecary, where the flow of foot traffic was thinner. Nymphadora looked almost as frustrated as he felt right now.

"I thought they were going to stay with the Grangers longer." she said sheepishly. "What should we do now?"

"You thought?" Moody barked. "You were supposed to be tailing them now."

"I was! But the Grangers were talking to some clerk about flossing charms and-"

"Silence." Moody raised a hand. His magical eye locked for a beat on a shadow between two passing witches with floating cauldrons. Just a man in a dark coat. He was quite sure that Thorne had not even set foot on diagon alley, which spoke volumes of his trust on the girl he probably trained. He exhaled through his nose, rough and gravelly.

Emmeline Vance staggered into view also looking out of breath, earning her a glare from Kingsley.

"You tellin' me they gave us the slip?" Vince said, blinking.

"No, I'm telling you they bloody evaporated." Moody snarled. "And they did it right under our noses."

"Well if they had the cloak, I didn't see it with them." Tonks frowned. "You can't Apparate in the middle of Diagon Alley."

"We don't know yet how. But the girl knew we were following them." Kingsley mused.

"Perhaps they had help." Moody added grimly. "A house-elf could be involved. We barely know what resources Thorne could have acquired. You think a creature like that couldn't walk through a Ministry ward with his eyes shut?"

"Well, that thought has merit. House-elfs could swoop in and take them to their manor, as long as they are employed at the location they apparate to." said Kingsley. "It would also be quick enough for us to miss it."

A beat passed between them. The sound of a street musician's flute floated through the summer air. Children laughed in the distance. Somewhere a spell exploded in green sparks and no one even flinched.

"Alastor." Vance said quietly, "if they can slip past all of us, even within Diagon Alley, what else can we do?"

"I don't know but for one I am glad that school will soon start." Moody said flatly. "I don't want to imagine what more time in Thorne's presence could do to him." He said.

"That girl's eyes don't scan a room like a child's. She's always searching for escape routes, she is too aware and always in a defensive stance. The moment anything feels off, she will probably not even ask questions."

"She's dangerous." Kingsley agreed, folding his arms. "And we still don't know how far Thorne taught her to go."

"And Harry trusts her." Tonks murmured, troubled. "He's just a boy, they might already be manipulating him."

Moody's magical eye flicked toward the upper windows of Madam Malkin's. "That's what worries me. If she's dangerous… and he trusts her, what would happen if we act against her?"

No one spoke. A few seconds later, Elphias Doge arrived with a small scroll in his hand. "Dumbledore wants a report tonight. He's calling a meeting with the rest of the order. Said there's new information on Thorne."

Moody's good eye narrowed. "Then maybe it's time we stopped chasing shadows and do something productive for once." He turned on his heel, pulling the collar of his cloak higher against the sunlight. "Come on. Let's tell the old man how close we got."

He didn't say how furious it made him, to be so close to the boy and yet so far. Even if they'd had them right there, they might escape either way.
​

---

Luna Lovegood walked three steps behind her father, as always. It let her watch the world properly. Diagon Alley was busy, bubbling with chatter and footfalls, but she floated through it, barefoot in her mind and gently humming under her breath.

Her shoes made little squeaks every time she paused, which was often. There were so many things to look at. A woman selling enchanted feathers waved as she passed. A group of students arguing about cauldron polish nearly tripped over a Kneazle cage.

Looking around pleased with so many colors, she saw a strange girl. One blonde like her, with a sharp gaze, the sun reflecting on her hands at times.

Luna stopped walking. Her father kept going. The girl moved like water under glass. Fluid but robust at the same time. Her hair was clean and tidily tied back, and her sleeves were too long, almost like they were hiding something.

Next to her walked a boy with untidy hair and glasses, one who Luna recognized instantly. She was quite sure everyone did, although in the busy street no one was stopping for him. Harry Potter.

But it wasn't him she focused on, the girl was far more interesting. She had no creatures following her. No Blibbering Humdingers floating near her ears. No teasing Nargles clinging to her braid. No Puffpaws curling around her ankles. Nothing. Even the light, that strange hum of magic that lingered around everyone, didn't wrap around her the same. It pulled away from her like she was a stone in the river.

And yet, she was full of magic. Stuffed with it, knotted up in the chest. Luna tilted her head. The girl smiled at something Harry said, but there was no laugh.

Her eyes scanned the crowd as they moved, always darting, always distant. A walking contradiction, she thought. On one hand, she looked devoid of life, on the other, full of it.

Her father's voice broke her thoughts. "Luna? Come along, darling, we're going to miss the owl post rush." She gave one last glance over her shoulder. The girl with no creatures was disappearing into the crowd.
​

---

"Merlin's beard. That's Solan Thorne." muttered Arthur.​

Click to shrink...

"Jesus christ. That's Jason bourne." - Arthur apparently.

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Sometimes, all you have to do is ask, and the doors will open up, just like that. Don't be afraid, the negative answer or lack of knowledge is already there, the only way to turn that around is taking the first step and ask the questions.
​

---

Chapter 12 - Restart

The morning was damp and heavy with the smell of rain as Harry and Lynne arrived at King's Cross Station. His trunk rolled noisily across the wet pavement, and Hedwig's cage was draped in a soft woolen cloth to keep her calm.

Once they arrived at the station, he set Hedwig free, Lynne had told him that she could make the flight to the castle without issues. Then, he pulled his wand out and resized his trunk and cage to put it in his pocket.

The station bustled with the familiar rush of early travelers, umbrellas clashing, steam hissing from a train further down the line. But something felt off.

Harry glanced at the towering wall that separated Platforms 9 and 10. He recognized it easily by now, just walk straight through and you'd find yourself at Platform 9¾. But today, he felt better than the first time, in the company of a friend.

They stopped a few feet short of the barrier. Harry looked at Lynne, who was standing perfectly still, her metal fingers tapping lightly against the handle of her trunk. Her eyes narrowed.

"What?" he asked.

"The barrier is looking strange." she said flatly. "Give it a try, but with caution."

He broke into a soft jog and aimed straight at the wall, hands forward just in case. The moment he reached it, the barrier didn't yield. His hands collided softly against the wall and he was glad he didn't try it first full head on.

He yelped surprised at the sudden hardness, followed by a groan as Harry's mind went into panic. Lynne was already at his side, metal hand steadying his shoulder.

"It's closed somehow." she murmured.

"What? It should be open." Harry said, rubbing his shoulder. "We're not late, are we?"

"No. It's 10:32. The train doesn't leave until eleven." She stepped forward, placed her palm against the wall, then withdrew it with a frown. "There's magic holding it shut. It's not something I recognize."

Harry's mind raced. Could someone be trying to stop him from returning to school? Was this another warning like that weird house-elf had given him? Speaking of house-elves. Without a sound, a small figure popped into existence beside them.

"Zicky!" He gasped.

"Master Potter, Miss Volant," said Zicky, bowing so low his nose nearly brushed the pavement. "Zicky is pleased to be in your presence again, Zicky is at your service."

Harry blinked. "Hello Zicky, can you get us to the other side? This way is blocked."

Zicky straightened and wrung his hands. "Zicky is here to bring young masters to the train, as ordered by Master Thorne. Zicky did not expect the barrier to be... messed with. Master only mentioned the young masters needing help."

"He knew this was going to happen?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Master Thorne is always gazing into the future." Zicky said, pridefully. "Master has an amazing skill and talent in his eyes. Zicky is glad to be needed."

Harry's skin prickled. Lynne stepped forward.

"Thank you, Zicky. But I don't think you can apparate us to the other side."

"Zicky can do better!" he said proudly snapping his fingers.

In an instant, the shadows near a maintenance hallway seemed to twist. A new archway shimmered into place, stone forming where only brick had been before. It radiated a soft, silver-blue glow.

"Quickly now. Before it draws unwanted attention." Zicky urged.

Lynne didn't hesitate. She pushed her way forward, disappearing through the arch. Harry followed, trusting the urgency in the house-elf voice. He expected more brick. Instead, the moment he passed through, the world shifted. One moment he was in the station, and the next, he stood on the familiar red-brick platform of 9¾.

The Hogwarts Express stood patiently on the tracks, gleaming in the morning light, smoke curling gently from its stack. Families bustled about, trunks were being loaded, and students waved at friends they hadn't seen all summer. No one seemed to notice that Harry and Lynne had appeared from a wall that hadn't existed moments ago.

"That wasn't so bad." Harry muttered.

Zicky brushed off his waistcoat proudly. "House-elf's magic is very efficient Mr. Potter. Sometimes more powerful than wizards remember."

Lynne adjusted her trunk straps. "Thank you, Zicky."

Zicky looked pleased, but bowed again. "Zicky must go now. Master's orders."

With a pop, he vanished. Harry and Lynne exchanged a glance and then smiled. The crowd hadn't thinned, but Harry could feel something different this year. The platform was bustling with students and their families, but Harry hardly noticed the noise anymore. The station had lost some of its intimidation, perhaps because he was no longer alone in the crowd.

He had the familiar figure that walked beside him, silent but steady. Lynne's presence grounded him like nothing else. Her satchel bounced slightly at her side with each step, her metal fingers tightening over his shoulders whenever he got distracted while walking through the crowd, they needed to find a compartment after all.

Now, the scarlet Hogwarts Express shimmered in the sunlight, and Harry felt that odd flutter of excitement return. The great red engine, with its white steam and chattering corridors, already felt like part of his life. He'd never realized that he thought of Hogwarts as his home now, but his time spent at Lynne's place also made him consider if he could call that his second home.

Lynne's face was as impassive as ever, and she climbed into the train like it was just another day. He pulled open the door to an empty compartment, claiming a seat by the window. Lynne followed without a word, setting her satchel down and folding her arms across her lap with robotic precision. He sat across from her this time, watching the flow of people outside the glass.

"Do you think someone's still trying to keep me from school?" he asked softly.

Lynne looked at him. "If they are, they are failing miserably."

"Yeah." Harry muttered, "I just thought back to the other house-elf that stole my letters."

She didn't reply but looked thoughtful. Before Harry could even get comfortable, the door slid open.

"Mind if we sit here?" Terry Boot was the first in, already pulling his trunk behind him. Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein followed without waiting for an answer.

"Sure, go ahead." Harry said, surprised but not unwelcoming.

"Thanks." Padma said with a smile, placing her bag neatly in the rack above. "We were looking for you guys."

"We were hoping to sit with friends this year." Anthony added, nodding toward Harry. "How was your summer?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I spent it at Lynne's manor. It was fun, we actually practiced Quidditch and flying."

The Ravenclaws exchanged glances, amused and a bit impressed. Terry laughed as he sat. "Sounds like you had a nice time. Mine was mostly books and trying to ignore my family pestering me about homework."

As if summoned by the word homework, Hermione Granger slid the compartment door open and peeked in. "Oh, hello, I finally found you guys."

"Hey, Hermione." Harry said as he smiled at her. "Make some room mates."

Hermione stepped in, eyes flicking across the faces, then settling beside Lynne with a quiet, "Hi."

The train gave a gentle lurch. Harry watched the station slide away, and with it, the last traces of summer. Conversation picked up slowly, as it does among students used to keeping their heads in books more than socializing. Padma and Terry began comparing their summer reading lists, Anthony quietly scribbled something into a notebook, and Lynne listened, impassive as ever.

Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't resist. "Did anyone else review the new Charms curriculum? They've added a whole unit on altering spell techniques."

"Isn't that mostly theoretical at our level?" Terry asked.

"Still interesting, right?" Hermione replied, defensive but calm.

Harry grinned at the tone. It felt familiar. "You'd like Lynne's spell for finding classrooms. Helped me a lot last year."

Hermione perked up. "You invented a spell?"

Lynne gave a soft nod. "It's a deviation from the Four-Point spell. Instead of pointing north, it guides you toward a visualized destination. It needs quite a bit of magic in the environment to work though."

Hermione's mouth parted slightly in surprise. "That's… really advanced. Did Professor Flitwick see it?"

"I didn't show him."

"You should." Hermione said with a nod. "Spellwork like that isn't common for second years."

Lynne looked at her slightly amused. "I came up with it when I arrived at Hogwarts last year."

While Hermione's jaw remained opened, Terry decided Quidditch was more engaging.

"So Harry, are you still planning to try out for the Quidditch team?"

"Yes, Lynne will join too! I'm quite excited about it actually."

Terry leaned over to Padma and whispered, "Calling it now: Ravenclaw wins the House Cup this year."

Padma smirked. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Slytherin should still have a good team, like last year."

"Oh Merlin." Anthony muttered, looking up. "With their luck, I can already see them getting injured."

"Probably, but I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of Lynne as a Beater" Harry said.

The laughter was easy. Even Hermione smiled. The conversation drifted as they spoke of summer vacations, books, broom practices, some light teasing and marriage talk after living with Lynne, and an overly ambitious attempt by Padma's twin to brew a dream potion that made the kitchen smell like burnt rubber for a week.

Harry found himself relaxing more with every minute. It wasn't like last year, when he'd spent the ride in awe and anxiety of all the new things he didn't know. These people weren't strangers either, they were his friends. Maybe not all were close friends, but they weren't cold faces either. He laughed when they teased Lynne for being top of the class, they even began calling her the "Ravenclaw princess".

As the conversation shifted to this year's curriculum, Lynne mostly listened, offering the occasional fact or correction when things got too silly. Hermione seemed fascinated by her. From her knowledge, to the unusual cadence of her whispery voice, even by her silence as Harry saw how she looked at Lynne at times.

"How come you always have the answer?" she asked at one point, not unkindly. "Is there something you are not good at?"

"I was prepared by the best, although it does make playing student boring. I did read a lot, I still do." Lynne said.

"Fair." Terry muttered.

The trolley came by at one point, and Harry sprang to his feet. "Anyone want anything?"

Padma and Anthony declined, Hermione asked for sugar quills, having discovered that magical sweets wouldn't cause problems with your teeth last year, and Terry handed over two sickles for some Pumpkin Pasties. Harry ordered too much again, returning with a bundle of sweets and a grin.

"That reminds me, we did sample the whole cart last year." Lynne said.

"We can make it a tradition!" Harry said.

He unwrapped a Licorice Wand, passed a Chocolate Frog to Terry, and set a bag of Every-Flavour Beans on the seat between him and Lynne. She didn't reach for them, of course, but she smiled a little when he offered and that was enough.

The compartment buzzed with laughter again when Terry ate a bean that turned out to be horseradish. Hermione took notes on the frog card and Anthony shared a sketch he made of their Charms professor dueling a jellyfish for some reason.

Somewhere between a game of wizard's trivia and debating whether Peeves had a soul, Harry realized something quietly significant. He felt… at home with friends. It was not about Hogwarts at all.

A year ago, he hadn't known any of them. Now, he had a compartment full of Ravenclaw peers, who wanted to sit with him, laugh with him, learn with him. And more than that, he had Lynne. Silent, strange, brilliant Lynne. From the moment he entered the train for the first time, to a year later laughing with a bigger group.

He glanced at her, and she was already looking at him, as if she'd felt the thought.

"Excited to be back?" she asked, her voice though damaged, spoke softly.

"Yes." He answered with conviction.

​

---

It was the first Monday back after the weekend, and the halls of Hogwarts thrummed with the sluggish energy of returning students. Most were still yawning their way through the corridors, but Harry had grown used to waking early alongside Lynne. Or rather, awakening to her staring at him, in his own room, not a hair out of place.

He didn't know if she even blinked when he was sleeping. He still wasn't sure he believed her explanation about keeping him safe, but a quick reminder of how lost she looked at the end of the year, had stopped him questioning her more about it. Besides, Anthony didn't mind it seemed, Lynne was correct that he was a very heavy sleeper.

They stepped into the corridor leading to Charms when a voice like wind chimes interrupted them.

"There you are!"

Both turned. A small, pale girl with long, straw-colored hair and large silvery eyes stood a few feet away, clutching her bag with both hands. Her socks didn't match, and she wore her robes inside out, judging by the way she curtsied as if it were a formal gown, it might have been deliberately.

"I'm Luna." she declared dreamily. "Luna Lovegood. And you are the creature's scarecrow."

Harry blinked, unsure what to say.

Lynne didn't look surprised at all though. "A new nickname for me?"

"It's not only a nickname." Luna continued, floating closer. "The creatures fear you, so you must be their scarecrow. You keep things away, and I want to know how you do it. You are basically immune somehow, I want to be like you someday."

"I see." Lynne said, her tone unchanged.

Harry looked between them, trying to decide if he needed to intervene.

"You're Harry Potter." Luna said, glancing at him only briefly. "You had Nargles following you around. They might steal your things, so be careful. You are safe now, but only when you are close to her." She pointed at Lynne.

"I might have left my Nargles at breakfast." Harry muttered skeptically.

"No, they wouldn't leave you for pumpkin juice." Luna said cheerfully. "But don't worry. If they get too many, we can shoo them with a comb and a rhyme, although with how close you two are it wouldn't be necessary. Anyway!" She turned again toward Lynne and bowed.

"Can I follow you around?"

"I suppose it doesn't hurt anybody, as long as you go to your classes when you need to."

"Of course! Thank you." The blond girl said, looking happy and relieved.

Harry was amused at the girl's antics, Luna was certainly strange but not the bad kind, and thinking about it, it was best to let the few people who would approach Lynne in the first place be. After last year's events, he was sure only new Students would dare get close to her, that is if they weren't warned by older students first.

It only took a few days but Harry and Hermione found that they enjoyed Luna's presence. She would usually ask Lynne questions about her classes and homework, about weird creatures Lynne somehow knew about. Harry realized that Luna had quickly realized she couldn't lie, and usually didn't mind answering questions about any knowledge that she had, unless it involved her mentor.

On one hand, he thought that taking advantage of Lynne was not good, but on the other hand, it was usually harmless and she didn't seem to mind the questions at all. Hermione found the courage to ask as well seeing this behavior and Lynne was bombarded with questions discussing her homework to full on magical theory lessons.

"Honestly, you know all of our year's curriculum already, it's almost as if you didn't have to attend in the first place." She voiced one time.

"I didn't. But how would I have met friends otherwise?"

Hermione looked embarrassed but happy as well with her answer, it seemed they had a lot in common from Harry's perspective. He was sure that both could self study everything that was needed to graduate, but they would be quite lonely. It seemed Lynne understood it better, or at least she voiced it as if she did.

After living with her and Thorne, Harry realized that some of the phrases she used were his, it could have been a phrase her master told her.

​

---

Defense Against the Dark Arts had become something of a joke even before the year started. Everyone knew they'd gone through a new teacher every year, and now the post was held by a man whose smile gleamed more than a polished wand and who seemed more interested in showing his own picture than teaching anyone anything.

Still, Harry was trying to be hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, Gilderoy Lockhart would know a thing or two about defense. Maybe behind the peacock blue robes and constantly flashing teeth was a real wizard who could help. Was he jealous that Hermione talked about him with dreamy eyes? Definitely not.

He couldn't keep his optimism for long, sadly. Lockhart's classroom looked more like a shrine. Dozens of large framed portraits of the man in heroic poses adorned every wall, Lockhart wrestling a banshee, Lockhart flying through the air on a broom while rescuing a veela.

Harry had to fight the urge to glance at Lynne beside him to check whether she found this as ridiculous as he did. Her face was perfectly neutral, but her eyes were already tracking every movement with a slow blink. She looked unimpressed.

"Welcome!" Lockhart boomed as he flung open the door and swept into the room with the force of a theatrical breeze.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts! I am, of course, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award…But I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at him."

He gave them all a wink that made a few girls, unfortunately, beam. Harry heard Padma whisper something snarky under her breath and Terry snorted.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books, well done. Now…I have, as a gift to you, prepared a little quiz." Lockhart continued, passing scrolls to the front rows. "Don't worry, this is just to check how much you've read them!"

"What?" said Anthony, startled.

"Oh yes." Lockhart said, clearly delighted. "Now now, pencils out, quills ready, everyone. Thirty minutes, starting now!"

Harry glanced down at the parchment. The first question was: What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color? The second: What is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date? The third: What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition? He blinked and slowly lowered his quill. Lynne didn't even touch hers.

Thirty agonizing minutes later, Lockhart collected the scrolls and gave them a bright smile. "Tut, tut. Hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. Ah! But I see Miss Abbot knows me best, almost every question right. Oh, how delightful! A true fan. 5 points to Hufflepuff."

Hannah flushed from her seat beside Lynne, who was still staring blankly at the chalkboard.

"Now! On to today's practical." Lockhart declared, clapping his hands. "Let's have some real excitement, shall we?"

With a flourish, he yanked a velvet curtain off a tall iron cage. Inside were a dozen blue creatures, fluttering wildly. They had long limbs, pointy ears, and wings that buzzed like furious wasps. They were Cornish pixies, and they looked very, very angry.

"Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizarkind. You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. I must ask you not to scream, it might… Provoke them."

"Oh no." Terry muttered. And no one else managed to say anything else.

"Let's see how you handle these little mischief-makers!" Lockhart announced. "Ready? Three, two, one!" He threw the cage door open.

Harry wanted to facepalm so hard. It was total chaos in an instant. The pixies exploded into the classroom like a bottle of shaken soda. One bit Su Li's robes and another yanked Padma's hair. A few went for Abbot's bag, flinging out books and parchment. Ink spilled, quills flew, chairs toppled.

Harry ducked as one flew at his head. "Protego!" he shouted, and the pixie bounced off a glowing shield charm Lynne had him practice over the summer. "This is insane!"

"Do something!" shouted Anthony as he fended off two with his wand, casting a spell that did absolutely nothing.

Lockhart, meanwhile, had climbed on top of his desk and was calling, "Please! Let's all remain calm, you can round them up, they are only pixies." He said as he had to dodge a flying pixie.

"Well it seems it's up to me!" He said as he raised his wand. "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

No spell came out, and even one of the pixies grabbed his wand mockingly and used it to break the chains of the iconic dragon skeleton that hung at the top of the ceiling. It came crashing down, luckily in the middle of the room where no tables were present. Harry even thought he could see a pixie riding the skeleton as it fell down.

One moment later, Lockhart was running back to his office, but he didn't even get to open the door when harry noticed his friend was on the move. Lynne did not hesitate. Her wand was out in a blink, and her voice rang out clearly over the chaos: "Depulso!" One pixie was banished mid-flight so fast it splattered against the wall, his remains fell like a stone.

"Confringo!" A blue explosion of light caught two more in a blast that singed the classroom wall. Plaster crumbled from the ceiling.

"Miss Volant!" Lockhart shrieked. "We do not use blasting curses in my classroom!"

She ignored him naturally, and kept firing spell after spell. Another pixie swooped for Harry, and he instinctively jabbed his wand.

"Descendo!" he cried.

The pixie he was aiming at came crashing down hard on top of a desk which broke at impact, throwing splinters around. Su Li ducked with a yelp, one of Lockhart's self-portraits cracked and fell off the wall.

"Merlin's beard!" shouted Lockhart. "Stop! Stop!"

By the time the last pixie was on the ground, blasted, or singed, the room looked like a war zone. Desks upturned, books smoking, and one of Lockhart's framed pictures had fallen face-first into a puddle of ink. He picked it up with trembling hands.

"You… you destroyed half my classroom." he whispered. "And for pixies! You could have captured them."

"But you didn't teach us how." Harry said bluntly.

"They were biting people, setting parchment on fire, and they almost picked a student up, I wouldn't want to know how that would have turned out." Lynne added.

"That's not the point!" Lockhart said, nearly wailing. "You two, detention! Reckless magical aggression! That was totally uncalled for and dangerous of you to do."

Lynne gave him a glare. "Perhaps next time you'll control your creatures."

Lockhart flinched at her stare. "Yes well… detention still stands!" Lockhart cried. "Seven o'clock! My office! Both of you!"

The class, recovering, began murmuring. Hannah Abbot looked horrified. Padma just leaned toward Harry and whispered, "That was brilliant."

"I didn't know it would come crashing down so hard." Harry whispered back.

"It was nice thinking." Lynne said, quietly smiling. "Proud of you, Harry."

Lockhart was still babbling something and complaining about his trashed frames. As students filed out, whispering and laughing, Harry realized he wasn't upset. Not even about the detention. In fact, as he walked beside Lynne, their robes slightly singed and their classmates patting him on the back, he felt something close to pride.

​

---

Rumors about what happened spread all throughout the school, and he was branded the "pixie slayer". It was a bit amusing and although he did feel bad for the creatures afterwards, he still was happy that Lynne was proud of him. It seemed it would be another year of hearing whispers wherever he walked but he could get used to it.

At least Lynne didn't seem bothered by it, and as he was walking to the library with her and Hermione, he saw a bunch of students coming to them. At the front was Luna looking quite smug and happily skipping forward.

"Hey, Luna." He greeted her. "Who are those?"

She gestured behind her.

Three Ravenclaw first-years stood in a huddle. wide-eyed, nervous, and clearly unsure how they had ended up here. One of them, a chubby boy with hair in his eyes, raised a timid hand.

"Er, Luna said you're the... um... answer lady?"

"I said scarecrow first." Luna corrected. "But answer lady is fine, too."

The others nodded quickly. "We also heard tales from the entire house." A girl stepped forward holding a copy of Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed. "I was wondering… is it true you broke someone's fingers for calling you a pile of screws?"

Harry stiffened but Lynne just nodded unperturbed. "He tried to grab my hair. I responded accordingly."

The first-years exchanged a look of admiration and fear.

"She's so cool." one whispered.

"I want to learn to do that."

Lynne tilted her head. "Is someone bothering you?" She asked. When the first year nodded she looked thoughtful. "We are not allowed to duel, I think it would be best if you didn't go looking for trouble."

"But what if someone tries to grab our hair?"

"Then you should respond appropriately." Lynne replied. "I guess I could teach you a spell for that."

Harry sighed and facepalmed. The procession followed them down the hall and all the way to class. Every few minutes, a new question popped up.

"Are you part goblin?"

"No."

"Is it true that you have a dagger under your clothes?"

"Yes." What? Why would she have a dagger? Harry thought. Then another more important thought… How did they know?

"Can you fly without a broom?"

"There are ways to fly without a broom. I could list them."

As Lynne was answering their questions, Harry found himself boxed in between Ravenclaws who kept glancing at him. He hoped they didn't turn their questions to him, he had no idea and he hated the spotlight. One of them finally leaned over and asked,

"Are you guys you know… together?"

He choked on his breath. Lynne, somehow having heard, replied before he could.

"We did live together for the summer."

That didn't help at all, he lamented. He knew there would be more rumours about them now. They entered the common room later that evening, Harry hoping the attention would fade. Sadly… It didn't. They just snickered between them and felt more confident to ask him about his summer. Then about his scar and all of that boy-who-lived paraphernalia.

They keep moving into the library and if Madam Pince's looks could kill, he was sure they would be dead already.

Lynne sat down in her usual corner seat, pulled a book from her satchel, and began reading. The gathered first-years watched her as if awaiting a sermon.

"Can you help me with my homework?" One asked.

"Yes."

And from there onwards, Harry knew that they wouldn't go away. Hermione looked amused and also wanted to help with their homework.

"She doesn't blink very often." one said, scribbling on a parchment. What an odd thing to note, Harry thought.

Luna sat cross-legged on the floor beside Lynne and pulled a strange necklace from her pocket. "It's so weird to not need you now." she whispered to no one in particular.

"Why did you need that necklace for?" said one of the others.

"To ward against Nargles." Luna replied. "But she is driving the creatures away naturally. Like a great protector!"

Lynne gave her a long look. "I thought I was a scarecrow."

Luna smiled serenely. "And what do those do?"

From his spot across the room, Harry just laughed. "We are going to need a bigger table now." he called to Lynne.

"Mmm, we might have to go to an unused classroom instead." she said.

Luna looked up. "Ohh, we could start a club!"

The whole day when they weren't in class, more of the first year students followed them. At the end of the day, at the Ravenclaw common room, the whole year was present. Harry was surprised she kept answering without showing a hint of annoyance. That night, once it quieted and the younger students reluctantly shuffled to bed, Harry passed by Lynne once more.

"You okay with this?" he asked, gesturing vaguely to the crowd now dispersing.

"I used to ask my master questions, he always had an answer. I see myself in them I think. They are just curious and that is acceptable."

"I mean, you have Luna calling you the scarecrow of weird creatures only she can see and leading a small army behind you."

"I don't mind." She said simply.

He smiled. "Well… if they ever try to grab your hair, let me handle it next time."

She tilted her head. "They wouldn't dare."

​

---

Filius Flitwick stood at the top of the Ravenclaw staircase, a cup of steaming tea in one hand and an open course book text in the other. He had meant to enjoy a few minutes of peace before his evening review of the third-year essays. Instead, he found himself watching a strange sight unfold in his own common room.

Every first-year had gathered around Lynne Volant. He blinked once, surprised and had to sip on his tea again to calm himself down.

The girl was seated as always, rigid posture, book in hand, face unreadable. But unlike last year, when students had given her a wide berth as if she might explode without warning, this year she had an audience.

One of the smaller boys was asking something about jelly-legs jinxes. A girl beside him clutched a notepad like she was scribbling gospel. And a blond girl was arranging pebbles around Lynne's chair in a slow, deliberate spiral.

Flitwick exhaled a soft chuckle. It wasn't exactly normal behavior for Ravenclaws, but then again, he supposed normal rarely survived Miss Volant.

He had to admit, it was better than the silence of last year. Lynne had barely spoken a dozen words outside of class. She was brilliant, certainly, even gifted some would say with no doubt. But terrifying in her precision and blunt delivery.

He knew she had no hesitation to restrain herself and that was scary for anyone who wanted to mess with her as the Ravenclaw fifth-year students learned. He had intervened that day but she hadn't told him the whole truth. She did indeed heal them as she had said but the rumor said that also she was the one who hurt them in the first place after they were being mean to her. And then there was the incident in spring with the seventh-year who had... well, suffered the consequences of his own actions.

The boy's hands had healed, and he had graduated albeit after almost getting expelled. The memory remained with most of the older years now, they would never approach her willingly at least.

But now she was speaking, if only in that cold metallic rasp of hers, and the others were listening attentively, and quite curious. Most importantly they were not looking at her afraid, which was important to note. Flitwick felt curious himself as well. Maybe she wasn't as bad as he thought. Maybe it just took the right kind of strange to bridge the gap.

He knew that most of her year Ravenclaws were also friendly with her, even though it seemed to be because of Harry Potter rather than her.

His mind had clarity for a second and with a quick motion he vanished his tea cup and with the idea in motion he approached the group.

"Miss Volant." he called down, and her head snapped toward him instantly, eyes alert. And the whole group followed as well.

"Professor, Sir." she replied at once, tone neutral.

"Do let me know if you intend to start tutoring sessions officially. I'll see about adding House points for your effort."

A flicker of a blink. "Understood, Professor."

He smiled, turned away, he thought that if he could get her mind to think in making it official it might be rewarding. Then he murmured to himself, "Well, better they follow someone who can hex a bully than someone who talks big and knows nothing." He said thinking about Lockhart, the small Professor not amused at what he heard so far, dining with him had also left him in a sour mood.

He added with quiet amusement. "I just hope she teaches them to be good students and not dueling in the hallways."

And then he vanished down the hall, the faint echoes of first-year questions trailing in his wake.
​

---

The walls of Lockhart's office were gaudy in a way Harry found hard to describe. Framed photos of the man covered every surface, each one winking or flashing a dazzling smile. Harry felt like he was being watched by a hundred glittering versions of the same shallow grin.

"You're very lucky, you know." Lockhart said, as he passed Harry a silver cloth and a tarnished trophy. "I usually reserve my time for signing autographs and solving crises, but tonight, tonight, Mr. Potter and Miss Volant, you get the privilege of spending it with me."

Harry forced a smile. "Great."

Lynne, already seated at the far end of the room, did not reply. She was calmly organizing a row of ink bottles, her prosthetic fingers moving with smooth, mechanical grace. Lockhart didn't seem to notice her silence.

"You see this one?" Lockhart held up a dented plaque. "This was awarded to me by the Mayor of Evesham for services to the Magical Pest Control Board. Nasty infestation of banshees. Took me three minutes, and a well-placed Silencio charm."

Harry nodded vaguely and began writing. He was tasked with helping him answer his fan mail. There were so many letters of people declaring their love for him, praising his books or looks, or both.

"Of course, I'm much too modest to go on about all my adventures." Lockhart continued. "But it's important for young witches and wizards to have role models. That's why I write books. That, and the fan mail."

Harry shot a glance at Lynne. She hadn't said a word since Lockhart began bragging. She wiped down bottle after bottle, methodically, expressionless. For once, Harry was almost grateful, she seemed like a buffer against Lockhart's ego. She didn't even give him a glance.

He asked how to answer them, and he even had a guide on how to actually answer most of his fan mail. It seemed a bit cruel for Harry that most of the replies people would get were just something pre-written already in a small guide book, not even by his hand.

The time passed finally. At some point Lockhart began recounting his exploits in Tibet involving a Yeti and a comb that allegedly sang lullabies. Harry tuned it out entirely, as his wrist hurt from the quill, and he was fairly certain he now hated his fans with passion.

Outside, the sky darkened and candles flickered low.

"All right, that should be enough for today." Lockhart finally said, brushing nonexistent dust from his robes. "Marvelous company, truly. And Mr. Potter, do try to stay out of trouble, people are starting to say you're a bit… violent."

Harry mumbled something in reply, already halfway out the door. Lynne followed close behind. They walked side by side through the darkened corridor, footsteps muffled against the old stone.

Then he heard a faint sound, or noise, but something that sounded like whispering and Harry stopped. He turned his head toward the wall, eyes narrowing.There it was again, a whisper, which sounded ragged. Like something being dragged across wet stone, but it came from inside the wall.

"Come... come to me... come to me…" He yelped, surprised at the ominous voice.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered.

Lynne had already stopped. Her eyes were wide, her head tilted slightly toward the wall.

"I hear noise." she said, her voice tighter than usual. "There's… footsteps behind this wall…"

Harry stared at the wall, heart hammering. The corridor stretched into shadow in both directions, and there was no sign of anyone.

"Why was it whispering?" he asked, voice low.

"Whispering?" she replied. "I didn't hear a whisper, just noise."

For a long moment, they stood there, unmoving, then Lynne blinked hard, as if coming out of a trance.

"We should return."

They walked faster after that. Neither of them said another word until they reached the staircase that led toward the tower. The silence between them was not uncomfortable. Like something had shifted.

"Should we tell someone?" Harry asked quietly, as they climbed.

Lynne hesitated. "I don't know, but we cannot explain what we heard so there is no way they will take it seriously."

Harry nodded, trusting her. Still, he thought the whole thing was quite spooky.
​

---

Mother Duck has entered the thread.

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Nobody pops into the world stamped 'evil.' That's just a story picked up along the way, and stories can always be rewritten. There are always way to come back into the light. That doesn't mean you need to try and help anyone see reason, each person should strife to be the better version of oneself. Sometimes by trying to help someone else, they might drag you down with them, it's their responsability, as it is yours to give them a second chance. Never a third.
​

---

Chapter 13 - Relay

The stone gargoyle leapt aside with a groan, revealing the spiral staircase behind it. Harry stepped onto the moving steps, hands tucked inside his sleeves. His stomach curled with nervousness. He wasn't summoned here before, and never alone with the Headmaster.

By the time he reached the top, the door opened before he could knock.

"Come in, Harry." came the soft, familiar voice.

The Headmaster's office was as strange and grand as Harry remembered. Tall shelves of books and peculiar silver instruments whirred and clicked on every surface. Fawkes the phoenix watched him from his perch, flame-gold feathers glinting in the dim light.

"Please, take a seat."

Harry did, perching stiffly on the edge of a cushioned chair. Dumbledore regarded him over his half-moon glasses, hands steepled.

"I trust your second year has begun well?" Dumbledore asked, his voice kind, but something behind his eyes unreadable.

"Yes, sir. It's been good. Better, really."

"I'm glad to hear it." the Headmaster said, then paused, as though choosing his next words carefully. "Harry, I wanted to ask about your summer. I understand your living arrangements changed unexpectedly."

Harry blinked. "Well... yes, how did you know?"

Dumbledore gave a slight nod. "I received word of the... situation at your relatives' home. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I understand that Miss Volant housed you."

Harry looked down at his shoes. "Don't worry, sir. It was a nice summer for once."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, but he said nothing. After a moment, he continued, "You stayed with Mr. Thorne all summer?"

"Yes, it was his house after all, it was nice of him to take me in." Harry said.

"I understand he is Lynne's Guardian." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "That was a nice gesture, what do you think of him?"

He hesitated. "He was... nice at first, but he became quite tired later, so for most of my first weeks there I didn't really see him. He is quite strict with Lynne, but he wasn't bad to me. Actually, he gifted me a new broom for my birthday!"

There was a long pause. The faint ticking of a brass contraption on Dumbledore's desk filled the silence while Fawkes ruffled his feathers.

"Did he ever speak to you about your... legacy? Your place in the magical world?" Dumbledore asked lightly, almost casually.

Harry frowned. "No, not really. We talked about some of the magical families once, but other than that it was just about hobbies and what I liked doing in general. I mostly spent my summer studying books and practicing spells with Lynne. And also flying of course, they have a nice place to move around."

"Indeed..." Dumbledore murmured, leaning back in his chair. "So he never mentioned anything else? Did you know we knew each other?"

"No." Harry's answer quickly. "Were you friends with him?"

"Hmm, we were more like acquaintances. We disagreed on some topics here and there which led us to drift apart."

The sound wasn't judgmental, but it made Harry shift uncomfortably. He felt like he was being examined.

"Sir... Do you not trust him?"

Dumbledore smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I am cautious, Harry. You understand that your disappearance caused a lot of people to worry, you are the wizarding world savior after all. I'm sure you know, but there are people who still resent you for the Dark Lord's fall, the events at the beginning of the year are proof enough of that."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Vernon and Petunia had been quite happy with the arrangement and that he was gone for the summer, so he really didn't think he had done something wrong, he wasn't aware people who didn't know him would really care for him.

He thought of Lynne, and how Thorne had looked at her, having never had a sense of family, he didn't think Thorne was doing a bad job. But also it felt a bit distant and not the familial love he saw in a few movies. Maybe those ones were just fantasy in the end. It had made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't explain why.

"I'm sorry for worrying other people, Professor." he said.

"Did you feel safe with Miss Volant and Mister Thorne?" Dumbledore asked.

"I never felt unsafe. And I think he cares about Lynne enough to house me as a friend of hers." Harry said quietly. "In his own way, he treated me way better than my own relatives, sir."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Harry. I was not aware your relatives were mistreating you." Dumbledore's eyes drifted toward the window. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Harry. I wanted to hear your thoughts before drawing any conclusions, but I'm glad you were safe, my boy."

There was something in his tone Harry didn't like but before he could ask more, Dumbledore stood.

"You may return to your common room now."

Harry stood too, the chair creaking softly under him. He lingered near the exit thoughtfully.

"Professor?"

"Yes?" Dumbledore asked.

"Do you think I can go back next summer?"

Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment. "I think that even when people mean well, they can make the wrong choices. Do you not want to go back to the Dursleys, Harry?"

Harry nodded but didn't say more.

"In that case, I will see what I can do about it, my boy. There is still an entire year to sort it out." He said, smiling finally. "Off you go then."

As the door closed behind Harry, Dumbledore sat back down and whispered to the empty air:

"I must begin preparing. Sooner than I'd hoped."​

---

The late morning sun spilled through the Ravenclaw Tower windows, painting the stone floors in long golden streaks. Harry was seated in the common room with Lynne, Luna and a small knot of first years, huddled together all around them.

They were casting frequent glances in Lynne's direction and oftenly an exchange of questions and answers followed. For Virgil, this looked like bees swarming a particularly cold queen, a strange one at that.

She didn't seem to be annoyed or upset about the arrangement, as she sat in her usual precise posture, scribbling on a sheet of parchment with her metal-capped fingers. The clicking soft sound against the wood could be heard among the chatter.

He paused on the final stair after coming down from his quarters and leaned against the banister watching the curious procession unfold. One of the first years, a boy with a shock of orange hair, passed her a scroll, which she corrected in a few strokes without speaking a word.

Harry Potter always sat next to her, chatting now with the second strange blond girl, who would often have an assortment of strange rocks and other objects around her. He looked happier than Virgil had ever seen him though, which was a good indication Harry enjoyed their presence.

He descended the last step and made his way over, stopping just short of their table.

"Our own Lady Volant, first of her name, queen of logic and first-year ducklings!" he announced in his driest voice, surprising even himself. Who knew he could still find his humour back. "It brings me joy to report that your ducklings here have become the best point scorers of our house."

Lynne didn't look up. "They are not ducklings."

He smiled amused. "Are you sure about that?"

Harry looked up, grinning. "It's true, they follow in formation and everything. I saw them doing a single file once."

Virgil placed a hand dramatically on his chest. "How the mighty have risen, just last year you were terrifying half the tower and growling at people who said mean things to you. Now look at you, Hogwart's most efficient babysitter for firsties."

That earned a blink from the blonde expressionless girl, which was practically a blush for her, he was sure.

"I just don't mind their presence and they seem to like someone who can answer their thousand questions and help them with school." she said coolly.

"It definitely saves the professor's time. But I imagine Flitwick will get jealous eventually that his own students are not coming to him for help." Virgil muttered.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice just enough to slip under the laughter of the younger students. "It's good, Lynne. I like this version of you, better."

She didn't reply but she did stop writing for a moment, her hand hovering above the parchment like she wasn't sure what came next. Virgil turned towards Harry now.

"You are handling all this fame thing disturbingly well, I thought you would be complaining already. Last year you said you didn't like the attention if I remember well."

Harry laughed. "They are harmless and they mean well so it's fine."

"I also heard a rumour that you two are dating, is that true?" he said nonchalantly, although he knew that was impossible. Lynne was just not capable of showing that much emotion for someone else for sure.

Harry flushed and his cheeks turned crimson. "It's nothing like that!" he said quickly.

"Mmm, if you say so." Virgil's eyes flicked to Lynne again, but she paid no mind to the comment, which brought his thoughts on her emotional change since the year started.

To be fair, it wasn't the first time he'd noticed the change. At the end of last year, she listened more, paid more attention and her edges had soft spots peeking through the armor. She was way more expressive and after what happened, she was spooked and afraid, reasonably so, her feelings plastered on her face.

But now all of that is gone. Lynne was back to being quiet, cold, clinical and efficient to a fault. She didn't smile as much anymore, didn't flinch. She moved through the castle like a clockwork statue, and most of the older students never forgot what she did, so that was still frightening for them as she passed them by.

The change had come from nowhere to him. It was as if she was back the way she started first year. Except this time, instead of putting 3 Ravenclaw older students into the hospital wing, she had a flock of first years following her around and looking at her like she was their savior.

He wondered what changed in the summer to take her back to being like this. Still, it could be worse, he thought as she saw the way she handed books to the tiny Ravenclaw girl beside her without being asked.

"You are thinking too much." Lynne said without looking at him.

Virgil flinched, surprised. "And you are watching me while pretending not to."

"I am always watching, Virgil."

"Scary thought." he muttered. But he didn't actually mind, he focused on the fact that she wasn't back to calling him by his surname, so clearly she wasn't fully back to her first year self.

He leaned on the table with both elbows, nodding towards the growing pile of scrolls beside her. "You were actually grading their homework now?"

"They asked for feedback so I said I didn't mind."

"They are abusing you at this point. No wonder they are not afraid of you. Either that or their survival instincts were not developed for them yet."

"Hey--" One firstie said in the background and he noticed that everyone was listening in.

Lynne tilted her head. "I already finished my own homework, so I really don't think it's a bad thing."

"I think it's brilliant. We are definitely winning the house cup this year with the amount of points they will get us, leaving the school winning would be my highlight of the year." Virgil said.

She looked amused for a second then her expression turned blanked again.

"It's good for them, they've got someone scary on their side, right?" He softened his voice, letting sincerity edge in. "I also think it's good for you, you don't look so cold all the time."

"I'm not- "

"You are scary sometimes, Lynne. Not a bad thing, I guess, part of you, but I did like it when you smiled more."

For the first time, her expression faltered, just a flicker of uncertainty maybe, or gratitude. He straightened up and adjusted his robes.

"Well, my work here is done, if you decide to lead your ducklings on a march through the Forbidden Forest, give me a heads-up so I can watch the professors panic."

As he turned, he saw all of the first years paled at the thought. He caught Harry's amused glance and gave him a small wink.

"Remember, Harry… You need to keep her pointed in the right direction, otherwise who knows what will happen to the firsties."

"I'll try." Harry replied, grinning.

"I want to explore the forest, Lynne will scare the creatures around her, she is the scarecrow afterall." the blonde girl beside Harry said.

He didn't know what to make of that, but the nickname was funny. Virgil left the common room with a smirk on his lips and something warmer resting in his chest. Maybe this last year wouldn't be so bad after all.
​

---

The end of September brought cooler mornings and the first golden leaves tumbling across the castle grounds. From the windows of the Astronomy Tower, Harry could spot students wearing heavier robes and scarves in house colors and, more importantly, the glint of brooms zigzagging over the Quidditch Pitch.

It reminded Harry that tryouts were coming soon. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Every empty corridor became a runway in his imagination. Every gust of wind felt like a beckoning hand. He had been longing to fly on his broom again.

Breakfast passed in a blur and he barely tasted the toast he was chewing. Even Lynne noticed, pausing with her usual cup of untouched tea to raise an eyebrow.

"You're excited I presume." she said simply.

"I am! How can you not?" he protested, he could even feel his leg bouncing under the table.

"Quidditch season starts in November. Ravenclaw tryouts are this weekend." he added, voice dropping just in case any upper-year hopefuls were nearby. "Jeremy said they're opening a spot in every role minimum."

Lynne didn't say anything, but he swore he saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

"I've never actually played before." he continued, fingers tracing the edge of his goblet. "I mean, flying lessons were fun, but this is different. And I will be competing first against Ravenclaw players for a spot."

"You'll do well. "

He blinked. "You think so?"

"Of course, we practiced after all. I'm sure you know most of the moves you need, and your broom is superior to anything most students own."

Harry tried to hide his grin behind his goblet. It didn't work.

"I'm glad you think so." he muttered, the compliment made his chest warm. She nodded once, eyes scanning the table as though calculating the probability of victory across cutlery arrangements.

"We are trying out together, right?" he asked. "I mean, you're amazing on a broom, I'm sure you are not nervous but have you seen the other beaters?"

"I've registered for Beater, yes. I have analyzed their moves and strategies from last year's games." Lynne said calmly.

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes. I know I need to excel, it's the only role where excessive force is considered acceptable, so I won't get in trouble by aggressively protecting you."

"...Right," he said, trying to smile and not imagine her accidentally launching someone into the stands.

He didn't say it out loud, but it made him feel better knowing she'd be on the pitch too, even if they were flying different roles at the same time. Somehow, just having her there made things feel easier and confident in himself.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of classes, spell practice, first year group studying and stolen minutes where Harry imagined how he would look catching the Snitch. He could already picture it, one hand outstretched, wind tearing through his robes, the crowd roaring, people cheering from the ground...

"Mr. Potter!"

He blinked out of his daydream to see Professor Flitwick staring at him expectantly.

"I asked if you could demonstrate the charm again for the class."

"Er.. yes, sir!" Harry said, standing quickly and casting Finite Incantatem without issues to the delight of the small Professor.

After class, Lynne and Hermione caught up with him near the stairwell. "You should try to calm yourself, Harry." Hermione said without preamble. "You're overexcited."

"I'm not overexcited." he insisted. "I'm just… anxious."

"You've been nervous during breakfast, charms, lunch, and the entirety of Potions. I'm glad I was able to help, you almost blew your cauldron up."

"That's not my fault! Anthony dropped powdered toadstool into the cauldron next to mine—"

"Regardless."

He frowned but couldn't hold it long. "Are you going to come watch us tryout Hermione?"

"I didn't know I could, but sure."

"We will make you the honorably Ravenclaw." he said smugly.

She didn't answer, but her silence was amusing.

Saturday came quickly, that morning, the Quidditch pitch loomed in the distance like a coliseum awaiting its gladiators. Harry jogged alongside a crowd of hopefuls toward the field, Lynne silent at his side, her pale braid tied tighter than usual, metal fingers flexing at her sides.

Captain Jeremy Stretton was already waiting with his clipboard, barking names and calling for Seeker trials first. That meant Harry and Cho Chang along the current Ravenclaw Seeker.

He glanced at Lynne once more. She gave a single nod.

"Try not to overthink it, Harry." she said. "You fly better when you are just letting yourself go."

Harry took a deep breath, heart hammering, then he kicked off and the world disappeared behind wind and speed.
​

---

The Gryffindor common room was loud. It always was. Laughter bounced off the walls, feet thudded across the wooden floors, and someone was always shouting. Be it a game, a prank, or just to be heard over the rest.

Hermione sat alone on the farthest armchair, a book open in her lap and her bag clutched tight to her side. The pages blurred in front of her, not because the text was confusing, it really wasn't, but because the noise made it hard to concentrate. It wasn't the kind of noise she liked. It wasn't curious or clever or full of wonder.

It was careless, chaotic, and frankly annoying. Across the room, a group of younger Gryffindor boys were reenacting something from Flying Lessons, swinging imaginary bats and nearly knocking over the tea table. One of them shouted something about "sending a Bludger into a Slytherin face next time."

Hermione stared down at her book, it had a range of defensive spells and theory for second years. She had already read it once, and she was now three chapters ahead already from the class so it didn't matter. She closed it anyway.

"I should've begged the hat to be placed in Ravenclaw."

The thought came more and more often these days. At first, she'd ignored it. Then she told herself Gryffindor had its merits, not only in traits like bravery, daring or chivalry but also because of the so many big names that had been part of the house.

The greatest wizard of the current era, Albus Dumbledore was a Gryffindor. But none of that felt very real in her common room. It felt like a storybook ideal that none of the students lived up to.

Except maybe Neville. He was a bit awkward that boy. She smiled faintly at the memory of him helping her gather fallen scrolls in Charms. He was sweet at least, the only Gryffindor who didn't speak over her in class.

But most days, she drifted toward the Ravenclaws. They listened and took classes seriously. There was fierce competition among themselves which drove them to better themselves. They challenged her ideas, not her voice, and she also felt that for the group she was a part of, they respected magic and learning.

When she sat in the library now, she sat near the table where Harry and Lynne often studied but more often than not, she was talking with the first year group that would go to her for help at times.

She liked listening to them, advising them and having fun with the strange but respectful students. The way they asked questions earnestly and relentlessly, eager to learn. She liked the way Lynne answered, precise, patient, and strange in a way Hermione found oddly admirable. Sometimes Lynne would not answer immediately but the next time they met she had an answer for them.

Hermione hadn't missed it. The younger Ravenclaws had started following Lynne like ducklings, clinging to her presence in the hallways and asking her everything from spell diagrams to where to sit at lunch. It was strange that they had discovered that she was quite approachable that way. But somehow they did.

Lynne never mocked people for not knowing something and she never mocked anyone for knowing too much and Hermione wanted that. Just once, a place where she didn't have to shut up and pretend not to know to be spoken to like a human being.

She stood up, clutching her book against her chest, and made her way out of the common room. The portrait swung open with a reluctant creak, and she stepped into the cool corridor. She didn't know where she was going at first. Only that she needed silence.

Her feet obviously knew the way though and fifteen minutes later, she pushed through the doors of the library, taking in the warm hush that greeted her like a long-lost friend. The librarian nodded once as she passed. The group had somehow grown warm on the cold and snappy librarian, and thanks to them continuously meeting together, she had arranged for a bigger table to be placed.

Harry looked up from his parchment as she approached and waved at her with a smile, then quickly looked down again, while Lynne didn't look up at all. But she moved one of the books aside to make space. The group of first years were busy bickering softly among themselves and Luna seemed to be in her own world staring at the ceiling.

Hermione sat beside her and she greeted her softly. " Hello, Hermione ."

"Hi, Lyn." Hermione took a new book she wanted to read on runes. It was third year material but she found it interesting at first glance.

After a few minutes, Harry leaned over slightly. "Oh you are studying runes too?"

She blinked. "You're doing Runes already?"

He nodded, cheeks slightly pink. "Lynne's teaching me early. Said it might help if we need to make warding seals."

"Oh." She paused. "We can learn together then."

Lynne finally looked up. Her eyes were unreadable as always, but her voice was calm. "Before that… your posture is poor, Hermione. You will hurt yourself if you study sitting like that ."

Hermione sat straighter before she could stop herself.

"Better." Lynne said with a small smile, and went back to writing.

A tiny smile crept onto Hermione's lips, even though she looked fairly cold, she always ended up showing that she cared here and there. These were friends and people she wanted to be with. That brought her back to her own thoughts, the hat had made a mistake with her for sure.
​

---

The Quidditch pitch roared to life. Wind whipped across the field as the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the trimmed grass. There were a few students in the stands, among them was Hermione, with a book on her hands already, but cheering him on. Harry could barely hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears.

"Potter, Chang. You're up! Time to beat is 10 minutes. We will repeat the exercise 3 times." shouted Jeremy Stretton, clipboard in hand.

"Your time, pace and how you do on each of them will determine who gets the position. I already know my seeker capabilities, but I don't know yours, so show me everything you got."

Harry tightened his grip on the handle of his broom. The nimbus hummed beneath his fingers like a living thing, sleek and fast. He glanced to the side and saw Cho Chang already in the air, stretching lightly, her expression calm but focused. He had to admit she looked well practiced, poised, her posture was flawless and he could see her determination on her face.

He accelerated and rocketed upward. For a moment, the noise below dropped away and all that remained was wind, he wanted to have a clear view of the field and obstacles. He assumed the snitch was spelled to follow around it and made a correct flight path in his mind.

The pitch fell beneath him as he rose into a high arc, circling above Cho, searching. He scanned the air for the shimmer of gold, small, fast, elusive. He knew its behavior now, as he studied the layout of the course. He didn't even realize he was smiling as he dove fast into the obstacles.

Air tore past him as the broom responded instantly, like it had read his thoughts. Cho saw the movement and veered in the same direction, gaining speed, but she was already half a beat behind.

The Snitch zigged left through a set of hoops and he followed. It looped and spiraled and so did he. It burst upward avoiding a wooden wall and he had to dodge to avoid going face first into it.

"Come on!"

He leaned forward, fingers stretching, everything else fading as snitch and student were fast pacing through. He finally was able to catch it, hitting one of the goal poles a bit in the process, but nothing that would leave more than a bruised arm. Cheers erupted from the stands as Hermione clapped for him.

"Nice, Harry! Brilliant!" she shouted.

He slowed and lifted his hand, the Snitch struggling in his fingers, wings buzzing furiously. When he looked down, Jeremy was already blowing his whistle and motioning him down.

They repeated the exercise two more times, and although Cho managed to get the snitch one of those times he was the clear winner on the last attempt, as she couldn't even find the snitch in the first place when Harry caught onto it.

As Harry descended, his heart still racing, he noticed something odd. Everyone was looking in the opposite direction and even his captain was not looking at him. Then, at the far end of the pitch, he heard it, a loud thunk, followed by a sharp, collective gasp from everyone present.

Jeremy waved again, this time more urgently. "Off your broom, Potter, tryouts are over."

He landed quickly and turned toward the source of the noise just in time to see two other Ravenclaw players flying erratically, trying to contain bludgers and motioning everyone to settle down.

On the ground lay an older student, and people were quick to surround him. And near the fallen boy, was Lynne, floating calmly just past them, bat still in hand and her expression unreadable as always. A broom laid forgotten in the grass a few paces away, and Harry concluded that a blunger had made a number on him.

"Hospital Wing!" someone shouted as they levitated the unconscious student. When he finally could see his face, he recognized Duncan Inglebee, a third-year. He had a bump on his forehead and his hand was twisted in a weird way.

Harry's eyes darted back to Lynne, who hadn't moved at all as she hovered close by. Jeremy stormed across the field, muttering curses under his breath. When he reached Lynne, he told her to come down, but he didn't yell at her, he just looked at her for a long moment before scribbling something on his clipboard.

He said something to her that he couldn't hear then walked back to Harry.

"Congratulations, Potter. You get the seeker spot."

Harry smiled at him and nodded. Jeremy didn't linger and proceeded to storm off, probably after Duncan. He was quite happy with his performance but he was still worried about Lynne. He approached her slowly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes. I am now one of the beaters for the team, but I didn't want to hurt Mister Inglebee." Her tone was flat, but he was sure he heard faint concern.

"Oh… that is what happened."

"Yes, the bludger struck him and he was knocked off his broom. We were supposed to keep them away from the target in the middle but also they hinted that we could throw them against other players as a competition."

There was no pride in her voice, and he was sure that was not how she intended the exercise to go. Harry nodded slowly, unsure of what to say, and although Lynne hadn't broken any rules, he felt bad for Duncan. Tryouts were intense and accidents could happen but it seemed to Harry that Lynne was more worried about something not going as planned than him being injured.

After a moment, she composed herself and looked at him, her gaze softened.

"Congratulations for winning the seeker position, Harry. I knew you could do it." she said.

He laughed, despite himself. "Thanks. You too. We are teammates now, let's do our best."

She gave him a nod and they stood in silence for a while, side by side, the pitch clearing around them. Students were leaving, whispering and gossiping. He briefly wondered when they were supposed to train, but with all the commotion he assumed that they forgot about it and would tell him later.

Harry looked at the Snitch still resting in his palm, then glanced at the bat in Lynne's hand. They had done it, but he felt the exhaustion on his bones now that the adrenaline was starting to fade.
​

---

Sir Nicholas, drifted proudly through the corridor nearest the Charms wing, robes billowing, neck drooping slightly to the left.

Death had its drawbacks, the temperature for one, the draftiness, the constant reminders of one's unfinished business, but it did afford one the opportunity to observe life's little dramas from a far more poetic distance.

And today, Sir Nicholas was most interested in the girl she kept seeing at night wondering about. Not in that way, of course. He was long past those sorts of attachments, and besides, the girl was still quite solid and not yet in marriage age for the current times. But she intrigued him.

She walked the halls of Hogwarts at night as if born from its stones, quiet, precise, with the eyes of someone who had seen far too much, far too early. Ghosts noticed such things. Pain was a scent they recognized, and somehow a small being like Lynne Volant wore it like perfume.

What fascinated Nick now, however, was happening during the day, what looked like a procession. Trailing behind her, always one or two steps behind, was a little flock of first-years.

Ravenclaws, mostly, and one timid Hufflepuff who seemed to have gotten lost joined them today. They didn't talk much to her, mostly among themselves. But when they did, they only ever asked questions. Miss Volant, in her strange, sharp way, always had answers.

Sir Nicholas glided lower through the corridor's arch, watching the scene unfold from above. Harry Potter was walking beside her today, as he often did, hair messy, bag bouncing on his shoulder. They were deep in conversation. Something about bludger trajectories and the ethics of broom interference. It looked adorable in his eyes.

With a delighted little twist, Sir Nicholas phased through the archway and descended just ahead of them, letting the air chill by five degrees. As expected, the first-years gasped and slowed, shuffling closer together. Harry, to his credit, only flinched. Lynne didn't even blink.

"Sir Nicholas." she greeted with a small nod.

"Ah, Miss Volant, Mr. Potter," the ghost said, bowing low, nearly losing his head entirely in the motion. "What a delightful coincidence."

"Were you waiting for us?" Harry asked, eyeing the nearly detached neck with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort.

"I never wait." said Nick, floating backward with a theatrical sweep of his arm. "I haunt. It's all in the presentation." Lynne said nothing, but she was clearly listening.

Nick leaned toward the first-years, who were now huddled behind Harry like a frightened school of fish. He gave them a ghostly smile. Several turned pale.

"I couldn't help but notice your ever-growing entourage, Miss Volant. It's rather impressive, dare I say. I haven't seen that kind of pull since the Bloody Baron tried to form a choir, although not many appreciated a group of Slytherins roaming about."

"I see. I can't sing, so we are not a choir, Nicholas." Lynne replied.

"A tragedy for the arts." Nick said, mournfully placing a hand over his chest.

Harry gave a small chuckle, clearly enjoying himself now that he realized this wasn't some sort of ghostly attack.

"I was actually looking for the two of you." Nick said, drifting upward a few inches to make himself grander. "You see, this year marks a very special occasion."

He paused and Neither Lynne nor Harry prompted him. Which was, in its own way, more satisfying than gasps.

"My 500th death-day."

Harry blinked. "Death-day?"

"Yes, yes, the anniversary of my demise," Nick said, making a slicing gesture near his neck. "Rather dramatic, rather painful, but quite memorable I should say. I'll be hosting a gathering in the lower dungeons, it's all been arranged. Cold refreshments, wailing violin, and the finest groaning table in centuries."

"You'd be my honored guests. It will be on the 31st of October. Bring a few friends if you like, I've also extended invitations to your entourage, all of these spirited Ravenclaw first-years. I do hope you'll all come."

Lynne thought about it for a moment, then looking at the entire group she answered. " Last year Halloween's feast was not that great. We'll be there ."

Harry accepted her answer with a curious glance. "Do we, um... bring gifts?"

Nick beamed. "Your presence is a gift enough to the dearly departed."

With a dramatic swirl of his cloak, he turned toward the ceiling and began ascending.

"Tell the living, Sir Nicholas remembers them!" he called, before slipping through the chandelier like fog.

Oh how he loved to make a dramatic exit.​

---

The dungeon corridor was colder after the party. Harry walked with Lynne, Hermione, Luna, and two brave first-years trailing behind them, Evan and Meena, if he remembered right. Not every first year wanted to join them in the end. The ghostly music from Sir Nicholas's death-day celebration still echoed faintly in his ears, violins groaning like wind through bones.

"That was… weird." Evan whispered. "Cool. But weird."

"Especially the transparent cheese." Meena added.

"It was just emotionally withdrawn cheese." Luna said dreamily.

Harry laughed at her comment and was about to come up with a joke of his own when he heard the ominous voice again and stopped walking.

"Did you hear that?" he said, his voice low.

The group froze, and the corridor was empty ahead, torches flickering.

"It's a noise again." Lynne said, scanning the hall.

He heard a whisper, becoming louder, just at the edge of hearing, like steam under pressure. Then it rose again, closer and clearer.

Kill…

Harry's blood turned to ice.

Kill… rip… tear…

He staggered back a step, eyes wide. "There's something in the walls, and it wants to kill something!"

"I don't hear anything in the walls." Said Hermione.

It took Lynne a second to come into action but she did eventually seem to trust him.

"Go back to the Tower ." Lynne said sharply to the first years. "Now."

Luna nodded without hesitation and ushered the rest of the group behind her, already retreating. It took some time but eventually the rest followed, once the group of younger students was safely going in the opposite direction, Harry and Hermione turned to follow Lynne's lead, her wand was out. Harry was trying to listen to the voice again but it seemed to have gone ahead of them already. Then they rounded the corner and stopped cold.

Mr. Filch was kneeling on the floor, clutching the stiff, gray-furred body of Mrs. Norris. The cat's eyes were wide and glassy, her limbs unnaturally rigid. There seemed to be a group arriving with them as well, of professors and students, probably from the Great Hall.

Above the sobbing man, scrawled across the stone wall in jagged letters, was a single message in bright red:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Harry's breath caught. Filch stood up slowly, eyes wild. "I will kill whoever did this, you cowards!" he said, not giving room to any student to speak less the anger was directed at them. Professor Dumbledore started calming the man down, and pointing out that the cat was merely petrified, and there was a cure available once Mandrakes would grow mature.

Professor Snape interrogated the trio about their whereabouts since they hadn't come from the Great Hall and they had to explain the deathday party to the man. They had the advantage that they also had more witnesses with them if they asked them, the small group of first years could easily tell them all about the party as well.

"Do you know anything about the chamber of secrets?" asked Harry once they were ordered to return to their dormitories.

"No, but I will ask my mentor about it, he might know. "

Harry couldn't sleep much that night, the voice still stuck with him.
​

---

*Parseltongue Gibberish* - Ominous voice.
"Will you stop it with the noise? We are trying to party with ghosts here, don't you know how hard that is already?" - Lynne

 

[Lucernello]

So this is the wand I envisioned for Lynne, if you were curious. Why the handle? I liked it when I was playing Hogwarts Legacy game.

Spoiler: Wand

I hope I posted this where it belongs. heh, I'm not sure where else to put it.

 

[Atavistic]

So this is the wand I envisioned for Lynne, if you were curious. Why the handle? I liked it when I was playing Hogwarts Legacy game.

Spoiler: Wand

I hope I posted this where it belongs. heh, I'm not sure where else to put it.

Click to shrink...

Could probably post in as a Media tag if you wanted.

Are you going to follow canon tracks with this year too, or are things going to get exciting with the diary?

Thanks for writing~

 

[Lucernello]

Could probably post in as a Media tag if you wanted.

Are you going to follow canon tracks with this year too, or are things going to get exciting with the diary?

Thanks for writing~

Click to shrink...

Thanks for letting me know. I will look into adding the media tag, I've commissioned art of Lynne and I'm waiting on it to be completed. That too should go to media as well

Things will get exciting, but not as much yet, we will definitely not follow canon. It will kick off at high speeds later on. I hope you enjoy it

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Even if your spell backfires, at least you lit up the room. That's more than most Muggles can say. - Finnegan probably.
You don't need to excel at first, as long as you work hard enough, you will get there. Slow and steady works just as well in the end.
​

---

Chapter 14 - Purge

"Defensive spellwork." Lockhart said dramatically, striding across the front of the classroom with his plum-colored robes billowing behind him, "It isn't just about protecting yourselves, but preserving one's life!" He twirled his wand like a baton, nearly knocking over a jar of pickled pixies on the desk.

Harry sat somewhere between amused and wary, and around him, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs tried to look attentive, but most were either doodling in their notes or watching Lockhart with exhausted faces, as if hoping he'd trip over something.

Lynne had already put her quill down, not bothering much with the lesson. She was sure that only Hermione would be dutiful during his lessons, as she was somewhat fascinated by the clown Professor.

"I'm starting a Dueling Club!" Lockhart proclaimed, snapping Harry's attention back to the front. "To give students a chance to defend themselves! If, heaven forbid, another attack occurs, you should all be prepared!"

Gasps, murmurs, and a few excited grins followed the announcement.

"Is he even qualified to teach dueling?" Lynne asked, barely above a whisper.

Padma glanced sideways. "He claims he won the International tournament among the Dark Force Defense League five times."

Lynne raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt that is true."

Padma snorted. "It is unverified, it's just in one of his books."

Harry stifled a laugh. After class, they gathered outside the corridor with the usual group. Somehow Hermione would always find them after class, no doubt she knows their schedule.

Lynne, Luna, and a few of the first-years who stuck to Lynne like ducklings were there as well. The hallway buzzed with students theorizing about what the dueling club might entail, of course the oaf had said the same thing in every class he had so far.

"I did some research." Hermione began in a hushed tone, drawing them closer. "I asked Professor Binns about the Chamber of Secrets."

That caught Harry's attention immediately. Lynne tilted her head, and even Luna stopped humming to listen.

"Well?" Harry asked.

"He said it's a myth, at least, that's what he believes." Hermione said. "But according to the legend, Salazar Slytherin built a secret chamber somewhere in the school before he left Hogwarts. It's supposed to house some kind of monster only his heir can control."

"My mentor said something similar. People believe that there is a monster on the loose then?" Lynne said. "Controlled by this…Heir of Slytherin?"

Hermione nodded. "Binns says no one's ever found the chamber, hundreds of years, and no proof it exists. But he also said Slytherin believed only pure-bloods deserved to learn magic."

"Why would it attack a cat of all things then?" Lynne murmured.

Harry felt his stomach twist. "So the heir... could they be a student?" ignoring the question.

"Possibly, they just need to be blood related to Slytherin." Hermione said, frowning. "And Slytherin lived a thousand years back, could be many different families probably."

As they walked toward the library, tension hung between them like a bad smell. Even Luna looked unusually serious, which made a few of the other firsties unnerved. Then all of a sudden a soft click and a flash surprised the group. The blinding light came up on Harry's face, and he had to blink hard, while groaning slightly.

"Colin." he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Harry!" Colin Creevey's voice squeaked as he lowered his camera. "You looked really intense just now, thought it'd be a great shot."

Harry opened his mouth to object, but Lynne was already moving. She stepped forward, eyes cold, and raised her arm in a swift, calculated motion, her fingers clenched into a fist. Her stance gave the clear picture, there wasn't going to be a warning.

"Lynne!" Hermione blurted, grabbing her wrist just in time, although this proved to be the wrong choice as even though Lynne stopped mid punch, she carried the girl forward into the ground.

Hermione let out a small yelp, surprised at the sudden jerk and cold floor. The group of firsties gasped startled and Luna had a worried look on her face. Lynne looked concerned as well, and she carefully helped Hermione up.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yes." Hermione said, her voice shaking.

"I..I'm sorry." he said. Once he saw there was no real danger though quickly his face turned into a small smirk. "Although it makes sense for your partner to defend you, eh Harry? Say, can I take a picture of you guys beside each other?"

Hermione, having recovered, stepped in between them. "You can't just take people's photos without asking." she said gently but firmly. "And also…You clearly are not aware of what happened last year, they were attacked and Lynne could have seriously hurt you."

Colin nodded, muttering apologies before retreating. Harry exhaled and Lynne's jaw was still tight, but her eyes had cooled. "Sorry, Hermione, I was startled for a second." she said simply.

Hermione gave her a look in a non judgmental way, but worried. The group continued toward the library in silence for a while. Harry was worried that the younger students of the group would look at Lynne with fear now, Colin was a first year as well after all, but if anything they looked awed at her strength.

"Well, maybe now I won't get surprise pictures anymore." Harry finally said.

"Yes I think you would look better if you weren't surprised by it." Lynne replied, making everyone's jaw drop by what she implied. "You guys should close your mouth, you will let flies in."

Lynne and jokes again? Tomorrow is going to be a very rainy day, Harry mused.
​

---

The words appeared across the page in sharp, ink-black strokes, as she opened her journal. Each night she would check for any messages her master could have left, it seemed this time she had a mission on her hands.

Your new target is a rat. The Weasley pet. Scabbers. Eliminate it discreetly, the body must not be found.

Lynne stared at the journal's glowing script. The heat from the nearby fireplace had faded and the Ravenclaw common room looked gloomy at night. Her fingers hovered over the parchment as the ink cooled into stillness.

Confirm when you can. No mistakes this time.

She didn't write back immediately. Instead, she waited as her breath barely moved in her chest. When her hand moved at last without hesitation.

Confirmed.
Instructions received.

The ink vanished almost instantly, a sign her reply was sent back. She closed the journal gently and stored it safely in her pouch. Having received her orders, she moved to planning.

She climbed the steps to her room, shared by her housemates. Once inside, casting a muffling charm on her feet, she quickly enlarged and unlocked her trunk, disappearing into it.

In the eerie and small room she had for herself inside her trunk, Lynne was thinking and noting down the best way to carry out her mission. The silence inside her beloved space gave her the clarity of mind she needed. She appreciated the silence and the extensive charm work her master had done with her trunk.

Sadly, the silence wouldn't remain tonight... the voice returned far more quickly than she anticipated.

You're good at this. Pretending it doesn't matter. Pretending it's nothing.

She leaned against the wooden wall, hand curling slightly. "It's just a rat, but it must be important for master to give us this mission. Just our next target." she whispered.

US?! Our?! It's all you…And I have heard this before, exactly what you told yourself about the last one. And the one before that. All just… targets.

Her breathing slowed, using the exercises she knew would work, reigning in any hint of anxiety or panic. The voice wasn't overwhelming yet, not like it used to be at least, she knew fear could unsettle her thoughts, and more if she lost control. But its presence alone unsettled her, so she still had to fight against it.

She reached up and tapped her temple gently, a trick she'd been taught to reassert dominance. A press against the temple, a deep breath, and everything would be fine.

Monster. You are both horrible.

"No." she said flatly.

She had a mission. Missions had rules. Targets, execution windows, risk profiles. Thorne had calculated all of it as he always did. And yet…Why hadn't he told her the reason?

She was trained to kill, yes, but also trained to understand tactical objectives. If this was just a rat, why wouldn't he explain? Unless of course, there was something he didn't want her to know.

You're a tool, you are being used to do terrible things. Tools don't ask, tools obey. It seems that's all you are.

She straightened up and quickly gathered her notes. She wasn't a tool, she was her blade. She was not mindless, her purpose came from his orders, yes, but also, it was her choice. And she chose to trust her master, he had never led her astray.

She chose to be his weapon, because she believed in him and his cause. That clarity, however fragile, was enough. The voice faded again, dissolving into background static. She moved away from her room, and out her trunk.

The Ravenclaw dormitory was getting colder these days. She could hear the faint snores of her housemate and the wind hitting the windows softly. Her thoughts went to the rat, such a fragile and unconcerned being should have their end be sudden, with as little pain as possible.

She was also ordered to leave no trace, so she had to be meticulous and do it quickly, precisely and deadly. She was having a perfect picture already, going back to her recollection of memories.

She'd have to study the Gryffindor night movements, find the perfect time and schedule. Neville's password list might still be tucked behind his book, it would occasionally drop as he studied in the library, he was careless with things like that, so entering the Gryffindor common room wouldn't be an issue. Its location was already revealed to her once by Hermione.

She could make it work and she would. Lynne made a small mental note: One week. Scabbers had one week left to live.
​

---

Luna liked the smell of spell-burnt dust. The Great Hall usually smelled like toast or gravy, or on special days, honey and cinnamon and roasted things. But tonight it was stone and chalk and the crackle of something sour. The kind of scent that wrapped around the hairs of her arms and refused to leave.

She stood with the other students, most of whom were too tall to see over. It didn't really matter though if she could just watch her new friends. She watched the lights flicker in the enchanted ceiling instead, following the way the starlight dimmed and brightened in time with the crowd's excitement.

Someone must have linked the enchantment to Lockhart's heartbeat somehow. A platform had risen in the middle of the hall, it had a polished and shiny blue carpet on top of it, it reminded her of Lynne's eyes, so very blue.

"Welcome!" Lockhart beamed, his teeth a little too bright in the torchlight. "To the very first meeting of Hogwarts' Duelling Club!"

Applause scattered like crumbs. Some of the older students laughed at his antics. As he quickly introduced the purpose of the club, he also gave way to Professor Snape, who appeared at Lockhart's side like mold on a clean tablecloth. Apparently he would act as his assistant, and maybe the reason the scents were so chaotic today.

Those two couldn't be more different from each other, and Nargles were swarming the potion Professor, so that couldn't be healthy. She was sure his bad moods came from their whispers, she would have to ask Lynne for help.

"Professor Snape will kindly help me with a small demonstration today." Lockhart announced, puffing out his chest. "Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry, you'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him. Never fear."

Snape inclined his head in something between loathing and permission. Luna looked confused for a moment. She had once read that some creatures blink slowly to trick prey into watching. Snape's expression had that feel.

They walked a few paces from each other on the platform then Lockhart tried to cast something fancy, with flair, but Snape was faster.

"Expelliarmus!" He shouted.

Luna blinked once and Lockhart was suddenly airborne, flying backward in a blur of purple silk and squealing vowels. He landed in a tangle of limbs and hair and his wand had to be recovered by a student as it fell down the platform. There were many amused laughs and a few concerned voices who asked if he was alright.

"Thank you." Lockhart wheezed from the floor, standing with wobbling dignity, picking his wand from the student. "An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy."

"Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, Professor." Replied Snape with a smirk on his face.

Luna caught Lynne's glance across the crowd. Her expression was unreadable. She stood apart, just beside Harry, who Lockhart was now staring intensely at.

"An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape. Let's have a pair of volunteers. Potter, Volant. How about you?"

"I would suggest someone from my house, Professor. Miss Volant has been seen besting a seventh year student last year, quite violently I might add. I wouldn't like for the boy to get hurt." Snape said.

"Oh poofey." Luna murmured. "Lynne won't like that." Beside her, one of the first-years giggled nervously.

While Lynne stared daggers at the man, Lockhart continued unbothered, agreeing with the potion master.

"Draco. Come up here." Snape said.

As Luna stared at the blonde boy she could see he was nervous as well, it seemed that this was not something he agreed with. Harry climbed onto the stage, while Snape gave him a look that could curdle pumpkin juice. There were cheers and hisses from all four Houses as Malfoy joined the platform, wand already drawn.

"Good luck, Potter." Lockhart said and Harry gave him a nod.

"Wands at the ready!" Lockhart clapped his hands. "On the count of three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent, only to disarm. We don't want any accidents here. One, two-"

Draco cast first without waiting for the Professor to finish.

"Everte Statum!"

Harry saw it coming and he shifted, body already expecting it and the spell flew past him. The space between them was sharp, and the platform was narrow so trying to avoid most spells looked difficult without falling.

Draco tried again with the same spell a few times, but each step Harry took, each turn and dodge looked practiced, and the small space didn't seem to face him. It seems that Harry has everything under control, she mused.

Draco tried again, and another miss made him look desperate and frustrated.

Lockhart's voice slithered in. "I said disarm only!"

Harry flicked his wand. "Expelliarmus!"

Draco's wand shot into the air and clattered across the floor while his body was sent flying backwards. To Luna's eyes, that looked exactly like the demonstration her Professors just did. A few gasps from the crowd could be heard, before laughter broke out.

Draco was lifted by Snape and he retrieved his wand and tried again anger sharpening his movements. And then, he shouted another spell again.

"Serpensortia!"

A beautiful snake exploded out of his wand with a burst of greenish light, hissing, teeth bared. A few of the students close to the platform screamed in fear of the slippery animal. Luna wondered how the snake looked so alive. Was it summoned here, or was it something alive only by magic? Her thoughts were cut short as the snake slithered low across the platform, rearing back, eyes fixed.

Fixed on going forwards to Harry and he stepped forward ready to challenge the snake. And that's when it happened, because it was clear that she wouldn't let danger get close to Harry. She was a blur of speed and determination.

Lynne had her wand already pointing at the creature and a blast of silver light followed her movements, a snap of air like bone cracking and an explosion caught everyone by surprise. The snake detonated mid-hiss, not vanishing or fading, rather it turned into a mush of red colors and viscera splattered on the platform floor.

Screams multiplied this time at the gory scene and Luna was sure someone vomited, or at least it sounded like it. Lynne stood at the base of the platform, wand still glowing. Her face looked calm and Luna was sure she felt no regrets for the animal that lay now clearly dead.

The snake's remains steamed across the stones. The reaction of the professors looked funny to her, as Lockhart paled and Snape narrowed his eyes.

"I was wondering…" Luna said, her voice curious. "if it was a conjuration animated by magic, there wouldn't be blood, so this was real." She said looking at what was left of the snake. Her first-years friends were still huddled behind her, too shocked to speak.

Harry looked stunned but not really surprised, more like he didn't know what to do now, but Draco looked horrified at Lynne who hadn't moved yet but now she slowly lowered her wand. Luna's eyes drifted back to the pool of blood. The stain doesn't combine with the blue colors at all, she thought.

As murmured voices started discussing what they just saw, Snape snapped at them to silence.

"Miss Volant. I will speak with you privately later. And 20 points from Ravenclaw, for unsafe use of a dangerous spell near other students."

Lockhart regained a bit of color on his face as he commanded the demonstration finished for the day.

Luna, for her part, simply watched Lynne as she turned and walked out of the hall slowly, her shoes tapping against the stone with a sound much heavier than they should have made.
​

---

Professor Flitwick's voice was gentle but firm as he waved his wand and repaired a shattered suit of armor against the wall.

"Remember: precision over power, and clarity over speed. Say the words clearly. A rushed spell is a broken spell."

Hermione adjusted her grip on her wand and nodded, though she was barely listening. Across the Great Hall, the makeshift dueling platform still stood, only now the atmosphere was less theatrical.

Flitwick had insisted on taking over the Dueling Club after Lockhart's demonstration left too many traumatized students. Now it felt like an actual lesson, with orderly pairings, safe spell boundaries, measured escalation. It should've been everything Hermione liked, except it wasn't.

Harry and Lynne were standing opposite each other on the platform yet again. The small Professor had gone and fetched Lynne after she killed the snake, and told her he thought she did a good thing protecting students from harm.

They had already gone through two rounds, a disarming contest and a hex deflection. They were smiling, or at least what could be considered smiling for the stoic blond girl, and Harry even laughed a few times while being forced to jump spells.

Lynne dodged a jinx that whistled past her shoulder, rolled low, and sent a low-powered stinging hex back that grazed Harry's ankle. He barely flinched before launching his counter. The duel was fast and looked graceful. A rhythm she couldn't match sadly. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek.

"Ready, Hermione?" said Padma, her sparring partner.

"Oh. Yes. Sorry." Hermione said quickly, raising her wand.

Padma and her both casted a disarming spell, and her spell really worked… but too late. The timing was sloppy and she knew it. There was no winner in this round, both girls had their wands now on the floor. Padma retrieved her wand and offered a friendly smile.

"Are you okay?" Padma asked kindly.

Hermione gave a stiff nod. "Just warming up." Just warming up. But she didn't feel warm at all.

When Flitwick called for rotating partners, Hermione stepped aside, hoping to avoid another round. She wandered toward the corner of the room where the light was thinner and the voices were duller as her eyes never left the platform.

Harry and Lynne were going again, this time with mock dueling charms meant to test timing. Fast flashes of light, parried spells, sharp footwork. Lynne pivoted like she was a dancer.

Still Harry caught her off guard once, clipped her shoulder with a tickling jinx that made her stagger, but instead of the expected frown, she offered him a small smile. They were clearly having fun, and she felt a small pang of jealousy at the scene, they were good. Really good.

Hermione wasn't used to being so outpaced. She wasn't used to feeling so… behind. She told herself it didn't matter. That they just had more practice and that eventually she would catch up.

At the same time, how was she supposed to catch up to them if they were also practicing and getting better at the same time as herself. Putting more hours into practice wouldn't be productive, and she would be left behind in more than just dueling.

She also remembered the sting of Harry's stinging hex earlier, the one that left a bruise on her thigh and Lynne's tickle jinx that made her collapse mid-cast. Although both of them had apologized, it made the thought all the more real, they had moved forward and without her.

"Feeling sore?" Flitwick asked kindly, having wandered over.

Hermione straightened. "Just observing, Professor."

He gave her a look, the sort of look he gave when someone lied politely.

"Watching is good." he said gently. "But don't forget to participate. You learn best by doing."

"I know…" she said, voice too small.

He patted her arms once and walked on. Hermione turned again and looked at her friends, Harry was panting slightly but smiling. Lynne adjusted her ponytail and offered her hand to help him up after he was unable to block a knock-back jinx.

Hermione turned away before she could see whether he took it.
​

---

The library was quiet, even for a Saturday. Harry leaned forward on the table, resting his chin in one hand while his other traced idle circles over the wooden surface. Books were scattered between them, some open, some closed, most stacked in the way only Hermione could manage.

Lynne sat opposite him, her arms crossed, her gaze watchful but unreadable. Hermione turned a page with unnecessary force.

"I think we should do it."

Harry blinked. "Do what?"

"A Polyjuice Potion." she said. "We can brew it in the second-floor girls' bathroom. No one uses it, Moaning Myrtle scares everyone away."

Harry gave her a look. "Hermione…"

"We need to know if Malfoy's behind the attacks," she said quickly. "He's been bragging about 'mudbloods getting what they deserve soon.' He knows something. If he's the heir…"

"I don't think he is." Lynne cut in, voice calm but firm. "But regardless…Polyjuice Potion is not only difficult to brew, it takes too long, and it is also an unnecessary risk."

Hermione opened her mouth but stopped. Her fingers curled slightly against the edge of the book.

"I've already researched the ingredients." she said, quieter now. "It'll take a month to brew, but I can manage it. It's in Moste Potente Potions."

"I know how to brew one, you don't need the book. You would need the ingredients." Lynne answered.

Harry looked between them. "Yes, if I remember correctly we would also need hair or nails of the people we want to impersonate."

"Of course…" Hermione said. "But I figured we could-"

"But." Lynne said, her voice not sharp, but steely. "Let me say this clearly. If this goes wrong, you won't get house points taken. You'll get expelled as it is illegal to brew."

Hermione's shoulders rose, defensive. "It's not that risky…"

"It is." Lynne said. "You're not trained for deception. If even one Slytherin sees through your disguise you will be found. Also you would need to attack the people you are going to impersonate as they cannot be seen meanwhile."

"That's why it needs to be done well!" Hermione snapped.

An awkward silence took hold of the conversation. Harry exhaled.

"Hermione, no one's saying your idea is bad. We just-"

"I know it's not bad." she muttered.

Lynne shifted, leaning forward. "We can still spy on them. But let's do it in a way that doesn't get anyone kicked out."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"The cloak." Lynne said, glancing at Harry. "We follow them. Stay quiet. Wait for the right moment."

Harry nodded. "We've done that before, but we cannot ask exactly what we need to know."

"And." Lynne continued, "if we need them to talk, really talk, I can teach you both the Confundus Charm. We can charm Malfoy and his two lackeys at the same time."

Hermione hesitated. "That's… an advanced charm."

"I can teach you."

Hermione was silent for a moment, clearly debating if her idea was worth not learning the charm, you could see her mind working at full speed.

"If it fails we can go back to plan something else." Lynne said. "But we do it smartly."

Harry felt the tension in the air settle as Hermione's face relaxed. She looked down at her notes and tapped her quill against her parchment.

"I feel a bit useless now." she murmured, "I admit it is risky, I don't want to be expelled."

"You are not useless, Hermione." Harry said softly. "I actually did not come up with any plan, so you are being more useful than me at the moment."

Hermione gave a small nod and Harry reached over and lightly nudged her book back toward her.

"But we'll figure it out together. Talking between ourselves will make the plan better."

She managed a weak smile. Lynne didn't smile, but her eyes softened slightly.
​

---

The roar of the crowd echoed across the pitch, amplified by magic and teenage adrenaline. Harry hovered midair, steady on his Nimbus 2001. His breath fogged in the crisp November wind, but his grip was dry and steady. He'd been waiting for this match for a long time.

Across from him, the Gryffindor team huddled near their goalposts. Oliver Wood was barking orders loud enough for the Hufflepuffs in the stands to hear. Fred and George cracked their necks in unison like stage performers. Cormac McLaggen, this year's surprise pick as Seeker, adjusted his goggles with a sneer aimed at Harry. From what his captain has said, Cormac was a poor seeker, and he wanted to be a chaser but the positions were already filled and wood was the better Keeper.

"Let's keep this clean!" Madam Hooch called, voice sharp as the whistle around her neck.

Harry didn't look at her. He glanced sideways instead, Lynne was already in position, beater's bat resting over her shoulder like a weapon of war. Her expression hadn't changed all morning, but he could see how focused and determined she was.

The whistle blew and the game erupted. Every player accelerated into motion. Chasers surged forward, Stretton, Burrow, and Davies carved through the sky in a tight triangle, flanked by bursts of red from Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet. Bludgers launched into the air with a metallic clang, spinning wildly and accelerating towards the field.

Harry climbed higher immediately, scanning the whole field. The Snitch wouldn't appear yet as it usually never did this early. But he had to look alert and confident. He watched his team move forward scoring the first goal. Lynne was speeding towards the other chasers and harassing them, until she could get the Quaffle from them and pass it on.

All of a sudden, a blur of black whipped past him close and he evaded… A bludger seemed to have it for him. It swung toward him like a predator, fast, intelligent and angry. Harry swerved left, and somehow it corrected its path. He dropped into a roll and it followed close.

"Blimey." he muttered, diving.

The bludger was clearly rigged to only go for him for some reason. He sped up trying to lose it. Then from below, a loud crack split the air, it was the sound of iron slamming against wood, and he saw the Bludger veered off. Harry spotted Lynne circling close to him. She didn't shout, didn't even glance his way. She had intercepted it mid-swoop, and now it was flying back toward the Gryffindor side like a curse let loose.

Another blur entered his vision but this time it was Randolph Burrow with the Quaffle, arcing over Angelina Johnson. A second Bludger came out of nowhere and Jason Samuels deflected it. Lynne was already adjusting her angle, hunting for the bludgers around her teammates.

The first Bludger returned and again, it ignored the other players, going straight at Harry and he had to ducked to avoid getting hit. It missed by inches.

It made a turn around as soon as it passed and again another crack followed. Lynne's bat intercepted, sending it spinning toward the stands before redirecting it straight into Katie Bell's shoulder with a sickening thump. She dropped just as she was about to intercept the Quaffle, then screamed and veered toward the ground. The Ravenclaw stand cheered while the rest of the audience gasped.

"Foul!" Oliver Wood shouted.

Madam Hooch waved him off. "Legal hit!"

With a small smirk, Lynne continued moving. "'Alright, focus, Harry." He muttered to himself.

Gryffindor hesitated now, their Chasers flew tighter, more cautiously. Fred and George tried to double up on Lynne, a two-on-one assault with twin Bludgers aimed at Harry. One she intercepted again with her bat, but the other that was already only following him, she just put her body in between. It hit her head with a loud wack, but she recovered fast and hit it away from Harry again.

The stands went quiet, people were already noticing something was wrong with that bludger, murmurs grew loud. Lynne kept intercepting the rogue bludger and the ones Fred and George were throwing at him.

He saw a small golden glint and quickly shifted his focus, if the game was over, the bludger would stop going for him, he was also worried about Lynne being hurt. He dove fast as he picked up speed behind the snitch. McLaggen attempted to follow him but he had to dodge a bludger coming for him after another deflection from Lynne pushed it away from Harry.

Tilting forward, Harry shot across the sky, heart pounding harder than before. The Snitch had been darting low, fast, nearly out of bounds, as he followed the instinct more than the sight, he went lower still, cutting through the cold air. He heard the crowd reacting again, voices rising, but he tuned them out.

The Snitch darted right, vanishing behind a Gryffindor goal hoop. He had to turn hard, feeling the broom strain under the pressure. McLaggen had finally recovered and was tailing him, but it was too late.

There the Snitch was back in view, wobbling in its erratic flight pattern. He pressed forward, arms locked and his broom perfectly level. He had to lunge forward to catch it, almost throwing himself off his broom. His fingers closed around the golden sphere, its wings fluttering madly between his knuckles.

The stands exploded in cheers. Above the noise, the announcer shouted. "RAVENCLAW WINS! 240 to 30!"

Harry rose into the air, Snitch in hand, chest rising with the exhilaration of victory. Distracted by the cheering sounds, and looking around his team that no doubt wanted to congratulate him, he didn't see that the bludger was still going for him even though the game was finished.

Lynne came to his rescue and grabbed the bludger mid-air with her hands, dropping the bat aside. Gasps rippled through the stands. Fred Weasley shouted something that Harry didn't catch. The ball writhed in her grip like a living thing, thrashing against her hold, and she had to use both her hands.

Lynne stared at it for a moment, then slowly closed her fingers. The sound of metal compressing was sickening, the feeling was making Harry have goosebumps. Her grip didn't shake as the bludger cracked and whined. It suddenly stopped moving when the ball was no longer looking like one.

She dropped it without ceremony. The iron deformity fell onto the pitch with a dull thud making everyone freeze. Fred and George hovered at a distance, pale-faced. Cormac McLaggen had gone completely still. Oliver Wood stared, mouth parted slightly. Even his own teammates didn't know what just happened.

Finally she closed the distance and hugged him with one arm across his shoulders. "Great job, Harry!" And just like that the rest of the team followed cheering him on mid air.

Below, chaos resumed. Madam Hooch was still trying to restore order. Gryffindor players landed hard, battered and furious. Angelina was being helped off the field with a bruised shoulder. Fred and George were arguing with Madam Hooch, pointing at the ruined bludger still lying destroyed on the grass.

She moved slowly, dropping to the pitch like she'd never left it. The crushed bludger near her boots, she didn't step on it or kick it aside. She simply stood over it, one hand picking up her bat again, watching the reaction unfold around her.

Harry landed beside her, still holding the Snitch.

"You alright?" he asked, eyes searching hers.

She looked at him briefly and nodded. It seemed the bludger had done some damage to her as her hair was stained. Was that really blood? he wondered. It also looked like she had a bump on her forehead.

"How many times did you let it hit you?"

"A couple…I caught it in the end though. It was only going for you." she said, her voice neutral.

"I saw."

"The only option was to crush it."

"Yeah."

He turned slightly and scanned the crowd. Students were already talking, whispering to each other behind cupped hands. The only ones who didn't look uneasy were the Ravenclaw stand obviously.

"They're going to talk about that for days." he said, quietly.

Lynne's mouth twitched at the corner, a smug small smile decorating her face.

"Nothing new then."
​

---

Colin Creevey tiptoed through the hallway, one hand gripping his camera and the other clenched around the strap of his satchel. His shoes made soft scuffs against the flagstone floor, barely audible over the thump of his heartbeat. He knew he shouldn't be out of bed.

But when he overheard one of the older Ravenclaws say Lynne Volant was in the Hospital Wing after the Quidditch match and that Harry Potter had gone to visit her and was staying for the night he couldn't resist.

It was the perfect opportunity. If he could get a photo of the two of them together, sitting close, maybe even smiling, he'd be the first. Everyone would want a copy. His name would be known for more than just being "the boy with the camera." He imagined the headline already: Harry Potter's Secret Visit: A Moment With the doll like Girl.

He crept past the statue of Boris the Bewildered, ducked beneath the tapestry that led toward the upper corridor, and paused by a window to steady his breath. The air was colder now, the kind of cold that made goosebumps rise up on his arms even through the sleeves of his pajamas.

Lost in his own thoughts he continued moving without much care, only looking out for a professor or other footsteps, but the only thing he heard was just the soft click of his own footsteps and the occasional rustle of his bag.

He turned the corner toward the Hospital Wing when something strange happened. A weird sound was coming from the corridor ahead. It slithered along the walls, thin as mist, yet somehow echoing through the stone, enough to make Colin freeze. He had no idea what that was, his body told him to run, but his fingers tightened on the camera instead.

"Hello?" he whispered, absurdly.

No one answered but then movement, a flicker of shadow along the far end of the corridor. A shape too large, too fast. Something scraping against the floor.

The strange sound returned, louder now, angry and eager. Colin's hands trembled, he raised the camera slowly, trying to focus on the dark ahead.

"Who's there?" he said again, weaker this time. As his gut clenched, his old Muggle instincts whispered for him to run away. But Colin pressed the shutter. For a fraction of a second, the world lit up as the sound of the flash hit the walls, corridor, and something else. Something immense and serpentine. A glint of golden eyes, like molten coins in the dark, too high off the ground, too wrong.

And then he stopped feeling his camera in his hands. Then he couldn't feel anything at all.
​

---

After Harry finally fell asleep, she silently made her way out of the hospital wing. As she was navigating the corridors and hallways, she was startled by the petrified statue of Colin Creevey. It seems another attack had struck the first year student. She sadly couldn't do much to help him, so she moved on. Hopefully he would be found soon by someone else.

Lynne stood outside the Gryffindor common room entrance, concealed in the shadows of a narrow alcove behind the tapestry of Gillyweed Grove. The corridor was empty, lit only by the flickering orange of distant sconces. In her hand, she held a folded square of parchment, the password sheet she'd taken from Neville Longbottom two days ago.

She hadn't needed to drug him or frighten him. She only needed to wait as he always seemed to drop things. The Fat Lady stirred in her portrait as Lynne approached, blinking sleepily.

"Who goes-?"

"Wattlebird." Lynne said calmly.

The painting swung inward without another word. Inside, the Gryffindor common room was quiet and the fire burned low, casting long, sleepy shadows across worn armchairs and half-finished chess boards. She moved with a silent certainty, eyes scanning the girls' staircase first, no one was up it seemed, then the boys' dorms. Her feet made no sound on the carpeted floor as she climbed. She found the second-year boys dooms easily.

She opened the door and stepped inside. They were asleep, all of them. Ron snored the loudest, sprawled across his bed in a tangle of blankets, arm dangling off the edge. His wand was on the nightstand.

The rat was curled inside his cage. Lynne closed the door behind her and advanced without hesitation. She knelt at the foot of Ron's bed, reached forward, and whispering used a stunner on the rat. It stiffened in place, tail twitching once. She slid a pouch from her cloak, opened it, and carefully deposited the rat inside.

She made no sound or breath out of place and quickly exited the room. The entire operation took less than thirty seconds. She left the Gryffindor common room behind without looking back.

Out in the corridor again, she moved quickly as she passed no one. It was too late for prefect rounds and still too early for wandering students. No portraits stirred and no suits of armor creaked.

She exited the castle through the greenhouse stairwell, using a small charm to bypass the locked gate. The night air hit her like ice, but she did not shiver. The sky above was black and full of stars, and the trees of the Forbidden Forest swayed slightly in the wind, their upper branches rustling like distant whispers.

Lynne entered the forest and did not slow her pace, the forest was closer than it seemed when one did not fear it. Thirty paces in, she stopped beneath a wide, gnarled tree, its roots twisted like sleeping serpents. Here, the ground was soft from rot and rain.

She pulled the rat from her pouch and set it gently on the ground. Scabbers didn't move, the spell still held. Lynne turned, scanned the trees, then raised her wand.

With a low breath, she summoned a large boulder from several meters away, a jagged piece of stone half-buried in the dirt. It rose from the earth slowly, grinding against earth and root.

Her arm trembled slightly as she levitated it above the rat, but it wasn't from strain or because it weighed heavily, she was hesitating as a thought haunted her mind all night. The boulder hovered in place, massive and uneven, gently turning in the air having no resistance against movement.

Then the voice returned faint, subtle, buried deep.

Monster.

She clenched her jaw. "I have to carry on my mission." she whispered aloud. "There's nothing else to consider."

Her fingers tightened and with a small motion, she dropped the stone. It fell fast, cracking the ground beneath it with a sound like thunder. The rock was too big for blood to seep on the edges, but she could hear the sound of cracking small bones.

She stared at the boulder, her breath came slow but she turned quickly and walked away, disappearing into the woods without looking back.
​

---

The forest was quiet once more. No footsteps lingered, no spell light shimmered in the trees. Where Lynne had stood moments ago, remained only disturbed earth, a shattered rock, and something that had not been there before. The rat's form had changed and the quiet spectator marvelled at the sight.

Where broken fur and bone had been crushed beneath stone, a human hand now sprawled limp from under the granite, pale and bloodless. Fingers curled inward like a withered claw. The body, too mangled to rise, had shifted, twisted and expanded into a man.

A small and deformed Peter Pettigrew. His face was slack in death, one eye missing having popped out of his skull, the other still wide in panic. His limbs were crushed and bent in multiple ways, and the gruesome sight would disturbed anyone who happened to find it, if they managed to do so before nature ran its course and leave only bones.

The magic that kept him hidden, bound to his Animagus form, had broken, and his secret would die with him. It was the end fitting for a traitor, no duel, no mighty death. Killed by someone not even acknowledging who they were.

Far above, the single crow took flight, unnoticed.
​

---

*Rat cracking noises*
"That was ASMR worthy!" - The crow maybe.

 

[Lucernello]

MP: The hardest battles are the ones no one else can see, but surviving them means you've already proven your strength. When your own mind feels like the enemy, take every breath as a victory, and every step forward as defiance. Once the storm is gone, you will be left standing, ready for the next challenge.

AN: What do you think will happen now going forward with the traitor dead? Without the rat, what are the most immediate changes we would see? I would love to hear your theories and what could happen in the future.

-Luce
​

---

Chapter 15 - Extraction

The air inside her trunk felt heavy. Lynne sat cross-legged on the floor, she could see in the dark without issues so no candles were lit. Her metal hands rested on her knees, palms open, as she tried to steady her breathing. Exhaling slowly, she found herself growing calmer.

The silence inside the trunk had always been comforting, like a bubble untouched by Hogwarts' chaos. Lately, she hadn't even spent the night in Harry's room, disturbed by the voice in her head growing stronger. Tonight, silence was no sanctuary, as the voice creeped inside her thoughts again, it carried with it feelings of guilt.

It made her relieve the memory of the crunching sound of bones breaking beneath the boulder. The rat bones and the death of the small rodent. Just the sound, and the truth of what she had done.

You shouldn't have done that.

The voice was soft, almost gentle now. It didn't scream or raise its voice, it didn't accuse her with venom. It even sounded worried now, and that made it worse. Lynne pressed her fingertips against her temples, the cold metal grounding her as she breathed through the wave of guilt that rose like bile in her throat.

"My master has to have an important reason." she whispered into the dimness, voice flat, hoping it would sound convincing.

But it was a rat, a little boy's pet, it was scared. You heard its heartbeat, didn't you?

She had, like with every target she had to eliminate. The last frantic drumbeat beneath fur, fading as the rock came down. She remembered the slight twitch of its tail, the soft huff of air, the moment before the world fell silent.

"I didn't want it to suffer."

The words pressed against her chest, heavy as iron. She rocked forward slightly, fingers digging into her hair, closing her eyes to shut out the phantom images of red fur, of Ron's bright, hopeful face. He wouldn't find the rat anymore, even if he thought it was a useless pet.

In the dark of the trunk, shadows danced across the wooden frames etched on the walls, the lines that Thorne had carved to anchor her safe space. This place, once sacred, now felt like a cage.

You need to change.

"I won't, my master needs me." she said, louder now, forcing her eyes open, forcing herself to see the room, the cold reality of her mission. "That is what matters."

I will make you change.

"No. I'm in control."

Are you?

Lynne's breath stuttered, catching on the edge of a sob she refused to let out. Her hands trembled as she lowered them, placing them flat on the floor, palms down to steady herself. The cold seeped into her skin, reminding her she was here, she was alive, she had a purpose.

"It was necessary." she repeated, softer this time, as if trying to convince herself. "I won't change a thing."

You didn't even know why. He didn't tell you why.

"Shut up."

She closed her eyes again, the image of Thorne's calm presence filled her mind. She vividly remembered the sound of his footsteps, the sound of his cane against the floor. His calm demeanor and collected mind grounding her, giving her purpose.

What if you hurt someone who didn't deserve it?

She clenched her jaw, forcing her breathing back into rhythm. She counted her breaths, her fingers drumming lightly on the floor with each exhale, again her master's voice keeping her mind focused.

I will not let you become a monster.

"No." The word was sharp, final. "You will do nothing, because you can do nothing." Slowly she opened her eyes with determination.

We shall see about that.

"We won't."

Finally she opened her eyes and stood up. She tidied her clothes and picked up her journal, she wrote down her conversation and how her fears progressed. Thorne would be able to help her at some point, she was sure about it. The voice was getting to be a bigger challenge than she anticipated, but she would overcome it.

Hair pale, eyes too bright, face too calm for someone who felt like they were screaming inside. Protect Harry, she told herself, the mantra that had carried her through blood, fear and pain. That's your main mission, with a mission you have purpose with a purpose you are in control.

The voice sighed softly in her mind, a sound like wind across glass. Lynne closed her eyes, pulling out her wand and cleaning the dust off her skirt with a quick flick of her wrist.

"I won't fail." she whispered.

Even if her hands trembled, even if the guilt burned, she would not fail her master or her mission.
​

---

Lynne stood by the corridor arch near the Great Hall, blending into the shadows as students passed, her arms folded behind her, expression calm. She had no classes today, so she used the morning to observe the hall traffic, but even she was unprepared when Ron Weasley stormed down the corridor, clutching an empty rat cage against his chest.

"Have you seen him?" Ron's voice was hoarse, too loud in the quiet hall, as he stopped a younger Hufflepuff and grabbed his shoulder. "Scabbers, my rat, have you seen him?"

The boy shook his head quickly, eyes wide, and Ron let him go, moving on, asking another pair of Ravenclaws, then a Slytherin who scowled and pushed him off. Each time, Ron's grip on the cage tightened, the thin metal door rattling with every step. Lynne could see the hope draining from his eyes each time he got another no.

He turned and spotted her, standing perfectly still, her posture giving nothing away. His steps faltered, but he approached, desperation softening his anger, his freckles standing out against pale skin.

"Lynne, have you seen Scabbers? He's… he's missing." Ron said, voice breaking on the last word. He held out the cage slightly, as if showing her the emptiness would help. She looked at him, the boy's blue eyes swimming with unshed tears.

She kept her face blank, saying nothing, her eyes holding his. She could feel the curse almost tearing her mind apart, but she quickly thought of a way to calm it down. She technically hadn't seen the rat today and he gave no timeframe. The voice in her head urged her to say something, anything, to ease the boy's fear.

Tell him you're sorry.

Lynne stayed silent. Her fingers pressed lightly against her skirt, the only sign of tension in her posture. Ron's eyes darted across her face, searching for an answer, a clue, anything.

"It's my pet rat." Ron's voice was small now, shaking.

Lynne's mouth opened, but no words came. Her silence stretched, heavy, as the boy's hope cracked. Ron's shoulders slumped, and he pulled the cage back against his chest, hugging it like a child might clutch a worn toy.

He didn't look at her again as he turned and walked away, the quiet sounds of his choked sobs trailing after him as he disappeared down the hall. Lynne closed her eyes for a moment, letting the guilt wash through her before she forced it down, locking it beneath her control.

She could still hear the metal door of the cage rattle with Ron's steps, the echo far louder than it should have been. She turned and walked away, her pace measured, ignoring the tightening in her chest and the way her mind replayed Ron's trembling voice.

She had chosen her mission, and with that choice came consequences. The voice sighed softly in her mind, disappointed but not angry, and Lynne found that harder to ignore than any shouted accusation.

She needed to find a better way to calm her mind, she had prepared for years but it seems she needed more time in the end.
​

---

Hermione tied her hair back, clutching her wand inside her robes for the fifth time. Beside her, Harry adjusted the invisibility cloak, spreading it carefully so it would cover them all. Lynne stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the courtyard below with that stillness that made it hard to guess what she was thinking.

They had been waiting all morning, tracking Crabbe and Goyle's routine the way Lynne had instructed. It wasn't complicated. The two Slytherins always carried extra snacks after breakfast, wandering off to a quiet corner near the greenhouse steps to eat in peace.

"It has to be precise." Lynne whispered, pulling out her wand. "The Confundus charm won't last that long and is better if we make them head to the common room as it is ending so that they don't seem drunk."

Hermione gave a small nod. "We have gone through the plan plenty of times already. We got it."

Harry glanced at Hermione, then at Lynne, swallowing down the nerves tightening in his chest. They slipped under the cloak, Lynne moving behind them without needing to see her feet to know where to step. She was silent, as always, her presence more felt than heard.

They found Crabbe and Goyle near the greenhouse path, sitting on the stone steps with pockets full of stolen pastries. Their laughter echoed against the wall, and they didn't notice anything amiss.

Hermione took a breath, counted silently, and met Harry's eyes.

"Now." Lynne said softly.

Hermione stepped out, casting the Confundus Charm at Crabbe while Lynne's wand flicked toward Goyle. Both boys froze mid-argument, blinking rapidly, confusion settling into their features as their fists unclenched.

"You were walking to your common room." Lynne guided, stepping in front of them.

"Oh so we were." said Crabbe and Goyle glanced at him, then nodded slowly, both turning and heading toward the Slytherin common room.

Lynne followed, Hermione and Harry slipping under the invisibility cloak as they trailed close, careful to match the slow, uncertain pace of the two boys. The dungeons were way colder than the rest of Hogwarts, the stone walls damp with winter's chill.

The air smelled of earth and something sharper, like stale water. Their footsteps echoed softly, but Lynne's were silent, her boots barely touching the ground as she moved. They reached the Slytherin entrance, a bare stretch of stone wall near a dripping pipe.

Goyle stood in front of a small snake. "Pureblood." he said.

The wall slid open without sound, revealing the way into the Slytherin common room, cold green light spilling across the floor. Crabbe and Goyle stepped inside, and Lynne followed immediately, Hermione and Harry pressed close under the cloak, careful not to touch the damp walls as they descended.

Inside, the common room was nearly empty, just a few younger students huddled near the fireplace. Malfoy sat in one of the high-backed chairs, legs crossed, gesturing as he spoke, his voice sharp and confident.

"Oh you are here earlier, I'm sure you guys managed a new record with the amount of snacks you took." Malfoy said, smirking. "No wonder you look dazed, eating too much too quickly is not good guys."

"I'm still hungry." Mumbled Goyle to the perplexed look of Draco.

"I want to sit down." said Crabbe and they huddled together at one of the common room tables.

"You know, I'm surprised The Daily Prophet hasn't reported on all these attacks. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. Father always said that Dumbledore was the worst thing that ever happened to this place." said Malfoy, clearly a gossip queen.

Hermione wanted to curse the blonde boy already. In their confused states, neither Crabbe or Goyle answered immediately, still processing what he said. Lynne seemed to have done something with Goyle and he finally grunted an answer.

"People seem to think Potter could be the heir of Slytherin. Can you believe that?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Yeah, they are delusional."

"Do you know who it is?" asked Crabbe.

"I don't, Crabbe. But my father did say this. It's been fifty years since the Chamber was opened. He wouldn't tell me who opened it, only that they were expelled. The last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died, so it's only a matter of time before one of them is killed this time. As for me... I hope it's Granger."

Hermione felt her jaw tighten, her wand hand flexing under the cloak. Harry's hand brushed against hers briefly, reminding her to stay still. She forced herself to listen, ignoring the pounding in her ears.

"Whoever it is, they've got the right idea. Hogwarts shouldn't be full of Mudbloods and blood traitors. Maybe it's a message."

Hermione knew now that Malfoy didn't know anything. He was posturing, enjoying the fear, but it was clear he had no idea who the heir was. Hermione forced herself to focus on Malfoy's words, memorizing every sentence, while Lynne stood just behind the chair, her blue eyes fixed on the boy's face, unblinking.

A clock chimed faintly somewhere above, and Lynne turned her head slightly.

"Time." she whispered, just enough for Hermione to hear.

They stepped back, Hermione careful not to let the cloak rustle, Harry holding his breath. Lynne moved without sound, her eyes scanning the exits before guiding them toward the common room door.

Crabbe and Goyle stood blinking behind, the Confundus charm lifting as they looked at each other, confused about their last minutes. Malfoy was still rumbling in gossip. They had to wait for a student to exit to slip out, the wall sealing behind them.

Lynne didn't spare them a glance as she led Harry and Hermione back through the dungeons, the path memorized, every turn planned. Hermione felt her heart settle as the dark corridors gave way to the torch-lit halls of the main castle.

Once clear, Harry lifted the cloak, letting the cold air touch their faces again.

"He doesn't know anything." Harry said, relief and frustration mixed in his voice.

Hermione nodded, pushing hair from her face.

"At least we know now."

Lynne glanced at them, her face as calm as it had been at the start, but her eyes lingered on Hermione for a moment, unreadable.

"Most of the older students don't know either, they really think they are safe in their common room." Lynne said. "Good to know."

Then she turned, walking ahead without waiting for a reply. Harry exchanged a look with Hermione before following, the echo of Malfoy's words fading behind them as the cold halls of Hogwarts swallowed them back into its quiet.
​

---

The trunk felt colder than usual when Lynne climbed inside. She sealed the lid behind her, shutting out the warmth of Ravenclaw Tower. The faint hum of magic in the walls steadied her thoughts as she moved to the small wooden desk in the corner.

She unlatched the black journal Thorne had given her. Its surface shimmered slightly as she opened it, the runes hidden under the leather glowing faintly when touched by her fingers. She flipped past the last written page, stopping when fresh lines formed, ink bubbling up as if it had always been waiting for her.

The words wrote themselves in Thorne's tidy, deliberate script.

Target: Ginny Weasley.
Extract a black diary from her possession.
Keep it secured until further notice.
Ensure she does not remember.

Lynne read the lines twice, the final word sinking in like a stone. She could feel the faint thrum under her skin, the voice that had been quiet since the infiltration surfacing again.

Another Weasley? The voice felt closer now, almost brushing against her thoughts like a careful hand. You see it too. Why is he targeting them?

"Mmm, a diary? She may be connected to the attacks." Lynne said, her tone steady, eyes fixed on the drying ink. "Is she like me? Receiving orders?"

She is a child. Like the rat was a pet.

She closed the journal slowly, pressing her palm to the cover until the runes dulled and faded. The cold wood beneath her hand grounded her, but the voice pushed back harder than before. There was no anger in it, just a soft persistence that made it impossible to ignore.

I wonder how long you can keep this up.

Lynne stood, moving to the narrow shelves above her bed. She set the journal in its hidden compartment, covering it with a folded blanket. Her hands were steady, but her chest felt too tight, like her ribs were binding in on themselves.

"As long as I need to." she said quietly, adjusting the blanket until it lay flat.

We shall see.

Lynne tapped her temple lightly with her metal fingertips a few times, the old gesture to push the voice deeper. It always quieted but didn't disappear.

She crossed the room. Her thoughts drifting to the secondary mission. The trunk's heavy wards were enough to keep any object hidden if necessary, even a person. She ran her thumb along the edge of the satchel, testing the seams, checking the small lock that only she could open.

She pulled open a drawer, removing a small, folded cloth with calming runes stitched into the hem, her master's design. She pressed it to her chest for a breath, feeling the tension ease slightly.

"I'm working to keep Harry safe. It's my mission after all." she said under her breath, her voice barely louder than the faint rustle of the trunk's wards.

Lynne tucked the cloth away, snapped the satchel shut, and sat down on the edge of her cot. She checked her blade, the black one resting in its sheath beside her. Clean, sharp, a reminder of who she was built to be.

She stared at the candle on her desk, unlit but steady. She didn't need the flame to see in the dark. She closed her eyes for a moment. The voice didn't appear again in her head.

Lynne opened her eyes, her expression calm, and reached for her wand to check the trunk's locks one last time. Everything was ready, she would find Ginny and she would do what needed to be done.

With the mission and her mind clear, she stood, movements precise as she secured the satchel and fixed the straps across her shoulder. The journal's instructions still echoed in her mind, but she forced the words to settle into something cold and manageable.

She would not fail. Not her master and not Harry.
​

---

Harry tied his gloves with quick, practiced motions, flexing his fingers before slipping them around the handle of his broom. The morning was cold, the frost still clinging to the edges of the pitch as the teams gathered, blue and yellow robes bright under the pale sky.

The Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff match was about to start. Harry's nerves thrummed under his skin, but he forced himself to breathe steadily, scanning the pitch for any changes in wind or the glint of gold that might betray the Snitch early on.

He could hear the chatter of students filtering into the stands, the crackle of Madam Hooch's whistle as she barked at players to line up.

"Remember, ignore the bludgers, Harry." Lynne said as she adjusted the strap on her beater's bat for better grip, her voice even, eyes forward. She didn't need to look at Harry to remind him she would be watching him during the game.

"Right." Harry muttered, rolling his shoulders.

Lynne's hair was tied back, pale and blonde strands catching the light as she stepped onto the field. They quickly flew into the starting position. Lynne had her bat resting against her shoulder, casual, but her eyes swept the air above them, already planning where to move first probably.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle and the Quaffle shot into the air, players surged forward, and the bludgers exploded from their restraints, rocketing across the pitch like cannonballs. Harry climbed quickly, the cold air biting against his face, eyes darting for the smallest flicker of gold while he kept to the edge of the chaos below.

A bludger shot towards him but he forced himself not to flinch, a crack immediately followed, Lynne's bat meeting iron with precise force as she redirected it back into the field, away from Harry's path.

He glanced down just long enough to see her already turning, her bat raised again as another bludger came screaming toward her. She pivoted, metal arms moving with a cold efficiency that made Harry's stomach twist for reasons he couldn't place.

Ravenclaw scored once, twice, Jeremy's cheers echoing as he swept past the goalposts, but Harry stayed high, ignoring the cold seeping into his gloves. He saw the Snitch once, a glint of gold near the Hufflepuff stands, but it vanished before he could dive.

Below, Lynne cleared a path for her team, her strikes measured, each hit knocking the bludgers away from Ravenclaw chasers while forcing Hufflepuff's players to swerve. She never shouted, never celebrated a good hit, never flinched when the bludger's rebound came close to her ribs.

Harry dropped lower, scanning, the air rushing past him. The Snitch flickered near the Ravenclaw goals and this time he dove as fast as possible. The wind roared in his ears as he pushed the broom to its limit, the cold forgotten as focus narrowed to a single point of gold darting low across the pitch.

Behind him, a bludger changed direction, aiming straight for him. A crack cut through the air and Lynne had appeared beneath him, her bat slamming the bludger sideways, sending it veering into empty space.

She didn't look at him as she adjusted, turning to catch another bludger with the flat of her bat, deflecting it away from the chasers without breaking rhythm. Ever since the first match, it seemed the bludgers on Ravenclaw's games were rigged to dart towards Harry more frequently. It didn't seem to matter as Lynne's defense was impressive. So much so that Jeremy's strategy had her watching over him specifically all game.

Harry reached, fingers closing around the Snitch just as it darted upward, its wings fluttering violently in his grip. The pitch exploded with noise as Madam Hooch's whistle blew, signaling the end.

The entire match lasted barely five minutes. Harry hovered, catching his breath, the Snitch trembling against his glove. He glanced down, spotting Lynne circling once, both bludgers safely tucked in her hands, violently trying to escape her grasp but to no avail. She safely stored them back and Madam Hooch thanked her for the trouble. She then landed towards the rest of the team with her usual quiet steps, the bat resting over her shoulder again as if it had all been routine.

"Nice job." she said when Harry landed, her voice was as even as ever.

"Thanks." Harry managed, his chest still heaving, a grin breaking over his face as the rest of the team crowded around, laughter and cheers filling the pitch.

"You were awesome, Harry! That must be a new record, fastest match I've ever seen. That cup is as good as ours!" Jeremy said.

-0-

Lynne stepped back, letting them have their moment, her eyes drifting back to the sky as the cold wind pulled at the edge of her robes. Her hand adjusted the satchel at her side, the reminder of her mission sitting quietly even as the team's joy spilled around her.

Her gaze returned to Harry, watching him laugh as Jason clapped him on the back. For a moment, her expression softened, almost unnoticeable, before her eyes sharpened again.

Lynne turned, bat in hand, and followed the team off the pitch, her steps calm, the cold wind swirling behind her as the echo of the crowd faded into the winter air.
​

---

Night draped itself over Hogwarts, cold air slipping through the cracks of the old stone as the castle settled into an uneasy quiet. Lynne moved through the dark corridors without hesitation, each step calculated, measured and soundless. She didn't need the light to guide her.

She knew Ginny Weasley's routine by now. The girl would slip out from Gryffindor Tower after dinner, although the destination was different each time, she always went past the same hallway. Lynne had seen her once near the second-floor corridor, pale, clutching her books with white-knuckled hands, her eyes unfocused as if she were trying to remember where she was.

Tonight, Lynne waited near the second-floor staircase, her presence hidden by the shadows, leaning lightly against the wall, her arms crossed. Footsteps approached, light and hesitant.

Lynne's eyes tracked the movement before the sound even registered fully. Ginny appeared, alone, a scarf wrapped too tightly around her neck, her head down, hair a flicker of red in the darkness.

The voice brushed against Lynne's mind, soft, wary.

She's just a child.

"I'm also just a child." Lynne replied under her breath, eyes narrowing, focusing her breath, her will, letting her mind settle into the cold clarity of the mission.

Ginny paused near the banister, fingers tightening on the railing. She looked over her shoulder, a nervous habit Lynne had noted, and then she continued, turning toward the abandoned corridor where Myrtle's bathroom sat.

"Ginny."

The girl froze, her head snapping up, eyes wide. Fear and confusion washed over her features, her mouth opening but no sound coming out. The shadows clung to Lynne as she stepped closer, her presence controlled, deliberate.

"You need to come with me." Lynne said calmly.

Ginny shook her head, stepping back. "W-what? Wh-ere… where am I?"

Her eyes flickered, pain crossing her face, her hand clutching at her chest as if something inside her had pulled tight. She swayed, tears springing to her eyes, a choked sob slipping from her lips.

Lynne moved, catching Ginny before she could fall, steadying her with practiced ease. Ginny tried to push away, weakly, but her limbs didn't have the strength, her fear dissolving into confusion as her eyes unfocused, her breathing shallow.

"Don't worry. You are not in trouble." Lynne said softly, the words mechanical, but her grip gentle. With a quick flick of her wand, now in her hand, she put her to sleep.

The voice pressed closer in her mind.

She's scared.

"I know, she wasn't herself, I saw no lies in her eyes."

With another quick flick of her wand, Lynne cast a silencing charm around them, the air thickening, isolating the hallway from any passing prefects or ghosts. She shifted Ginny's weight, lifting her with ease, cradling the girl against her as if she were only helping her back to her dormitory.

Ginny's eyes fluttered, her lips moving, mumbling in her sleep. "Tom… Tom told me… to…"

Lynne's jaw tightened. She adjusted her grip, holding Ginny with one arm as she commanded the butterfly in her hair to turn into her trunk. The wood rippled, expanding, and she stepped through, pulling them both into the safety of her trunk's hidden space.

The door sealed behind them, muffling the world outside. She lowered Ginny onto the cot, checking her pulse, ensuring she was breathing.

She pointed her wand at her again. "Rennervate." The girl's eyes flickered open for a moment, tears spilling, her lips trembling.

"I'm sorry." Ginny whispered, her voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to… it was Tom…"

Lynne didn't answer. She reached into the girl's robes, feeling the sharp pulse of dark magic that clung to the black diary hidden within the folds. Carefully, she pulled it free, holding it up under the quiet light of the runes in her trunk.

It was cold, heavier than it should have been, the cover plain but wrong, a whisper of something old brushing against her fingertips. It was cursed with the thickness of dark magic.

"This is not safe for you, Ginny." Lynne replied, her voice even, though her hand tightened on the diary. "I'm sorry but I will take this."

Ginny's breathing calmed, her eyes closing as exhaustion overtook fear.

"Thank you." she said in a whisper.

"You can rest here tonight, I will take you to your common room."

Lynne stepped back to let her rest, the diary in her hand, her eyes sharp as she studied it, the weight of the object anchoring her to the moment. She quickly pulled her satchel open and stored it inside.

Well, I must admit she was in trouble.

"I told you, master wouldn't target an innocent." Lynne muttered, smiling truthfully for the first time in a long while.

But Lynne felt the dark magic pulsing from it like a heartbeat, slow, patient, waiting. Ginny slept on the cot, wrapped in a soft blanket, her breathing shallow but steady. Her hair was fanned across the pillow, cheeks pale, her face the picture of exhaustion.

Lynne watched the rise and fall of her chest, confirming again that she was stable before pulling out her wand and aimed at her. The voice stirred, cautious.

I don't like this.

"I will be gentle. I want to know what it did to her." she replied, her fingers flexing slightly before she reached out.

"Legilimens."

Lynne closed her eyes, she pushed her mind forward, slipping into the thin seam of magic that tied Ginny's memories. The runes in the trunk's walls glowed brighter, anchoring her as she slipped deeper, the world around her darkening as her mind touched the chaos within.

It was like falling into cold water. Images snapped into focus: Ginny in her bed, writing in the diary, tears on her cheeks as she whispered secrets into the pages. Words that disappeared as she wrote them, a soft voice in her head telling her everything would be alright, that it would help her. That it was her friend.

Similar to a groomer, this is horrible. Poor girl.

Lynne didn't know what that word meant, but that it was a terrible experience for the first year was clear. The image shifted, now Ginny was standing in the dark corridors, her eyes unfocused, a rooster's limp body in her hands, blood dripping onto the stone floor. Her hands trembled, but her face was calm, blank, the diary's will moving her like a puppet.

Lynne realized that she was the one opening the chamber, it was in the second-floor girl's bathroom. Ginny's fear bled into the memory, her screams echoing in the corners of her mind as she tried to fight, the diary's presence smothering her protests until only the cold emptiness remained.

Lynne's vision cleared, sweat clinging to her temple, her wand still lit with the spell light. The voice inside her mind sighed, relieved.

She will be fine.

"Yes." Lynne said quietly, lifting her wand away from her, flexing her fingers to steady the slight tremor. "It can possess anyone who writes into it, it's dangerous. Master will know what to do with it."

Lynne looked at the sleeping Ginny, the soft rise and fall of her breathing a reminder of why she had done this. Her hand hovered over the girl's hair before pulling back, letting her rest.

"Maybe she doesn't want to remember."

The voice was quiet for a moment, warm in her mind.

I don't know, they are her memories.

Lynne made sure her satchel was secure, locking the runes with a small click. The pulse of dark magic dulled, contained by the layered spells her mentor had taught her to use for objects too dangerous to destroy immediately.

She closed her eyes, letting her breath steady, letting the hum of the trunk's wards. Time went by as she fed on its magic.

The trunk's rune-light cast a soft glow over Ginny as she stirred, eyes fluttering open, confusion pulling at her features before she remembered where she was. Her hands tightened in the blanket, her breath catching as fear returned, her eyes darting around the small space until they found Lynne.

"It's alright." Lynne said, her voice calm, unhurried. "You're safe now, it is still not morning so I let you sleep."

Ginny shook her head, tears spilling over her lashes. "No, I…I can't be. I can't remember things. I wake up in different places. I hear him, he tells me to do things. I can't stop it."

Lynne crouched down beside the cot, her eyes level with Ginny's, letting the silence settle until the girl's breathing evened out enough for her to listen.

"Tom?" Lynne asked.

Ginny nodded, her lip trembling. "Tom. Tom he… He's in the diary, he talks to me, he listens, but then he… he makes me forget. I think I did something bad, but I can't remember what."

Her voice cracked, and she pressed her hands to her ears, rocking slightly as sobs broke free, her shoulders shaking with the weight of the fear she had carried alone for too long.

Lynne reached out, placing a hand on Ginny's head gently, letting the girl feel the weight of the touch, solid and real. "It wasn't you. And it's over now."

Ginny's eyes squeezed shut, her tears dripping onto Lynne's metal hand. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Lynne's expression didn't change, but her hand moved to brush Ginny's hair back from her damp cheeks, tucking a strand behind her ear with careful precision. "It'll be alright."

She stood, moving to her desk to retrieve a small cup of warm tea she had prepared earlier. She pressed it into Ginny's shaking hands, steadying it until the girl took a sip, the warmth helping to calm her trembling.

Ginny stared down at the tea, her reflection rippling in the dark surface. "What will you do with him? What if he gets you as well?"

"You shouldn't think about that. I promise to never write on it." Lynne said. "You have to forget about the diary."

Ginny closed her eyes, a small breath of relief escaping her lips as her shoulders sagged. She looked so small then, the blanket too large around her, the fear in her eyes softening into exhaustion.

Lynne let her finish the tea before taking the cup, setting it aside. She sat on the edge of the cot, letting the silence hold as Ginny's eyes began to droop, sleep pulling at her now that the fear was gone.

"How will I not remember? I don't think I want to know what I did." Ginny asked, her voice small.

Lynne watched her, the answer already clear. "I can make you forget forever if you want."

Ginny's lips trembled again, but she didn't argue. "Okay..." The voice in Lynne's mind was quiet again.

I can approve of this.

Lynne lifted her wand, her expression steady. "Relax, Ginny."

Lynne brushed a final strand of hair from Ginny's face, letting her fingers rest there for a moment. She stood, lifting her wand again.

"Obliviate."

The spell moved like a soft wind, pulling the fear and the memories of this night away from Ginny's mind, she proceeded to also cast the sleeping spell, leaving behind the gentle quiet of a dreamless sleep.

Lynne watched her for a moment longer, ensuring the girl's mind was calm, clear, her breathing steady. She moved to the trunk's door, opening it quietly before lifting Ginny into her arms.

The castle was dark, the halls empty as she moved through them with silent, precise steps. She reached Gryffindor Tower, whispering the password to the Fat Lady she knew from Neville, slipping through as the portrait swung open.

The common room was warm, the embers in the fireplace casting shadows on the chairs and rugs. Lynne laid Ginny down on the couch nearest the fire, adjusting the blanket around her before stepping back. Ginny murmured in her sleep, her brow smoothing, her breathing soft.

Lynne let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, turning away, letting the flames warm her back for a moment before she stepped through the portrait hole, the quiet of the tower swallowing her footsteps.

She paused once in the hallway, glancing back.

"Thank you, master. We did good." she said, her voice low, steady.

Then she turned, her steps precise as she walked back into the cold silence of the castle, the mission complete.​

---

"If you keep talking to yourself long enough, you secure a friend for life, right? W situation." - Lynne's mind maybe.

 

[Lucernello]

AN: No motivational phrase today. I'm currently sick so all is suffering. Anyway enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think.
-Luce
​

---

Chapter 16 - Priming

Ginny pulled her cloak tighter as she stepped into the common room, the warmth of the fire chasing the cold from her arms, though it couldn't quite reach the heaviness pressed behind her ribs. She didn't remember why she felt it, not really.

It was a mixture of weird dreams and odd emotions that she couldn't explain. Dreams where she ran down dark corridors, where a voice called her name, where she pressed her hands to cold stone, weeping for reasons unknown. She woke with the taste of iron on her tongue and the ache of guilt twisting her stomach.

She had tried to hide it, tried to smile when Fred and George teased her, when Percy fussed, when Ron glanced at her with worried eyes. But it was harder when she was alone, when she saw the way the first years flinched from shadows in the hallways, the way people spoke in hushed voices about the attacks that had stopped, as if the fear had only hidden beneath the floorboards, waiting to return.

But her fears could not prepare her for the weird situation she currently found herself in. She had started her day as usual, trying to think about the coming christmas. She was sad that she wouldn't be going back home. She was not making friends in her house, she didn't know when she distanced herself from everybody else or when did that happen but she was mostly left alone.

But today when she was about to leave for the Great Hall, Lynne Volant was waiting for her outside the Gryffindor common room, her eyes calm and unreadable as always. The weird girl approached her as soon as she laid eyes on her.

" Hey, Ginny. Can you come with me for a moment? " Lynne asked.

"Uhm… why?" Ginny asked.

"Because I don't want you to be alone right now." She answered simply.

It didn't make sense to her, but she had obviously heard of the group of first years following the stoic blonde around. Maybe this is how it had begun, she mused. Feeling puzzled about it she nodded.

They walked together down the corridors, past some windows frosted with morning ice. Lynne's steps were silent, the tap of metal fingers against the clasp of her satchel was the only sound she made. Ginny tried to match her pace, afraid to fall behind.

They met Harry Potter and Hermione Granger near the Great Hall. Harry gave her a warm smile, easy and soft, the kind that made her stomach unknot for a moment. Hermione's gaze flickered to her, measuring but kind, before she tucked a book under her arm.

Lynne placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Ginny will be joining us today."

Harry only nodded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Ginny swallowed. "Thank you." she whispered, though she didn't know what she was thanking him for. Hearing all of the stories about the boy-who-lived, her fangirl self was screaming at her in excitement.

As they headed inside for breakfast, they guided her to the Ravenclaw table without even asking. They found Luna already sitting eating a muffing, her wand tucked behind her ear, hair wild as moonlight. She beamed at her when she saw Ginny.

"Oh, good." Luna said dreamily. "You're the one with the strawberry quill, aren't you? We're friends now."

Ginny blinked. "We are?"

"Yes, you are the new addition to The Lynnelets." Luna confirmed, nodding firmly as if this settled the matter.

"What?" she asked, baffled.

Harry chuckled, Hermione rolled her eyes fondly, and even Lynne's lips twitched, almost a smile.

"It's the name she made up for the first year group." Hermione answered.

They settled by the long table, as the food appeared and everyone began to eat. More first years joined their table and although some Ravenclaws were annoyed that they had to make space for all of them, they didn't complain much.

Luna rattled on about Nargles, pointing out specks of frost on the window, and Ginny found herself smiling, genuinely, as Luna placed a hand over hers in sudden, strange reassurance.

"Your freckles are very pretty." Luna said.

Ginny didn't know how to respond, so she just let the warmth settle into her bones. A seventh year by the name of Virgil Fowler at one point passed by, pausing only to glance at Lynne and the small gathering of first-years and younger students clustered around her. His mouth quirked in quiet amusement, a huff of breath escaping him as he shook his head.

"Your collection grows larger still. I need your help with something later, Lynne. Find me in the common room." he remarked before continuing down the hallway.

Ginny's cheeks flushed, but Lynne only tapped her temple with a metal finger and nodded, acknowledging the comment before returning her gaze to Ginny.

"It appears you are more than welcome to the group." Lynne said softly, so only Ginny could hear.

Ginny didn't know why tears burned in her eyes, didn't know why something heavy in her chest loosened at those words.

"Thank you." she whispered again, this time she meant it.
​

---

Draco Malfoy drummed his fingers against the table, ignoring the chatter around him. The Great Hall was alive with the morning clatter of breakfast, students leaning over plates of steaming porridge and toast, laughter ringing above the clink of spoons. He stared at the silver teapot in front of him, watching his reflection warp in its curve. He poured himself a cup of tea, watching the swirl of steam, and let the bitterness coat his tongue.

"Morning, Draco." Pansy said, sliding into the seat beside him, her eyes bright as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Crabbe and Goyle dropped onto the bench across from him, each grabbing a handful of sausages.

Draco didn't bother looking up. "Morning."

Pansy prattled about the Christmas decorations in the common room, how the green garlands looked so much better than Gryffindor's tasteless red, but Draco barely heard her. His gaze drifted across the hall, past the Hufflepuffs in their corner, past the Gryffindors, to where the Ravenclaw table had grown crowded.

It was that odd group again. Lynne Volant sat at the center of it, her white blonde hair catching the light like frost, metal hands folded neatly around a cup. Around her clustered a strange collection of first-years, Potter and Granger.

Draco's lip curled. It really bothered him that she was gaining the attention of so many people, how the professors all praised her, how although everyone feared her last year, this one because of a couple of first years, they saw her as something cute and harmless. But she was anything but that, he still couldn't go close to her without flinching after her last year encounter. He could still remember her cold eyes in that dark trunk of hers.

He didn't like how calm she always looked, how the room seemed to shift around her, how even Potter seemed different when he was around her. He didn't like that she had the Slytherins, and mostly them, on edge, that even Crabbe and Goyle lowered their voices when they spoke about her, eyes darting as if afraid she might overhear from across the hall.

There were a few older Ravenclaw students who also were afraid of her, but lately they had been quiet. He had to admit, he also wanted that for himself. To be powerful, respected, and feared. But everyone saw him as a spoiled child, nobody was taking him seriously.

Draco had written a letter today, ranting about his grievances to his father. Among them, the Quidditch situation had become tiresome. He had entered the team, and now everyone resented him for it. Higgs' lot had been spreading rumors, saying the only way he could have entered the team was by buying his way in as he did. Draco pleaded to his father to show the Higgs their place, but the rumors had already taken place in their house.

The truth was, the whispers in the common room stung more than he wanted to admit. He had expected admiration when the Nimbus 2001s arrived, had expected the team to thank him, to see him as their savior. Instead, they had taken the brooms and turned away, whispers following him down the corridors.

"Daddy's boy will make Slytherin lose the cup." Higgs had muttered under his breath during practice last week, when Draco couldn't catch the snitch all afternoon. He was still a reserve seeker so he had to see Higgs every training still.

Draco's face had burned, but he had kept his chin up, pretending he didn't hear. But then he heard it every time someone glanced at the new brooms, every time someone snickered when he missed a catch. Crabbe and Goyle tried to assure him it didn't matter, but even they couldn't hide the discomfort in their eyes when the older Slytherins turned their backs. The captain, Flint, still gave advice to him and try to play around him. But that is what any good captain should do, priority being to win above all.

Draco had written down everything in his letter, but he also felt that he shouldn't be complaining to his father so much and had toned it down. Conditioned by the same rumors. That the Ravenclaw girl had bested him at earning the respect of their teammates in Quidditch as well was a hard blow.

His eyes flickered back to the Ravenclaw table, to Volant's pale hair and cold composure, and the way the first-years and most of the second-years leaned toward her, even Potter. Lovegood, who was now braiding a string of beads into Ginny Weasley's hair while chattering about something Draco couldn't hear, was still looking at her almost in adoration at times.

Volant looked up then, her eyes flicking across the hall, meeting his for a brief moment. It was only a second, but it was enough for Draco to feel a prickle at the back of his neck, a shiver that made him look away.

He hated her, he decided. Hated the way she made him feel small, the way she seemed to know something he didn't, the way she didn't seem afraid at all, the way her movements made him so scared to even look at her eyes.

"Draco?" Pansy's voice snapped him back, her hand brushing against his arm.

"What?" he snapped.

She blinked, pulling her hand back. "Are you alright?"

He swallowed, forcing himself to take a breath. "It's nothing. Sorry."

But his stomach twisted, although the events of the chamber of secrets had distracted him a bit from these feelings, the attacks had stopped, which was what everyone was whispering about, even if they thought they were being subtle.

The last one had been weeks ago, just before the cold really set in, and now the castle had settled into an uneasy quiet, the fear shifting into restless curiosity. Some said Dumbledore had found the culprit. Some said it was a curse, one that had simply run its course.

Draco knew better though, something had happened to the Heir, even if his father didn't really mention anything. With nothing to distract him, he felt the pressure of those feelings. He would tackle them slowly, he would ignore Volant for now and focus on what he could change, the coming Quidditch match versus Gryffindor.

"I'm a Malfoy." He whispered to himself.

He would prove himself, one way or another.
​

---

Christmas morning at Hogwarts was quiet in a way Harry liked. The castle's usual draughts smelled faintly of pine, the air tingling with the cold that clung to his cheeks as he stepped out of the dormitory. Frost traced the windows, and somewhere in the distance, the suits of armor were humming a carol, off-key but determined.

He missed Hermione a bit, she had gone home for the holiday, promising to write, her bag stuffed with books. He didn't miss the corners of her mouth tight as she hugged them both before leaving. It felt wrong not having her there with them, even some of the first years would be present for the festives.

He supposed she missed her parents, something he wouldn't be able to fully understand sadly. It was still a good morning and he wanted to enjoy the time with his ever growing group of friends.

He had gone ahead to fetch snacks for the day from the Great Hall. He found the others waiting in the common room they had claimed as their own for Christmas. Ginny, Luna, and a handful of other first-years, the red-head rubbing sleep from her eyes, grumbling about Fred and George waking her up by pelting snowballs at her windows mid air from their brooms.

They had inquired if they could all gather in the Ravenclaw common room even if they were from different houses just for the holidays and it had been approved. It was mostly empty after all.

Lynne was there, seated near the window, the soft glow of the morning light catching on her pale hair, the metal of her hands reflecting the flicker of the fireplace. She was polishing one of her gauntlets absentmindedly, her satchel resting by her side.

"Merry Christmas." Harry said, stepping in.

Ginny looked up, a small, shy smile crossing her face, and Luna waved, a string of beads tangled in her fingers as she tried to finish braiding something that looked suspiciously like a necklace.

"Harry!" Luna said, "Sit, we're almost ready."

He sat and sorted the snacks in a circle for them to grab, feeling the warmth of the fire seep into him, shaking off the cold. Packages of gifts were passed around, small things, mostly. Sweets from Honeydukes, knitted gloves from Ginny's mum that she sheepishly handed over, a small collection of Chocolate Frog cards that made Ginny's eyes light up. Luna handed Ginny a small jar of glittering powder, explaining it was for 'finding moonlight in dark places.'

Then Lynne pulled out a box, wrapped in plain brown paper, tied with a simple piece of twine. She held it out to him with one of her metal hands, her eyes steady.

"This is for you." she said.

Harry blinked, taking it. The box was heavier than it looked. He pulled at the twine, unwrapping it carefully. Inside was a pair of glasses, sleek and light, with a faint glint of symbols etched along the frames. He looked up, confused.

"They will adjust to your eyesight automatically." Lynne explained. "They're resistant to cracking, charmed for weather and dust, and should help during Quidditch and dueling practice."

Harry stared at them, it was a very thoughtful gift that was still keeping the practically she seemed to always appreciate.

"Thank you." he managed, his voice rougher than he would have liked.

Lynne nodded, looking away, and pulled out a second package, smaller and handed it to Luna, who looked at it puzzled. But as soon as she took a peak at it, she hid it from everyone's eyes. Curious as to what Lynne gave her, Harry was about to ask when Lynne turned to face him.

"Hermione's gift we bought together should have arrived already. " Lynne said. "It's a good thing we split the cost, Harry. The book on magical creatures by Newt Scamander is expensive. I thought she would appreciate it, as she was looking into creatures already with this chamber nonsense. "

Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. "She'll love it."

Luna finished her necklace then, a rough string of beads and small charms, and draped it over Lynne's neck without asking.

"It's a leadership necklace." Luna declared. "Now you're officially the head of The Lynnelets."

Lynne reached up, touching the beads lightly, her fingers pausing on one shaped like a tiny silver moon. For a moment, something changed in her eyes, a softness, a brightness that Harry wasn't used to seeing there and she smiled.

It wasn't the cold, polite curve of her lips that they sometimes saw when she was being careful. It was warm, real, reaching her eyes, crinkling the corners just slightly. She looked around at them, and for a breath, Harry felt like he was seeing someone else in her place, someone who could laugh easily, who would lean forward and poke fun, who might have tugged Luna into a hug if it wouldn't have startled them all.

Meena laughed, a light, clear sound, even Ginny, who was not used to the group's antics, looked amused. Harry felt the warmth of the room settle into him, pushing away the memories of cold cupboards and empty holidays, of loneliness so thick it felt like a second skin. Lynne met his eyes, her smile still there, and he found himself smiling back, unable to help it.

"Merry Christmas, Lynne." he said.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

They spent the morning that way, trading stories, laughing softly, watching the snow fall past the windows in thick, drifting flakes. They shared Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Luna declaring each one with grand importance before popping it into her mouth, only to make a face when she hit a pepper-flavored one. For a moment, it was perfect.

The next day, she was back to her usual self. The necklace was gone, tucked under her robes, and her eyes were cold again, the warmth replaced by the still, measured calm that had become so familiar. She didn't smile, didn't laugh, didn't lean in when Luna spoke, didn't look at Harry quite the same way.

He caught her polishing her gauntlets again, her metal fingers moving with precise, mechanical care.

"Lynne?" he asked quietly.

She looked up, head tilting just slightly. "Yes?"

"Nothing." he said, shaking his head.

But he missed that smile already, he realized. At the same time, he realized that maybe Lynne was having a repeat of last year's change of behavior earlier and she would be afraid. He couldn't decide which of those odd personalities he liked best though.
​

---

The snow fell thick outside the Manor's high windows, muffling the world beneath its weight. Thorne turned a page in his ledger, the scratch of his quill the only sound in the study as the candle burned low beside him, its flame shivering each time the wind pressed against the glass.

Fourteen names, most of them unremarkable, but he now had evidence that their operation was tied to another group that was larger than themselves.

'Rowle. Mulciber. Jugson. Selwyn.'

Not the titans of the last war, but scavengers who had found places to hide, rebuilding small empires of poison, dark creature parts, and black market potions, moving crates under false names while the Ministry's eyes were fixed elsewhere.

They had been careful. Careful enough that even the Aurors who suspected them lacked the evidence or the will to act. Careful enough that the others had begun to believe they were safe.

Of course, with him knowing, now they weren't. Thorne's pen paused as he considered the warehouse outside York, the blueprints memorized, the patrol rotations mapped. He pictured the crates stacked beneath tarps, the stink of wet wood and iron, he found traps along the entrances that would trigger if the wrong wand moved the wrong air.

His daughter would have to move quickly if she is to have success in eradicating this operation. It would be a midnight insertion. She would slip out of Hogwarts the way she always did, quiet as frost against stone, moving beneath the wards as though they were mere curtains. She would cross the countryside by night, blades ready, metal limbs silent in the dark and she would have to kill all fourteen targets.

Overall, it was not a difficult mission to be honest, and his decision to let some time pass before resuming the attacks, made it so that they will be somewhat lax. He still had time before the worst of the death eater came out to play. He took out his communication journal, his quill already giving the orders.

Target: Warehouse, outskirts of York.

Objective: Eliminate all affiliates. Confirm fourteen targets, clear the area, burn all supplies.

Priority: High.
Note: I will send the location from where you will apparate to. Follow the butterflies from there.

Secondary objective: Deposit the diary at the Manor upon completion. It will be secured and handled. Do not keep it on your person any longer.

He paused, staring at the last line. He knew that the diary was too powerful to be contained, the layered wards around the satchel wouldn't keep it guarded for long. Lynne had done well to retrieve it before it drained the Weasley girl dry, but it had grown restless in its containment, it wouldn't be long before dark whispers would bleed through the layered spells.

It could not remain with her. It was too dangerous, too hungry, too loud. And she had enough to carry. Besides, he was worried that she might not be strong enough to even contain her other soul anymore either.

Thorne closed the journal, tapping it once with his wand. The ink shimmered before sinking into the page, the letters rearranging themselves in the paired copy Lynne kept hidden in her belongings. It would find her wherever she was, whether she was at Hogwarts or not.

He leaned back, listening to the silence of the Manor, the distant tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. The fire crackled, spitting sparks against the grate. A soft glow pulsed from the edge of the journal, he opened it again to see a single word forming in response in her measured, careful script:

Acknowledged.

Thorne closed his eyes briefly, letting the moment pass. Lynne would handle it. She always did after all, she would slip into the night, unseen, a blade in the dark, a phantom in the snow. The world would call it murder, would call her a monster, would call him worse for allowing it. But they did not understand what it meant to save as many lives as he could from the real monsters, what it meant to protect the wizarding world from itself.

And if blood was the price, he would pay it. Although it pained him that he wasn't fit to fight anymore, it would have brought him more pleasure, alas he let them injure him removing the possibility of him being in the front lines again.

He turned to the window, watching the white flakes drift past the dark glass, his reflection ghosted there, cold eyes in a lined face that had not aged as much as it should have.

He had done well to plan for the death eaters' scum, now he had to plan for the order as well.
​

---

The headline stretched across the front page of The Daily Prophet, bold black letters screaming against the pale morning.

"CRIMSON WING RETURNS: FOURTEEN DEAD IN GRUESOME ATTACK"

Below it, a grainy photograph showed a building half-collapsed, smoke still rising from its charred beams. Aurors in dark robes moved like shadows through the wreckage, wands out, faces tight as they levitated bodies covered in grey cloth toward a row of carts.

No names were listed yet and they probably wouldn't be ever. The article was careful to call them "individuals of interest." Or "suspected affiliates in illegal potions smuggling," and "possible ties to dark artifact trafficking," but nothing more.

The bodies had been found in the snow outside York, scattered like broken dolls, throats cut clean, wands snapped, pained and scared expressions on their faces. Witnesses reported nothing more than the place going up in flames and a few scattered screams.

All that remained was the mark of the murderer, their crimson butterflies, left on the broken step outside the smoldering door, wings glinting wetly in the frost.

"The Ministry has issued a statement condemning this act of vigilante violence and has renewed its investigation into the so-called 'Crimson Wing.'" the article continued, the words crisp and cold.
"Sources indicate that the killer may be responsible for a series of unsolved murders following the last war, and the public is urged to report any sightings or suspicious activity. A reward of 5,000 Galleons is now offered for information leading to the capture or identification of the individual responsible."

The Prophet did not mention the residue they found of dark magic clinging to the burned-out corpses, nor the Ministry's quiet relief that fourteen dangerous men would never stand trial, nor the reports from the auror's office regarding the last spells casted by the dead men.

The bounty, too, was mostly for show, Lucius Malfoy's hand in the wording clear for those who knew how to read between the lines. A neat condemnation, a promise of action, a public declaration that something was being done.

It was safer that way, to let the public believe the Crimson Wing was a lunatic, a monster, a rogue element acting without control. Better to direct fear and blame toward a name than let the truth slip into the light. Someone was cleaning up the remnants of the last war, quietly, efficiently and without a care in the world.

For Madam Bones, head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement, it was a terrible pain and tons of work, but she was secretly glad that those who she couldn't really sentence fairly were meeting justice finally.

She knew who they were obviously, and a few had been arrested several times, but no matter how damning the charges, it seemed they always had a way out. There was no way out of death now though.
​

---

Lucius Malfoy folded the Daily Prophet neatly, placing it on the polished surface of his study desk, fingers tapping once against the front page headline. He had known, of course. Before the ink had dried on the press, before the smoke had cleared from the warehouse outside York, there had been a house elf there at the time, and detecting one was quite difficult after all.

Fourteen people dead, just like that. A message if there ever was one, she was back and stronger. His lips curled, a flicker of frustration threading beneath the calm. They had grown complacent. The Death Eater stragglers, the fence-sitters, the ones who believed time and caution would keep them safe.

Even the multiple spies had quieted, thinking the so-called Crimson Wing had disappeared, that the Ministry's leash had tightened, or that the girl was not involved after all, some believed Gibbon was lying and that the assassin had met their fate somewhere. They were a bunch of fools.

He had tried to find more information about her of course, but it seemed the order had gone ahead and removed her records from the ministry regarding her family at the same time he was looking into it. He also tried to locate her and had a spy placed in different places to try and follow her. He didn't know how she knew about them as soon as she left the station in summer, but they were killed off in their mission.

His gaze drifted to the window, the snow outside falling softly across the Manor grounds, masking the cold earth beneath. It was a pleasant illusion, the world looking clean and quiet beneath the frost. But the frost would melt, and the dirt would remain.

Lucius reached for his cane, fingers tightening around the serpent handle, the weight grounding him as he stood. His eyes shifted to the letter lying unopened beside the Prophet, the familiar seal already irritating him before he even broke it.

The boy's complaints about Quidditch. About respect and petty rumors. Lucius' jaw tightened, the tick in his cheek returning as he carefully slit the seal, reading the words that spilled out in Draco's cramped, pointed hand.

'They resent me for the brooms, Father. They don't respect me. Higgs' lot are spreading rumors, we should show his family that- '

Lucius placed the letter down, pressing his thumb against the parchment to still it. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of parchment and ink, exhaling slowly through his nose.

He had no time for Draco's petty grievances, not now. The child's need for validation grated on him, but it would have to be handled later. Higgs could be dealt with if necessary at some other time.

His eyes opened, sharp and cold as they settled on the Prophet again. Fourteen dead. A butterfly left behind, silence in the alleys. Fear creeping back into the eyes of the cowards who had started to believe themselves untouchable.

Volant, the girl with iron limbs and a mind he could never quite read, was playing student at Hogwarts, while whispers of Crimson Wing spread again like fire across dry grass. Lucius pressed his fingers together, tapping them against his chin.

The attacks at Hogwarts had stopped. The Chamber had gone quiet. And somewhere in that silence, the cursed diary had disappeared. He expected more from his late master weapon, but it seemed that somehow it had gone dry or someone had taken it, hidden it away, cut off his carefully laid plans to unseat Dumbledore.

He was not a fool. The girl was involved as well for sure. His frustration burned hotter, but he kept it contained, locked behind the polished exterior he presented to the world. Anger was for lesser men, for fools who wasted energy on what could not be undone.

Instead, Lucius turned his mind to what could be done. Volant had become a hard nuisance, a nuisance that was becoming a very real threat if left unchecked. She had drawn attention last year, and he had hoped her quiet integration into the background of Hogwarts life would dull her edge, that her attachment to other students and friends, soften her.

But she was still sharp, and the wizarding world was noticing again. He would need to remove her, carefully. He knew that brute force may not be the solution, that would never work on something like her. It would need to be delicate, layered and indirect. He didn't want a repeat of the Septimus Rowle incident, that would alienate the rest of the group and reduce their contacts at the school.

Perhaps he could lay a trap that would kill off a few undesirables that were easily manipulated while also involving the aurors and unleash them upon her. He had the ministry contacts to let that happen after all.

There was another plan in motion as well, one that would point fingers at Dumbledore as well and would continue his plan to remove him from the school even if the attacks were not in place anymore.

Lucius' lips curved, cold and thin, as he turned away from the window, striding back toward his desk. His cane tapped lightly against the marble floor, a steady rhythm in the quiet of the Manor.
​

---

The world was much more vibrant than what she could observe regularly. That was the first thing she noticed as she blinked into the half-light of the dormitory, the early dusk casting long blue shadows across the stone floor. The air smelled of parchment and the faint lingering warmth of the hearth, tinged with the cold promise of snow drifting past the tall windows.

She moved her fingers and marveled again at the way they flexed, the faint whir of the magic embedded in the metal, the way they caught the glow of the lamp as she turned her wrist, admiring the shifting patterns of light.

She laughed, softly, just to hear the sound. It was odd how quiet it was without Lynne's iron will pressing down on everything, without the heavy weight of her discipline tightening every breath, every blink, every choice. The stillness inside her mind felt like a lake at dawn, rippling softly.

There were no conflicting emotions, no orders pushing her down. The excitement was now fully cruising through her body. That she could even think that it was really her body now was elevating her emotions enough.

She sat up, pressing her palm to the cool wood of the desk beside her bed, tracing the grain with careful curiosity, breathing in the scent of wax and quill ink, the sharp edge of winter that slipped through the cracked window.

She was finally alone and in control. Lynne was asleep, deep within, where even the distant echo of her thoughts could not reach. She had used too much of her in this last attack, too many targets. It had been a very grueling battle once the first few fell, and although she couldn't see the world as well as she was now, she was awake when everything transpired. And now it was her time to live outside, if only for a moment.

She stood, bare feet brushing the cold floor, enjoying the sharp bite that ran up her legs, the tingle that told her she was here, that she was real. She flexed her hands again, lifting them to the light, watching the white-and-silver glow dance across the many small joints, remembering how these hands had been made for her.

She should have felt a bit guilty but now out, she couldn't. She knew what Lynne had done last night, felt the phantom memory of snow and blood and the scent of fire clinging to the inside of her bones. The echo of screams and the last flutter of a crimson butterfly on cold stone.

But that was not her burden to carry and she wasn't the one who gave her the mission after all. She stepped to the window, resting her palm against the glass, watching as the snow fell in gentle, lazy spirals, each flake catching the lamplight like tiny stars.

Everything was much more beautiful than she anticipated. There was so much she wanted to do. To try every food Hogwarts had to offer, to taste hot chocolate so sweet it made her eyes water, to wander the hidden halls behind the tapestries, to stand on the Astronomy Tower and feel the wind in her hair.

She wanted to laugh with Luna, to pull Harry into the library just to watch him roll his eyes and blush under Hermione's fond exasperation, to walk beside Ginny without seeing fear in her eyes.

She wanted to live all of those small moments for herself, and now she was given the chance. The necklace Luna had made them still hung around her neck, hidden beneath the collar of her robes. She touched it now, rolling one of the small beads between her fingers, smiling as the warmth of it seeped into her skin.

Lynne had so many nice friends now, and she could experience them for a bit before she would return once rested. A giggle bubbled up in her throat, and she let it out, pressing her fingers to her lips as if to catch the sound before it could escape.

She stepped back from the window, arms folding around herself, rocking slightly on her heels as she let the excitement curl through her chest. Christmas was over, but she had been given a gift.

She tilted her head, letting her hair fall like a pale curtain around her face, eyes glinting with quiet glee as she looked back out over the grounds, at the glow of the lanterns lining the paths, at the soft hush of snow smoothing the world into something clean, something new.

Carefully, she started walking and getting used to her body, moving around the room she found herself in. She knew that Lynne would rarely visit her own room, it was still tidy enough to not have anything lying around that she could break in the process.

As she exited the dormitory and descended the stairs with care, her mind was awed with the colors and brightness of the Ravenclaw common room. There was so much to do, but what she wanted the most was to talk to her friends finally, after wishing for so long to be free. She was tempted to wake them up but decided that she could explore the school a bit first and wait for them to wake up on their own.

Tomorrow or the day after, Lynne would awaken, the iron weight would return, and the cold watchfulness would press down again. But today, the world was hers, and she intended to make the most of it.
​

---

"I've finally gained control, now onto important things like hugs and snacks, what is this violence nonsense?"

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Every recovery carries a quiet gift, the reminder that the body heals and the spirit endures.

AN: Still feeling sick but hopefully I will feel better soon. Enjoy the chapter.
- Luce
​

---

Chapter 17 - Actuator

It started at breakfast, Harry had expected the usual quiet presence of Lynne. Always calm, almost unblinking and focused entirely on her surroundings even when she appeared relaxed. She usually sat near the edge of their little group, quietly watching everything, ready to answer questions and help the group with their work and speaking only when necessary while everyone else ate. But this morning, she skipped into the Great hall as unbelievable as it sounded.

"Good morning!" she chirped, arms raised in greeting as she crossed toward them.

Her tone was cheerful, almost sing-song, even if it was hard to do so in the first place with her voice, and the grin on her face made Harry freeze with his toast halfway to his mouth. Ginny blinked, a mixture between confused and surprised. Even Luna stopped altogether, and she was already halfway through a conversation with a nearby painting, getting the girl to stop doing that was quite difficult.

Harry just stared unsure what was going on.

"Lynne?" he asked slowly.

She stopped in front of the tables and spun once, as if showing off her robes.

"Harry!" she said brightly, then added in a conspiratorial whisper. "You look so much better than I expected."

Blushing he exchanged a glance with Ginny, who looked equally confused and a little worried. Lynne was never so expressive and she definitely never skipped.

"Are you… feeling alright?" Harry asked.

"I'm feeling wonderful, never felt better." she declared, then she moved where Luna was and ruffled her hair. "There's so much to see and do... You are adorable, Luna. Can I hug you?"

Luna beamed and lifted both arms. "Sure!"

To Harry's horror, Lynne not only hugged the small girl, She had actually spun her around, scooping Luna up under her arms with a soft grunt and twirling her in a half-circle before gently setting her down again.

It looked quite cute although he would never admit it to anyone. Luna was breathless with laughter, while everyone else looked like they were watching a memory charm go wrong in real time.

"You can pick me up so easily." Luna said, delighted.

"Strong arms." Lynne said with a wink, flexing her metal prosthetic playfully.

Harry was so put out by her behaviour that he almost gave up on eating, and it only got weirder. She sat in the middle of their usual spot at the Ravenclaw table and insisted on sampling everything. Porridge, eggs, sausages, several pastries, two kinds of juice.

She hummed while chewing, made little notes on what tasted "funny" or "tickly" and kept offering her toast crusts to the students who were staring at her, just in case they were after her food. Harry was sure they were in fact, not after her food.

Hermione would have had a theory by now. She would have grabbed Harry's sleeve and whispered urgently about mind magic or possession or maybe Polyjuice, though she would've ruled that out fast. Polyjuice potion could only keep the disguise for an hour, and they had been with her for that time already.

No, if he had to theorized, this was the same Lynne from the end of first year. He could guess that something happened to her which made her have her episodes earlier, and no doubt she was in need of whatever Thorne did to her in the summer again. And just like last time, this didn't feel right at all. As they were making their way back, she started talking to the suits of armor that were placed on the way to the Ravenclaw common room.

She asked them questions about how they came to be, their battles and their purpose. Even complimenting a very grumpy knight's polished weapon. One of the enchanted helmets clanked and turned to look at her and she waved cheerfully. Harry leaned towards a still perplexed Ginny.

"Is it just me, or…?"

"She's completely different." Harry whispered. "It's like someone different took her body."

"I haven't been close for long but even I know this is very weird." Ginny replied.

"Yeah." Harry muttered. "I don't know what is happening to her."

She wasn't just smiling. She was expressive, wide-eyed, curious about every little thing. She asked about spellwork, even ones they had learned months ago, and made a show of practicing levitation in the middle of the hallway just to "see what it felt like today".

And when she got a feather stuck in her hair, she laughed, actually laughed, which sounded as harsh as he remembered it, from the last time on the train going back. It was light and sudden, and Harry realized with a strange pang that this had been only the second time ever to hear her laugh so freely.

And yet, he didn't feel relieved. He felt… wrong-footed. Whoever was standing in Lynne's skin, wearing her face, moving with her voice wasn't the girl he'd grown used to. It felt like this wasn't his friend, even though she had never looked as happy as now.

In a way it made him feel guilty. It was like a version of Lynne that didn't fit her face at all. One that carried herself with genuine innocence and wonder for the broad world, but it made no sense that was before him now.

She seemed younger, more her age or maybe even younger than that. When they settled near the windows after lunch, she curled up in the seat like a cat, her arms around her knees, humming a tune softly as snow drifted down beyond the glass.

Luna sat beside her, content and Ginny was still watching her like a riddle she couldn't solve. Harry missed Hermione dearly, he needed someone who could tell him this wasn't possession, brain damage or magic gone wrong. At least offer a solution or a lead to look into it.

He needed someone to help him understand, to help him solve this confusion and mostly he needed to understand if this was good or not for his friend, at first glance she looked like a very content and happy person, but deep down that wasn't his friend at all and he felt a bit guilty wanting his friend back.

These conflicting feelings were also quite new for young Harry as he never cared for someone as much as he did for Lynne.
​

---

Virgil hadn't slept very well since the Crimson Wing's newest appearance had broken the news of the Daily prophet. It wasn't just the frightening number of fourteen dead in one night, it was the reminder that someone was still hunting remnants from the last war, and specifically the ones allied to he-who-must-not-be-named.

The names weren't printed while the article danced around specifics but if Crimson Wing was involved, it was probably just like last year. He feared that he would become one of those names once he got out of Hogwarts, just a forgotten face among many, killed by someone who couldn't move on from the past.

It brought back memories he didn't want. Memories of tense conversations at home, whispered warnings from his father and although he was too small to remember fully, it terrified him. He tried to push it down, to breathe through the tightness and think about his NEWT project instead.

The translation spell was nearly there. He had been working on it for months, parsing old incantation structures with Lynne's help. The goal was simple, to be able to cast once on a physical book, and each page would shift to a preferred language until dismissed. It was delicate work, layering visual enchantments with language logic without altering the text itself, and you had to actually learn the languages in order to come up with the thoughts and intent behind the spell.

Lynne had practically solved the core issue in an afternoon, muttering quietly while flipping through reference books. He remembered watching her, absorbed and impossibly precise, her hand moving in short, sharp gestures as if conducting an invisible machine. She'd asked him loaded questions while challenging his assumptions and worked in a solution with him without second thought.

Today though, she had not come to the library at the time they had arranged. She had never before missed one of these so he exited the library to find her. When he eventually did find the girl, she was walking through the castle, smiling at the staircases and waving at the suits of armor, which didn't look at all like usual blonde girl.

He briefly wondered what was up with that, and stopped close to her, arms folded.

"Lynne?" he asked cautiously.

She spun gracefully and grinned once she took a good look at him.

"Virgil!" she said. "I was wondering when I'd see you. Did you know the glass here is warped just enough to make the snow look like stars? Who even comes up with that?"

Virgil blinked. "What? Nevermind that, you missed our arrangement, we agreed to meet in the library."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot." she said, stepping forward with a bounce in her step. She forgot? That sounds even more impossible than the enchantments on the glass, he thought.

"I've just been... exploring! There's so much in this castle I never looked at properly before. Everything looks very pretty, you as well actually."

Virgil frowned and for a moment was not really sure what to answer. "Are you alright?" he finally asked.

Her expression softened. She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him in a sudden, loose hug. He froze awkwardly, confused, and completely unprepared. She was quite small compared to him, so her head was at his chest level. Her hair smelled faintly like a clean soap and still air, like bedsheets just folded and tucked away and her cloak was wet, probably having been outside in the snow.

"I'm okay." she said. "I'll help you in a few days, when the holidays are over. Just... not today, alright?"

"Uh. Okay." he muttered, staring past her head.

She stepped back and smiled at him, not with the usual stoic self or tight politeness, but something open and oddly gentle. Then she waved and walked away, humming under her breath.

Virgil stood there for another full minute before shaking himself back into motion, something wasn't right. He couldn't make any sense of what just happened. He found Harry in the study room later that evening, hunched over an old book and half a mug of cold cocoa. The window beside him was fogged with condensation.

"She hugged me." Virgil said flatly.

Harry looked up. "She hugged you?"

Virgil nodded, clearly disturbed. "And she said she would not help me with our project for a few days."

Harry sighed, setting his quill down. "She's been like that for two days. It's... I don't know what it is. I'm researching it, but I have no clue what is going on."

"Did she hit her head?"

"Not that I know of?"

"Did she ate something? Maybe it had a potion in it."

"I have never seen her eat anything at school until she actually started behaving like that." Harry said. "She's... just like a different person, all of a sudden. And she won't say why or what happened."

Virgil sat across from him, folding his hands together.

"It really does look like she's someone else." he said. "I will help you research, I want my friend and project partner back."

Harry smiled at him and nodded.
​

---

Lynne had been like that for three days. Three full days of smiles and laughter and twirling through corridors like the castle was new to her. She asked the paintings how they were feeling, left notes for the ghosts, and tried to toast marshmallows over the Great Hall candles until a teacher scolded her.

She wasn't loud by any means, just very bright and innocent. Like someone had turned her inside out and made her warm, soft and impossible to predict. And as sudden as the change happened, it went away and now she was back with her usual cold expression.

Harry stared across the common room where she sat, posture once more straight, gaze distant but focused, arms folded neatly over her knees. She was not humming or bouncing anymore. Just there, like before, with an expression that was as unreadable as the books she would have at times.

"Lynne?" he asked.

She turned her head toward him, keeping her face void of emotion. "Yes?"

He hesitated. "You... seem better."

"I was unaware I was unwell." she said, not sarcastic, just curious. Her voice carried the old quiet weight it always had. Her eyes searched his face for a hint, but there was nothing mischievous or playful there.

Harry sat beside her, unsure where to begin.

"You've been... different the last couple of days. Really different."

She turned her face back to her book and frowned, as the reflection of the common room fireplace careressed the glass of her eyes, she checked her pocket watch which had the date of the day.

"I don't remember much then." she said softly.

Harry frowned. "You don't remember anything?"

"No. I woke up in my bed this morning, which was weird as I don't really sleep. My satchel was packed with different books than I'd chosen. I found a scarf I don't own and notes written in my handwriting about Nargles and pudding textures."

Harry gave a soft, disbelieving exhale.

"And you don't... feel like something is wrong?"

"I know something was wrong, but not right now." she said. "My hands felt tired, like I'd been using them too much. And my hair had a feather in it."

He laughed weakly. "Yeah, you got a feather from Meena stuck in it while practicing levitation on purpose." remembering the disbelief looked on the first year girl.

She turned her head sharply. "That's silly, why would I practice that."

"Exactly."

They sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling quietly nearby.

"I didn't hurt anyone, did I?" she asked at last.

"I don't think so." he said quickly. "Just surprised everyone mostly. You hugged Luna a lot, you even hugged Virgil."

Her brow furrowed. "Uh oh."

"Yeah."

"I see." She tapped her metal fingers lightly on her knee, each sound soft and distant. "I will apologize later."

"I don't think you did anything wrong." Harry said. "It wasn't bad. Just... not you at all."

She said nothing to that. "Well, let's hope it doesn't happen anymore."

"Do you even know why it happened?"

"I have an idea, my mentor will know, I will ask for his help later." she said.

Harry couldn't help but worry.
​

---

A week passed without incident. January settled over the castle with long shadows and brittle wind that scraped the stone walls. The days blurred together with classes, snowdrifts and late evenings at the study table.

Lynne remained Lynne this time around, no weirdness returned. She was still sharp, composed, rarely speaking unless asked directly. She returned to help Virgil with his project and apologized for hugging him although he waved her off, as if nothing happened. Harry assumed it was awkward for him as well.

In private he still helped Harry with research into what could have happened to her. She was now helping Luna untangle a knot in her scarf with a quiet efficiency that reminded Harry of her old self. But the version of her who hugged people and danced and smiled wide had vanished without a trace.

When Hermione returned near the end of the week, Harry met her in the library with urgency in his step. He told her everything in detail, and although she looked concerned, she didn't interrupt.

She just stared at him while he explained Lynne's sudden change, her strange behavior, the way she felt like someone else. How she had returned to normal after two days, unaware and confused.

When he finished, Hermione's brow was tight with thought.

"We need to look into magical possession." she said immediately. "And magical identity splits. There are records of people having fragments of memory sealed, or cursed artifacts that cause dual awareness."

Harry nodded. "I thought that too. But it didn't feel like something dark. Just... strange. Also you have to remember she told me she is not entirely human. So we could look into that."

"Strange doesn't mean harmless, and yes that is something we should research as well." Hermione said, reaching into her bag for a notebook. "Was there anything that might have triggered it?"

He shook his head. "Not that I know of."

They pulled books from shelves for hours, flipping through pages about curses, magical personalities, memory fractures, enchanted objects. Hermione flagged terms like "soul binding" and "possession entities" Harry just watched Lynne across the library as she returned a stack of books and sat down beside Luna again without saying a word.

At one point, Luna leaned over the table to see what they were doing.

"You should ask my dad. He knows all about things that live in heads. Like Whispermoths and Mind Taproots. It might be one of those."

Hermione blinked. "Those aren't... proven magical creatures, Luna."

Luna tilted her head. "Lynne believes them to be real actually."

Hermione didn't even offer an answer or retort and continued researching. Harry wondered quietly if there were more than one person living inside Lynne's body. And if so, why was it the complete opposite of her.
​

---

The taste of failure lingered longer than the one of blood. Draco sat on the edge of his bed, boots still muddied, hands raw from the cold wind, still trembling faintly with exhaustion.

He hadn't changed out of his Quidditch gear yet. The green and silver cloak had half-frozen stiff with melted snow and sweat, and it was beginning to be uncomfortable. His gloves and arms protection were on the floor, damp and crumpled.

It had been utterly awful. The match against Ravenclaw had started badly and spiraled fast. They played like wolves, all speed and spite now. Slytherin's beaters struck back, escalating the game into something closer to war than sport.

Four students had ended up in the Hospital Wing before the Snitch had even been sighted. And even among all that chaos, all that rage in the air, Potter had still caught it before him. It didn't matter that it had been a very close match, if in the end they lost to the ones with the most points. The cup was now almost lost even if they still had a match left to play.

Draco swallowed down the knot in his throat and leaned forward, elbows on knees, trying not to glare at the far wall like it owed him something. There had been bludgers flying at his face, mud in his eyes, and still no excuse felt good enough. No explanation could take back the way the common room had fallen quiet when they came back without the win.

No cheers, just tired faces and angry whispers. Flint muttered to someone that everyone had done their part except him. That had stung and although a few tears threatened to escape his eyes, he reined them in.

His entire body ached, his left arm had gone nearly numb from blocking a rogue bludger near the end, and his shoulder still throbbed from a dive gone wrong. He was tempted to ask Madam Pomfrey for a potion, but he didn't want to show his face in the Hospital Wing to his injured teammates, not after that performance.

The echo of the match still clung to him, the roar of wind, the sting of air against his skin and the humiliating silence of his teammates being dwarfed by the cheering from the Ravens. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.

He really hated losing. He hated Potter's stupid face when the crowd roared for him. Hated the emotionless face of Volant after she sent two players out of the game, injured. Hated how quiet the Slytherins were now, all those eyes that used to nod when he passed by avoiding him like he carried dragon pox.

Draco stood up and tore off his robes, throwing them toward the trunk at the end of his bed. They missed and landed in a heap beside it. It wasn't fair, he thought lamely. He had trained and practiced until exhaustion. Not only had he been present during his team practices, he had actually taken his free time to the skies. He had even asked her mother for tips on professional matches from her time.

He should have had this victory. Instead, he had limped back into the common room, wet and bruised, while Potter soared past the stands with the Snitch clutched in his hand, surely then to party in his common room. The worst part was he couldn't even blame someone else, not really. His mind had gone blank during the final chase, his hands had slipped when it counted. He had seen the Snitch, gone for it and lost.

He dropped onto the mattress and stared up at the canopy of his bed, breathing shallow and quiet. His body ached but the pain felt numb. He closed his eyes, he didn't cry or scream. He didn't rage even, that would have been childish. He just lay there, still wrapped in the weight of his robes and sweat and shame, letting the cold soak in through the window cracks and settle deep into his bones.

He didn't need comfort, or pity. He just wanted to disappear, at least until everyone forgot. Or until he found a way to make them remember him for something he could be proud of.
​

---

She had known for some time now that something must have gone wrong. Lynne was certain that she wouldn't lose control again anytime soon, but at the same time, it was scary to think that she couldn't push it, she couldn't give it her all without potentially letting the other soul control her.

She had reviewed the evidence clinically at first, ticking boxes in her mind as if preparing a report. But facts were no comfort, they did not explain why the other soul inside her could take control if she just exhausting her magic.

She sat beneath the cold arch of the Ravenclaw tower, snow pressing against the glass like quiet hands. The world beyond was white, weightless, and far away. She pressed her fingertips together, metal against metal, and stared at the window until her reflection blurred into the frost. She would have to come up with contingency measures to ensure that even if she lost herself again, she wouldn't be a problem for her friends.

The only comfort was that whoever the other soul was, she wasn't malicious, that much Lynne was almost sure of. She had seen the aftermath in the laughter of the others, in the stories they whispered when they thought she was not listening. Luna's smile had been bright and she could still not get her to stop hugging her. Virgil had looked baffled, but unharmed.

So it was not an enemy, but it was still a threat to her mission, a malfunction of sorts. She tapped the side of her head with her finger once, then again, then slower a third time. Her grounding gesture in order to quiet her mind. Speaking of, the voice inside had been quiet since she resumed control, but she could still sense it there, resting, like a curled-up creature beneath the surface.

She had tried to speak to her like previous times, but there had been no answer. She wished her mentor could help her but she had written to him that morning, asking for instruction and he had not yet returned word. She knew he was busy so she wouldn't press and this wasn't exactly an emergency.

But the silence itched at her nerves. She needed recalibration, the rituals and mind conditioning in order to continue at the highest efficiency possible. But she also could not leave Hogwarts yet, Harry needed protection, many times they had been given that lesson, even among the walls of the school, it wasn't safe.

There were still threats, both seen and unseen and she couldn't just vanish and leave her mission behind. Lately it was not only her mission that was important, she had grown fond of him, against better judgment. It was a strange thing, having a friend who she cared about.

She had catalogued the symptoms long ago but never expected to encounter them firsthand. And yet, when he smiled, she felt something lighten in her chest. When he frowned, something tightened. He was not Thorne obviously, but Harry was becoming close second. Followed by Luna as well, the girl was just too cute and warm, she needed to be protected as well, mission or not.

Her thoughts went back to the other soul residing in her. She wondered if she could somehow get rid of her, or even if she should. She sounded almost harmless most of the time, and instead of going against her mission, she actually stuck with her friends most of the time.

She felt uncomfortable with the situation though, like she was just a vessel. A shell made to carry what others could not. And although she knew that it was per design, and that she was a construct meant to house a soul, they had made the mistake of putting together more than what they should. She had accepted it through the years, but it had never taken control before.

Still, uncomfortable or not, Lynne didn't think the other person was an intruder or a parasite. She felt the girl was even more suited for her body, a curious, warm and naive mind fitted more with her own body. She was not like Lynne at all, but she clearly wanted to live as well, and feel the joy and wonders of being alive.

She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. She would not tell anyone about it for now, she had to make her own research regarding multiple souls and then from there see what solutions could be found. Maybe she could find a way to get her out of her constructed body and into another one and both could live without issues. She would have to talk with her mentor over the summer, make sure he is aware that the other soul is not a threat and that maybe he could give her a body.

Lynne opened her eyes again and stared out at the snow-covered grounds. Below, students moved like ants in dark coats, tiny sparks of color against the white. She resolved that she would worry about it later, and with the help of her mentor maybe she could find a better solution.
​

---

The Hospital Wing always felt colder than the rest of the castle. Harry stepped through the tall doors, his footsteps muted by the polished floor. Rows of beds stretched in neat lines, white sheets tucked with sharp precision. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, pale and weak against the winter sky.

The room smelled of soap, clean linen, and the faint tang of potion ingredients. Most beds were empty now, students from the last Quidditch match already healed. Only two remained occupied and he was visiting one of them today.

Colin Creevey lay motionless on the second bed from the end, eyes open yet blind, a stiff smile frozen on his face. A stiff white lily rested on the bedside table, almost lost among Madam Pomfrey's vials and folded cloths. Harry felt the familiar sting of guilt as he approached, the same ache that had followed him since the night Colin was found. Apparently the only reason why he was out that night was to get a picture of him.

His camera rested on the nightstand, its strap neatly coiled, lens cap still off. They had taken it from his hands, to try and get the picture of the attacker but it had been broken in the attack as well.

For a while, after the attack, there had been whispers, glances, questions. The professors had tried to maintain calm. The other students had mourned. But as days stretched into weeks, the fear dulled into a kind of background noise.

He pulled a small parchment from his pocket, smoothing it flat. The note was simple, just a get better soon wish that Hermione told would probably mean a lot to him when they get him un-petrified.

He set the parchment beside the lily. Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind a curtained bed, carrying a tray of fresh bandages. She caught his eye and offered a gentle nod.

"He will be fine once the Mandrakes are ready," she said quietly, setting the tray down. "Professor Sprout says they will reach maturity next month. The potion will be brewed the same day."

Harry exhaled, relief and worry tingling inside him. "Does anyone visit him?"

"The Creeveys are muggles so the headmaster has deemed it safer for them not to come." Her voice softened. "Not many students come by, though. I'm assuming because he is a first year student, he didn't have much time to make friends yet."

Harry glanced down the silent aisles, only a few empty bedsheets and freshly folded blankets. The whole heir of Slytherin had vanished somehow, and the only one suffering was Colin.

"He'll be alright." Madam Pomfrey said, placing the vials into their slots beside the bed. "Once the mandrakes are fully matured, we'll be able to brew the antidote. It's just a matter of time."

Harry nodded. "Thank you."

Madam Pomfrey placed a hand on his shoulder, brief and steady. "You were right to come."

Harry nodded, unable to find words, then stepped away. He left the Hospital Wing, letting the door fall shut behind him with a soft click. The corridor beyond was almost empty, lit by globes of pale light that swung gently in an invisible draft. His footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway, it seemed not many students were close at the moment.

A sharp bang cracked the silence and made Harry freeze on the spot. The sound echoed through the stone halls, a second later, another one. There was nothing magical about it, he knew what those noises were. His heart seized, he had only ever heard a sound like that once, back in Surrey.

That was gunfire, there was no doubt about it. His mind struggled to process it. Who would bring a gun to Hogwarts? The idea felt wrong, alien even. There were already spells that could injure, stun and maim. A gun was muggle technology, no one would think of bringing one of them here. Especially not technology that was made to kill in a world where there were no healing spells or potions.

Another bang followed and he felt his heart hammer against his ribs. He spun toward the sound, hand reaching for his wand. He broke into a run, shoes slapping against stone, adrenaline surging. Around the corner, students were scattering, shouts rising in confusion. A heavy door at the far end banged open, and a startled Hufflepuff first year stumbled out, eyes wide.

"Get back inside, now!" Harry shouted, grabbing the boy's sleeve and pushing him toward the classroom again.

Harry pressed on, the corridor beyond smelled of smoke and metal, hot and acrid. Panic clawed at him but he forced himself to move forward, maybe he could help somehow, he had been practicing with Lynne, time to put it to the test. Even if he was terrified, he moved forward.
​

---

The quiet hum of the infirmary was broken only by the rhythmic tapping of Madam Pomfrey's wand as she worked. Spells flickered in the low light. Dumbledore stood at the far end of the ward, beside the high bed that held Lynne Volant. Her body was still, her shirt cut away to reveal a thick bandage wrapped across her chest.

The cloth was stained with something that wasn't quite blood, darker, thicker, and sluggish in how it soaked through the weave. She had survived three bullets, almost point-blank range, fired by Argus Filch in full view of a dozen witnesses.

"Merlin preserve us." Dumbledore murmured under his breath.

Snape stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, his face pale and drawn. He had carried the girl in himself, cloak soaked, eyes wild with urgency. He had a lot to say, it painted a very troubling picture, one where Lynne had been attacked in broad daylight, and that only her inhuman resilience had saved her life. And now they could even already confirm the reasons behind the attack.

And what they gathered haunted Dumbledore, which surprisingly wasn't just the injury, it was why it happened. Argus was stunned, lying unconscious and watched over by Flitwick in the corridor outside. Severus had already done the necessary, as he had pressed his wand to the old caretaker's forehead and used legilimency on him to extract everything they could to understand what led the man to do something so despicable.

The man's thoughts had been chaotic, distorted. A heavy fog hung over much of his recent memory, but in flashes, Snape saw it clearly enough. He has seen the image of Mrs. Norris, stiff as stone, lying in the corridor weeks ago.

He saw Lynne's face superimposed over that memory again and again and emotions of fear and anger. Snape had seen a cloaked person, that in whisper and low voice, convinced Argus that she had done it. That she had harmed his beloved cat and would do so again.

And then he saw the same hooded evil, offering him something small, cold and heavy. The muggle weapon, a gun that should have never seen its way into Hogwarts under any circumstance. Dumbledore had barely suppressed a chill. He'd seen gunfire before of course, many years ago, when the muggle wars got mixed up with wizards due to the involvement of the late Dark Lord, Grindelwald.

But more unsettling still was type of memories present on Argus' mind. Severs suspected that his memories were tampered with. It was not the work of an amateur, it could have fooled lesser wizards, but not his trusted spy. And deep within the memories, he felt a flicker of compliance as well.

Which could mean that he was easily influenced to hurt the girl or worse, they used the Imperius Curse on him. Dumbledore exhaled slowly, watching the candlelight dance in the polished edge of a nearby cabinet. He had been so sure that the school was beginning to settle, that the danger had receded, however briefly.

Now he felt that old pressure building again behind his ribs. His students were not safe, and although not many would see the threat in muggle technology, the muggleborn students certainly were aware of what happened. And Lynne Volant, whatever she was, had once again bled on school grounds. Although it was preferably that she was the target as she seemed to not die quite easily, he began wondering why.

She had not cried out or even whimpered, apparently even injured she had managed to disarm him. She had not complained, even when Snape had pulled her from the pool of thick crimson on the stone floor. Her face had been blank, but her arms had twitched, muscles firing as if preparing for a fight, even as she collapsed.

She was, in every sense of the word, unnatural of course, they had suspected as much the last time she was at the Hospital Wing. She was a construct of a ritual or soul magic, not even him with all his knowledge could figure it out.

A small click drew his attention. Madam Pomfrey snapped her wand shut, her hands trembling slightly as she folded another cloth and placed it gently at Lynne's side.

"She'll live." she whispered. "Though as I warned you before, it's due to her uniqueness, her body doesn't seem to require most normal organs as we do, so there is not much I can do to help other than patch her up."

Dumbledore nodded once.

"She needs rest, and she must not be moved. Do you know if her guardian will come?" Pomfrey added with a dark look. "I don't even know if I want that man in this room though."

He didn't answer immediately. His thoughts were elsewhere, already assembling the facts and what had happened, picturing the Board of Governors' inevitable demands, Lucius Malfoy's smug expression, and how little patience the Ministry had left for excuses.

How many attacks could Hogwarts withstand before his enemies could ask for him to stand down as headmaster? And what would happen if the girl died? He looked down at her again as her eyes remained closed. It really was fortunate that she would be fine.

He dreaded having to contact Thorne, and was thinking if he could avoid it somehow. The main problem would be the amount of witnesses and that probably some students already had contacted their parents via owls or were sure to do so soon.

"I will contact him but I'm unsure if he will come, like you, I'm hoping that he doesn't."

The wind howled outside the windows, Dumbledore looked outside while his thoughts went back to the girl again.

"Who is trying to kill her? And why?" he muttered.
​

---

"So very muggle. As a great master would say: So uncivilized."

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Strength returns in unexpected ways, sometimes carried on the gentlest of notes, like the song of a phoenix that fills hearts with courage when the darkness feels too heavy.
​

---

Chapter 18 - Resonance

The quill scratched softly against parchment, the only sound in the quiet of her office. Outside, snow was beginning to melt past the high windows, Scotland's coldness retreating slowly as spring progressed. Minerva McGonagall sat stiffly at her desk, spine straight, lips pursed in thought. The letter she was writing had been started three times already. None of the previous drafts survived her scrutiny.

'How did one inform a man like Solan Thorne that his ward had been shot?' She thought grimly. Her gaze fell to the parchment again, the ink had begun to dry but her hand hovered motionless above the page.

Even now, she found the words insufficient as Lynne Volant was barely alive in the hospital wing. Although that should've been cause for relief, it hollowed her out knowing that a student under her care suffered injuries like these two years in a row.

The fact that this was the second time she had gotten injured under Hogwart's safety combined with them not informing Thorne last year, made her feel guilty and ashamed. Neither attack had come from some foreign battlefield or unknown dark force in the forbidden forest, no. Both had happened here, within Hogwarts, under their very noses.

She folded her hands in her lap as her fingers tightened. The weight of the incident still clung to her like frost, that a staff member, even one as overlooked and bitter as Filch, could be twisted into an assassin and by Muggle means no less, was unthinkable.

It was something so vile and unforgivable, and yet it had happened at the best wizarding school. A young girl had been shot three times and almost killed had she not been so unique herself.

Minerva closed her eyes, thanking Merlin that no one else was injured in the attack. She was already concerned about Mister Creevey being petrified, now she was consumed by stress.

She was tasked now with making sure her guardian, Solan Thorne knew about the attack, if only because she had heard the girl mutter his name a few times and thought he might assure her that everything would be fine.

The only redeeming aspect was that Pomona Sprout was sure that next week a mandrake would be mature enough to procure a cure for the muggleborn boy. Of course there was another issue with having to coach him extensively in order for him not to fall back and to plan a way they could help him with his exams. Maybe easier or less extensive ones.

Still, she was feeling uneasy and unsure about her decision. Even decades later, Thorne's reputation lingered like ash. There were few living wizards whose war record she remembered with as much discomfort.

He had never worn a mask like the Death Eaters, or flown a Dark Mark over a village, but the destruction he left behind often eclipsed theirs. A man the war needed in desperation as the light side began to lose, operating under the thinnest veil of approval.

There had been times where even Dumbledore hadn't always known where Thorne's missions took him, or what they required him to do. Minerva opened her eyes and looked down at the parchment. In the end, she decided to be as blunt and short as possible, something she was sure he would appreciate.

Your ward was gravely injured. She is hospitalized and is expected to make an eventual recovery, thanks in part to her resilience and the swift response of others. I request your presence at Hogwarts at your earliest convenience so that she may be reassured and accompanied. - Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

She folded it carefully and slid it into an envelope, sealing it with a press of wax and Hogwart's ring. Then she called for her office owl, which flapped down from the perch overhead and settled with quiet grace upon the armrest. She handed it the letter with a whispered instruction.

"Find Solan Thorne." she whispered. The owl blinked once, took the message, and soared into the sky beyond the glass.

Minerva sat back slowly, her hands resting on the desk. She was still unsure if calling him here was the right decision, but whatever Lynne Volant truly was, she had bled for this school more than most now and she seemed to want him here.

If they couldn't keep her safe, then at the very least, they owed her that wish. She just hoped it wouldn't invite bigger problems.
​

---

The Common Room felt emptier without her. Even with Evan recounting his latest misfire in Charms and Meena trying to animate a folded paper swan with whispered incantations, the air felt thinner, like something important had been plucked out of it and hadn't returned yet.

Luna sat near the hearth, legs tucked beneath her, sketching gently in the corner of a well-worn notebook. Her lines curved into her father's latest creature waiting to be discovered, a creature, half owl half girl. But she wasn't entirely paying attention to what emerged on the page.

It was not that she was worried, not exactly. If the stories were true, and she didn't really doubt them, Lynne survived worse than what most people ever imagined last year. Besides, there was something about her that seemed too sturdy to break, no matter how many cracks appeared.

But the others didn't feel that. Her friends were still learning what Luna had understood long ago, that Lynne, strange and made of metal and silence, strong and emotionless as she was, was still someone who could get hurt. Harry sat nearby, not quite resting, his eyes fixed on the parchment in his lap but clearly not reading it.

His mouth was pressed into a firm line, the same way it had been since the Hospital Wing doors closed behind him yesterday. He had been the one to explain to the younger students what had happened, his voice even but hollow, repeating the tale and expressing his dread at almost losing his friend.

"She was shot." he had said. "Using a Muggle weapon. It's called a gun, and it is one of the foulest Muggle creations."

Most of the first-years had stared, not understanding the word. Terry had asked if it was like a wand, and Meena had shaken her head before Harry could answer, explaining that it was like an angry stick that spat metal. That seemed to unsettle them even more.

Luna had watched Harry throughout the conversation, the way he clenched his hands when someone asked if Lynne would die, the way he avoided saying her name after that. She had tried to make him feel better and had offered him a green jelly bean from the packet she kept for special occasions. She had even told him about the time her father wrote an article on Moon Frogs, just to distract him, but it had not helped much.

"She's going to be fine." Luna said, breaking the silence between them.

Harry looked up, surprised, as if he had not expected anyone to speak. "You don't know that." he said softly.

"I do." Luna replied, tapping her pencil twice on her drawing. "She will be fine, trust me."

He looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave her a tired smile, one that did not quite reach his eyes, and returned his gaze to the fireplace.

"I'm not only worried about her recovering, Luna." he said. "She keeps getting into trouble, this is the second time I have seen her injured like this, she is my best friend, I don't want to see her get hurt again."

"I think she would prefer it to one of us getting hurt in her stead." Luna said, setting the notebook down. "You have seen how protective she is with everyone."

Harry nodded slowly, his hand tightening on the parchment in his lap. "I hate that she's always the one in the hospital bed."

"She hates it too." Luna said, smiling gently. "I'm sure that resting, for Lynne, is the worst way to spend her time."

He chuckled softly in response and they fell into silence again, but this time it was softer. The fire crackled and sent little waves of warmth across the room. Around them, the others had gathered bits and pieces for the get-well box Terry suggested earlier. They had added notes, candies and a few folded drawings. Ginny had even sewn a blue cloth flower with mismatched petals that she insisted looked like Lynne's hair butterfly.

Luna added her own note to the pile, folded carefully. She sighed, even if she wasn't worried, she missed her awkward hugs.
​

---

The Board of Governors had gathered with the scent of old and outdated perfume still clinging to their subpar clothes, the great chamber warmed only by the flicker of chandelier light and the low drone of conservative agreement.

Lucius sat near the head of the table, hands folded over his cane, his expression a careful mask of concern. His patience, however, was beginning to rot beneath the surface.

For some reason he couldn't understand, they were satisfied. One could say they were content, even. As if the assault of a student by a staff member armed with a Muggle weapon were a minor embarrassment rather than a catastrophic failure.

He had spoken clearly, eloquently, laying out the incidents of the year, the petrified child, the blood-written threats, and now this latest affront, a Squib attempting the murder of a pureblood child inside school walls. Yet they seemed determined to minimize it all.

They believed the attacks had stopped, blind to the possibility that this peace was simply an intermission before the curtain rose on something worse. Then they believed that it was just resentment of a squib that finally snapped, which, in a way, was a good thing as they didn't suspect his involvement in that particular plan.

Their solution was merely to punish the caretaker and to offer help to the muggleborn that was petrified, but his motion to get Dumbledore from his Headmaster position was denied. In hindsight, he should have put more money to buy their votes, but he reasoned that it should have been enough.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, one of the main reasons he had orchestrated the attack was to kill the girl, not to get rid of Filch, as much as he despised the man. If only that freak had died like she was supposed to, then he was sure his plan would have worked and Dumbledore would be gone by now.

The Squib had been given enough ammunition to ensure she would not rise again, and had waited, quietly, for news of her death to reach the Prophet. But the opposite had arrived, the girl had survived.

Worse still, she had disarmed the old man, wounded as she was, so he couldn't do any damage to anyone else. And now, to his disgust, the Board merely called for Filch's dismissal, pending a trial that would probably see him banished from the wizarding world.

He had, of course, left enough evidence to discover the traces of the Imperius Curse. And if the squib was examined by Snape, it would have been easy to find. For some reason though, Dumbledore had not informed the board about the full extent of what they discovered. The man was many things, but scheming and cunning were among his rare redeeming traits.

Without that discovery, the board was not fearful of another mind having a hand in the attack. He couldn't really say anything about it without it hinting at knowing something he shouldn't.

Lucius had been meticulous, had ensured no trail led back to him, and yet something about the way the girl had survived or even that she had managed it in the first place did leave a small spark of fear. If the girl found out about his involvement, it would be dangerous for his son.

She would not know the truth, of course, and it was foolish to fear. Not unless someone opened their mouth, and there was no one left that could anymore. Still, the failure rankled. He had hoped that the girl's death, besides eliminating a threat, would spark Dumbledore's fall, finally severing the old man's influence and allowing someone more suitable, or at least someone controllable, to take his place.

Yet the rest of the Board had spoken with weary voices and bureaucratic calm, praising Dumbledore's handling of the school in light of difficult times. They believed this girl had no lasting consequence, that her injuries would heal and the year would finish without further scandal. They even expressed sympathy for the girl, for all the parties involved, as if sympathy had ever kept children safe.

He had forced himself to smile, to agree, to nod when necessary. But his mind burned behind his eyes. The only useful fragment to salvage from this debacle was the opportunity to finally confirm who had placed this strange girl under their protection.

She had no parents listed, no clear origin, and while his family held a name for themselves, they had gone extinct after their last heir married to the Lestranges. He had investigated from a distance, pulled strings, demanded records unsealed since the girl's first threat, yet nothing satisfying had turned up.

The records in the ministry were removed, and his spies suspected Dumbledore as he had also gone looking for the same information. Which could be good or bad news, as she could be under the old man's hand or worse, someone out of his control whom he wanted to rein in with favors.

But now, the mysterious entity that had trained that thing had a reason to be at the castle, and Lucius even had a justification to speak with Dumbledore directly so he could be there as well. The Board had appointed him to deliver the results of their vote and oversee the transition of responsibilities following Filch's removal.

It was an opportunity to finally learn what he was up against. And if indeed they were not under Dumbledore, he would love to see the confrontation that was sure to happen with the headmaster.

The best case scenario would be that he could convince them that they were on their side, or for his lord's cause. After the attack that killed the operation that Jugson and Selwyn were running he wasn't really expecting that to be possible, but one could dream.
​

---

Her body did not move, but her mind was adrift, suspended somewhere between sleep and sensation, anchored by the rhythmic pull of her core and ambient magic being pulled towards her.

She could feel it, low and steady, flowing through her like a tide, searching every wound, every shattered thread of fiber, stitching her back together with mechanical resolve. Thankfully, she couldn't feel pain but she could still feel something akin to pressure, the weight of her wounds and her body mending itself slowly.

She had known this might happen again and had tried to account for an imminent attack. She was ready, and although she didn't know what manner of weapon they used against her, in the fight she knew she could survive it.

What she had not accounted for was how strange it felt, to be lying still while her thoughts fluttered like paper on the wind, hearing voices through the layers of a world not yet fully restored.

Her mind knew that she was at the Hospital Wing, although it seemed that the usual silence was gone now. She heard the soft clink of vials being sorted, the faint rustle of curtains, the muttered hums of Pomfrey moving between beds. Somewhere nearby, she could sense the other student stuck at his bed, petrified, Colin Creevey.

But none of that mattered as much as sensing he was here. Her mind sharpened instantly, drawn toward the sound of footsteps she knew too well. That precise cadence, every step with a small skip, the unmistakable sound of his cane. A voice, low and roughened by age and control, speaking in clipped tones just beyond her curtain.

His master was here, her mind provided. She tried to move, but her body didn't respond. Her fingers, metal and ceramic alike, refused to flex. Her chest felt hollow, still mending from the impact of gunfire.

She tried to open her mouth, to speak, to call to him through the fog, but all she managed was a faint twitch of her left shoulder. It was enough to send a spike and pull on her magic through her torso, and she stilled again, drawing focus inward.

He was speaking to Headmaster Dumbledore. She heard the old man's voice, calm and composed, yet tinged with something weary. There was another voice too, sharp and oily, rising in agitation with every sentence. Her mind provided the name before she had to really focus, Lucius Malfoy.

She could not make out all the words, not clearly. They came like fragments in water. "…reckless endangerment…" "…the Board has decided…" "…I'm only here to communicate the decision…"

She strained. Her mind dug into the words, desperate for meaning. But it was like chasing shadows across glass.

"…do not presume to dictate terms to me, death eater." her mentor's voice cut through at last, clear and heavy with something far more dangerous than anger. "You forget your place."

"…ase, Gentlemen… calm… not the place."

The silence that followed was thunderous and she found herself trying to mend her wounds faster but her body was just too damaged yet. Then, a step closer. She could feel his presence approaching, could feel the familiar pulse of controlled power radiating from him like heat. He was here at her side at last.

She tried again to wake, her thoughts pushed like a tide against the walls of her own stillness. Her mind provided information on her situation, her body would take time, the wounds were deep, the damage intricate.

Her internal magic was prioritizing function first so her mind was alert now. Her mentor was near, and if nothing else, she needed to see him, even if just for a moment. A hand touched her shoulder, steady and cold.

"You'll wake soon." he said quietly. "There is no need now."

Then he was gone again, back into the fray of conversation behind the curtain. Lynne lay still, the pulse of magic humming beneath ribs half-forged anew. As he said, she would return to consciousness soon enough. For now, she clung to the knowledge that she was not alone and her mentor was here for her.

It was one of the few happy feelings her mind could fully understand, as he was perhaps the only one who understood what she was and what she needed, and had come for her.

And though her thoughts were slower than usual her mind was already sorting the information. Malfoy's voice, her mentor's presence and tone along with Dumbledore's. The world was still full of threats, both subtle and obvious, and Lynne knew she would have to stand again soon.

Her mentor being alive, now known to the world, was something they had discussed after all, and would only be done if the time was right. They would have work to do now that they were revealed to their enemies.

Her mind was now determined to enter suspension to resume the healing process faster, her consciousness slipping back into blackness.

She woke slowly, the world returning to her with a faint buzz under her skin and a flicker of artificial warmth along her spine. Her eyes opened in measured increments, letting the low amber light of the Hospital Wing seep into her senses without strain.

The curtains were drawn around her bed, muting the silhouettes beyond, and for a moment, she stared upward at the ceiling, simply breathing. Then she turned her head when her magic sense came alive and smiled brightly. Her master was seated beside her, reading from a scroll, one leg crossed over the other, his wand held lightly in his right hand.

The moment her eyes moved, he lifted his eyes to her. He did not speak at once, his gaze flicked to meet hers, sharp and unreadable, before the wand was returned to his coat with a smooth motion.

"Good." he said, his voice full of pride "You're awake earlier than expected."

She shifted slightly, registering her body's limits, making sure not to strain her now repaired body. Although there was a stiffness across her side, her arms were functional. Her legs felt a bit sluggish yet.

Her voice came low. "Master."

A thin smile touched his mouth for the briefest instant. "You did well."

He stood, brushing his coat back into place, and studied her closely, the weight of his expectations already gathering.

"I saw the damage." he said. "If that was a threat to the boy, he would be gone now. By you being the target, he was kept safe, which was our priority. You succeeded."

Her gaze lowered, calculating. "I'm glad you see it that way, master. I hope I didn't bring unnecessary attention to him in the first place."

"In a sense, you did, but the assets they could have used against him were used for you instead. Now they are no longer available." Thorne replied. "Ignoring that… He's worried for you, I see that you made good friends with him."

"I imagine he wasn't the only one. I made many friends here."

"True, many small ones came to visit you."

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity."

There was a pause, as if he were deciding how much to share.

"There will be no more recalibrations." he said at last. "We have reached that threshold. I will not waste time softening the blow. Our enemies now know I live, and although our plans did not change much, you need to remain as you are, unstable if required."

Her expression did not change, but she blinked slowly.

"I won't be functioning at my full strength, master." Wondering why he would want that.

"You did well, but I need the other part of you now." Thorne replied. "I need for you to draw on emotions if we are going to change to an open fight against them. For stealth, you were to remain suppressed, but the time for that is now gone."

She did not respond at first as the idea was unfamiliar to her. She was unsure if she could keep operational value if she was unstable, and most of all, she knew that keeping the other voice under control would be a difficult task.

He seemed to study her again, then spoke with less sharpness.

"You need the instability to fuel the Unforgivables curses. You will also need it to cast a proper Patronus."

She opened her eyes wide, now understanding what he needed. "Then I will do my best to manage."

"I know you will, but you won't be alone. I will help you keep my daughter under control. We begin training at the manor this summer. You will also learn your animagus transformation, it is crucial for our next mission."

Her fingers twitched under the sheets. She felt the voice inside her stir faintly, like a breath in the dark, but it did not rise. She wondered, quietly, if she was listening.

"Did she say anything?" he asked, as if reading her thoughts.

"She's been quiet, so far." Lynne answered.

"Good, then my method is working. You will be able to use her effectively, so don't fear."

Lynne nodded, though the gesture cost her effort, her body not cooperating with her fully yet.

He turned to leave, then paused. "Malfoy was the one behind the attack. He supplied the Squib with the weapon."

That landed with a different weight. Not because it was unexpected, but because it made the pieces fall into place.

"We retaliate?" she asked simply.

"Yes." Thorne said. "I trust you know what to do to hurt him. Do so enough and we might get him out of the fight sooner than expected."

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. Then opened them again.

"I understand."

"Good. Now, rest and take this potion in 4 hours, it is needed. I will go back and get ready. We have prepared long enough for this." he said, handing her a vial.

She nodded, her eyes focused with determination.
​

---

The Hospital Wing was warmer than he remembered it being. It might have been the light, the way the sun poured through the high windows now that spring was pressing gently against the castle.

Or maybe it was simply the fact that this time, the visit had not ended in dread. Harry stood near Lynne's bed, hands loosely clasped behind his back, watching her sit upright with the same quiet posture he had always associated with her. She looked almost unchanged, her usual pale and composed self.

For a brief moment he thought that maybe she didn't know what had happened to her, as she had been shot. Not hexed or jinxed or knocked down by a rogue spell. She had taken three bullets to the chest, and somehow survived, and now she was just sitting there like it had been a scraped knee and a long nap.

Maybe wizards didn't truly understand the dangers muggle weapons were. Otherwise he couldn't understand how she was as calm as ever without a hint of worry on her face. He briefly remembered that she wasn't really aware of Muggle inventions in general, so it was possible.

The others filed in behind him, Ravenclaws mostly. Some first-years, some second. Meena had her blue cloth flower in her hands and gave it a nervous twist before stepping forward and placing it gently on Lynne's blanket.

Terry mumbled something about being glad she was awake and tried to sound casual, though his eyes didn't quite meet hers. Evan waved awkwardly and stood off to the side.

Ginny lingered a bit longer, then set down a little box filled with Honeydukes wrappers she had carefully refolded into tiny stars. She didn't speak either, just gave a small nod and stepped back.

Luna moved forward last and did not ask permission. She hugged Lynne softly around the shoulders, resting her head against metal and cloth. Lynne did not return the embrace, but she did not resist it either, with a small smile on her lips.

Harry watched the whole thing from the foot of the bed. He didn't know what to say as he hadn't known what to expect, not really. Last year, after she had taken the hit meant for him, she had changed.

Her face had softened, her words had shifted, and the strange version of her that emerged had haunted him ever since. But now… she looked like herself, and the other 'her' was nowhere to be seen. Cold and composed and entirely Lynne, which was a relief.

"Sorry for worrying you all."

"Are you really alright?" he asked finally.

She turned her gaze to him. "I will be fine."

There was something final in the way she said it. He nodded slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

"We brought you a lot of things." he said, gesturing vaguely to the small pile on her bedside table. "Hope you like them."

"Thank you, I appreciate every single thing. I'm happy to have so many friends."

Madam Pomfrey appeared then, arms folded, eyeing the group like they were about to tip a bed over.

"Alright, one more minute, then all of you out." she said. "She should be resting."

They laughed quietly, even Lynne let her mouth twitch for a moment, almost like the start of a smile. Then the students began filtering out, trailing their well-wishes and hesitant goodbyes behind them.

Harry remained behind just a moment longer.

"I'm glad you're okay." he said, stepping closer.

She looked at him, really looked, with those unnervingly steady eyes. "Thank you, Harry."

He swallowed the sudden tightness in his throat and nodded. "Just get better, alright?"

"I will."

Then, quietly, she added, "Thank you for coming to see me."

He gave a small, almost shy smile, and turned to go. As he stepped through the doors, he glanced back one last time. Lynne was still sitting straight in the bed, fingers now gently touching one of Luna's folded notes, her eyes were unreadable but not cold.
​

---

Exams were coming, but for once, no one seemed all that bothered. The study tables in the common room still held their usual stacks of books, and parchment lay curled beside half-dried ink pots, but the tension that usually filled the air this time of year just wasn't there.

Harry supposed it had something to do with how much had already happened. When your friend had been shot and nearly died, a few hours of revision didn't seem all that intimidating anymore.

Not that Hermione saw it that way, she had retreated into her books the moment Lynne was out of the Hospital Wing, creating elaborate study schedules that she tried to impose on the others but mostly failed.

Luna remained unaffected as always, revising when the mood struck her and inventing memory rhymes about some weird creature when it didn't. Most of the other firsties were not that worried either, they had been cruising through their classes thanks mostly for Lynne's help.

Terry had memorized half his Transfiguration notes by accident just from helping Padma with hers. Even Ginny seemed oddly calm, claiming she had done better than expected and that worrying wouldn't help now anyway.

Harry tried to focus, he really did, but his thoughts kept drifting. He was also still riding the high of the Quidditch Cup. Ravenclaw had won their final match of the season, sealing their claim to both the House Cup and the long-coveted Quidditch trophy.

For once, the victory didn't feel like a dream slipping through his fingers. He had played well, made clean catches, and his team, thanks to Jeremy, had gone above and beyond to come up with new strategies for every match, and they had won.

Lynne had been there for the final match, somehow having recovered well enough. Most of the team were relieved as she was one of the key players on their unconventional strategies. She had smiled at him after the last game, offering him a nod of approval and letting the rest of the team chatter beside her about their journey to victory.

Virgil had also seemed lighter lately, even if his eyes remained a little distant. He had completed his NEWT project earlier in the week, presenting the translation spell with the same calm he had when explaining Runes to first-years.

The spell worked flawlessly and the examiners were so impressed that one offered to write him a personal recommendation for a master-apprenticeship in Charms, while another said he'd make a strong candidate for a department research assistant at the Ministry.

He had sought Harry out on the library's long table to share the news.

"I told them Lynne helped me, in the end." Virgil had said. "Not that she would have wanted the credit, but I don't think they really believed me."

Harry had smiled, not knowing exactly what to say, except that he agreed on her not wanting the credit. Virgil had become more than just another older student. He had been a partner in their quiet investigation of Lynne's weird behaviour earlier in the year.

"I'm going to miss having him around." Harry admitted now as he leaned back against the library armchair, legs stretched under the table.

"He's not dead, Harry." Hermione replied, flipping through notes beside him.

"I know," he said, grinning faintly. "Just… we finally got a proper team. You, Luna, Lynne, most of the first and second years even. And now Virgil's off to invent the next big spell."

Hermione shrugged. "That's how Hogwarts works. People come, they leave, I'm sure you can stay in touch with an owl. At least he may be back for some things, right? He did say he wanted to teach at some point."

Harry nodded, though something about the thought didn't sit quite right. Virgil had been one of the only people besides Hermione who really took an interest in what was happening with Lynne.

He had helped research everything they could about soul magic, about magical identity fractures, even about how possession could linger without detection. They had found ideas, patterns, and theories. But sadly no certain answers yet.

"Do you think she knows what's going on with her?" Harry asked suddenly.

Hermione looked up, brow raised. "Lynne?"

"Yeah."

Hermione tapped her quill once on the edge of her book. "I think she knows something. But whether she wants to talk about it, that's the real question."

Harry sighed. That was the hard part, he thought. Getting Lynne to open up, to explain anything. She could be surrounded by people and still feel miles away.

Still, she was here at least, alive and whole.
​

---

He stood by the open window in the Ravenclaw tower, arms resting on the stone ledge as he looked out over the lake. The water was still, dappled with late spring light, and the distant shape of the Forbidden Forest trembled with soft wind.

It didn't feel like the year should be ending. The castle was quieter now, not in the way it was during winter or exams, but with the kind of hush that came before something inevitable. Trunks were being packed and dragged around, while owls had begun arriving daily with reminders from families and ticket instructions.

Harry, though, wasn't ready to leave. He had made friends here, real ones. He really liked learning and finally he was feeling that his knowledge was no longer behind most people in the wizarding world.

Even though he no longer felt completely safe in the castle, it still felt that it was better than returning to Privet Drive, to the Dursleys.

Most of all, he had had a great year overall, full of cheers, friends and new experiences, like Quidditch. He didn't want to leave that behind, yet. Even if he knew that he would be returning to the castle for a third year.

Fortunately, he had more than one option this summer to avoid going to the Dursleys. Dumbledore had found him that morning outside the Great Hall, just before breakfast. The Headmaster had that same twinkle in his eyes that unnerved him at times.

"You are welcome with the Weasleys this summer, Harry." Dumbledore had said, voice warm but measured. "I know you had an interesting time last summer, and I had asked them if they were willing to host you."

Harry had mumbled a response, not understanding where that had come from.

"I know your friend Ginny would welcome you warmly. Do let me know if you agree with that plan, I'm sure they have a nice room for you."

Harry had blinked in surprise, caught between gratitude and hesitation. "That's… nice of them, I will think about it."

Dumbledore had simply nodded and moved on, robes trailing behind him like a curtain closing. Now, staring out across the grounds, Harry still hadn't made a decision. He knew that Dumbledore was probably right and the Weasleys would offer a room for him.

But his mind kept returning to the other option. The one that hadn't been offered aloud but still lingered like a secret waiting to be chosen. Lynne hadn't asked him directly, but like last time, he was sure she wouldn't even ask and follow him in her weird attached way, even if she now had more friends he could see always had her attention on him most of the time.

Besides, he was sure that Thorne would like his presence this year again, and he wanted to thank him again for the broom that had given Harry so many happy memories this year.

He shifted his weight, closing the window against the wind, and turned toward the stairs. He had made up his mind. He hadn't told anyone yet, but he wouldn't be going to the Burrow with the Weasleys.

He wanted to stay close to Lynne after seeing her hurt. He also wanted to understand what was happening to her from time to time and help if he could. And maybe, just maybe, to make sure that when the next danger came, he would be there to fight it together.
​

---

He had been too late, he thought grimly. By the time Draco was safely in their manor, the damage had already been done. The boy had barely spoken since stepping off the platform at King's Cross.

His eyes had darted constantly, searching faces in the crowd as if he expected someone to appear and drag him back. The house-elf had taken his trunk, but Draco wouldn't let go of his wand, not even for a moment.

Lucius had watched him carefully, noting the signs. The trembling fingers, the shallow breathing, the haunted stillness that settled over him during the ride home and refused to lift even after they reached the gates.

Narcissa had tried everything, from comfort, scolding, potions and even a mind soothing spell that she learned from her time spent studying as a nurse, although she never really worked a day in her life. It sadly made no difference as the boy had been broken.

A month back he had learned it was Solan Thorne behind the girl and he was never a man to be underestimated, and yet he didn't see this coming. Lucius had thought himself clever, thought he had time to set plans in motion and remain beyond its reach to eliminate him.

That was the old way, after all. Whisper a command, pass a pouch of gold, and watch the pieces fall into place. But he forgot about the fact that the girl had indeed already threatened his son's life once.

The only consolation was that Thorne had let him live, but the punishment his son endured must have been terrible for his young mind.

The moment Thorne had told him to get out of his sight in the Hospital Wing, he should have known. That tone, restrained and still, had told Lucius everything. He should have known that the damn ministry butcher had already planned to reveal that he was still alive to his enemies.

The one who paid the price though wasn't him directly. Draco did not speak about what had been done, but the signs were unmistakable. Not physical wounds, but fear woven into the corners of his posture, into the way he refused to be alone, into the way his gaze now skittered past windows and shadows like they were traps.

Narcissa had cried when she realized he wasn't responding to her voice anymore, not fully. She had held him for hours, stroking his hair and whispering things only mothers knew how to say. It had helped, a little. Enough for him to sleep or take potions to help with his panic attacks.

Lucius, however, could not sleep at all. He sat in his study now, staring into the fireplace, fingers laced beneath his chin, feeling dread and regret for failing to protect his son.

They would have to leave, he thought. There was no safety in Britain anymore, not for them. Not while Thorne was alive and walking free, and definitely not while the girl still attended Hogwarts without fear of any consequence.

Lucius could not count on Dumbledore to reign him in. The man had allowed her into the school in the first place, had ignored every warning, every sign. It had been naive to think Draco was safe in the castle and that they wouldn't try something there.

He would move Draco when they could improve his health. Let the other Death Eaters linger and play their games. He would not be among them when the hammer fell, he didn't want to sacrifice his family for pride.

They would move to the continent, there were old holdings still under his name in the north of France, untouched and well-protected. They would take the necessary papers, arrange discreet transport, and vanish before anyone caught wind of anything.

Then he would bide his time and look for his old master. He had heard whispers and hints of his presence last year, and although he initially had decided to ignore it as he had always feared his lord's madness, he now needed him to take revenge on Thorne.

Draco also needed time to recover and to be himself again. Lucius had once imagined his son standing beside him, carrying the Malfoy name into the next great age of magical rule.

Now, all he wanted was for the boy to laugh again and punish the abomination that had dared hurt him.
​

---

The platform was a hive of motion and noise, trunks being heaved into trolleys, voices raised in farewell, families weaving around one another like mismatched clockwork. It would have been easy to get lost in it all, but Lynne moved through the crowd with quiet purpose, Harry close behind her, and Ginny slipping through a parallel path toward the other Weasleys.

The younger girl gave them a final glance over her shoulder, her expression unreadable, then bumped purposefully into a passing witch and her books, drawing Molly's attention in a flurry of apologies and fuss, to help her pick them up. It bought them the seconds they needed.

Lynne turned at once, guiding Harry toward the far archway where Zicky had said he would be waiting. He appeared out of thin air with a pop, then the small creature took both of their hands and she felt the sharp tug behind her navel, a sharp blink, and the world snapped sideways.

They landed in the manor's atrium with a ripple of displaced air and the scent of iron and wood polish. The entrance hall was quiet, the chandelier swaying slightly above them. Zicky bowed at them, in his blue uniform with his hands tucked neatly in front of him, as if they had not just arrived unannounced from a covert extraction.

"Welcome home, Misstress. Mister Potter."

Harry gave her a grateful nod, brushing off his cloak and stepping aside as Lynne set down her satchel and transfigured her butterfly hair clip into her trunk once more.

They split soon after. Zicky led Harry to his room that had been already prepared, of course, and left Lynne to climb the wide stairs alone. She did so slowly, her fingers brushing the railing, feeling the familiar texture beneath her hand.

The manor felt different now, heavier somehow, like the air had taken on the weight of everything that had changed. Her room was as she had left it, her tools laid out in perfect order, books aligned by subject and thickness, the window left cracked open just enough to allow the summer air inside.

She shut the door softly behind her and crossed to the desk, removing her coat and folding it over the back of her chair.

Something hit her mind, it wasn't a memory, more like a residue. A flicker of thought that wasn't her own. She could feel it stirring behind her eyes, pressing gently at the edge of her awareness like a bird brushing glass.

It was subtle at first, just flashes of laughter in a hallway she didn't remember walking through, the taste of something she had never eaten, a name she didn't recognize echoing with warmth.

She exhaled slowly and sat down, her fingers folding together on the desk. The other voice inside her had been quiet since the Hospital Wing, but now it was stirring again. Not with words, but feelings and memories, as if her mind was merging with her into a soft surrender, not of control, but of space. Their thoughts were no longer wholly separate.

Some of those strange thoughts and feelings she could not identify as hers, were being allowed to stay. She had not given them permission, not truly, but she couldn't push them out either.

She didn't know what that meant yet. Only that she was changing. Her magic was more volatile now, threads slipping free when her emotions rose. She had burned through her core a couple of times already without even raising her hand and her magic had pulsed wildly when she was having fun with her friends at the end of the year.

The inner voice remained distant, but she could feel its shape. A soft presence that was no longer passive in the back of her head. As if waiting for her to acknowledge it not just as an echo, but as part of herself.

She spent the entire night going over the collection of memories and feelings, cataloguing and analyzing well into the following morning.

A knock at her door broke her thoughts, then her master stepped inside, his expression warmer than usual. His eyes flicked over her, taking in her stance, her breathing, the slight tremor in her fingers.

"Good." he said. "You're adapting."

She gave a short nod. "I'm managing, master."

"That's enough."

He gestured and she followed, down the stairs again, past the atrium, and into the dueling chamber beneath the east wing. The stone floor was clean, the training dummies stacked to the side.

Thorne crossed to the far wall and drew his wand, he took a small wooden bowl and placed it at the center of the room.

"This is nostalgic." he said. "Teaching you again after all these years. You have done well so far, but restraint is no longer our path."

She met his gaze. "I'm going to finally use the Unforgivables."

"I want you to master them with your newfound emotions. If you are to continue with our missions, you must use everything at your disposal." he answered.

"You were unable to use them before, which is why we never practiced them even if I did use them on you."

Lynne didn't flinch as she stepped forward and drew her wand, letting the silence settle between them like smoke.

His master quickly transfigured the bowl into a rat.

"Pain first, to make your interrogations faster, with enough pain, a fortified mind falls." he said.

She nodded. Her magic rippled through the room, fed by the strange storm inside her. Her anger bled together until the spell took shape in her mind.

"Crucio."​

 

[Lucernello]

Glossary & Random World facts - Year 2

Magic & Spells.

Spells:

Confundo: A charm which confuses and misdirects the target. It works on living and inanimate things, as long as the target has a mind to be confused
Everte Statum: Charm that causes an opponent to fly back several feet, and causes a short sharp pain depending on the strength of the spell, but does not cause any lasting damage.
Impervius: A charm that makes an object repel water and mist. Used by Lynne on Harry's glasses.
Legilimens: A charm that allows the caster to perform Legilimency; in other words, to delve into the mind of the victim, permitting the caster to see memories, emotions and thoughts.
Obliviate: Memory charm, also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, is a charm that can be used to erase specific memories from an individual's mind.
Rennervate: A charm that awakens a living target from a state of unconsciousness. Consequently, it serves as the counter-charm to the Stunning Spell.
Serpensortia: A transfiguration spell that conjures a live snake from the end of the wand.

Magic:

Apparition

It is a form of magical transportation in which the user travels instantly from one location to another without traversing the space in between. This is accomplished by focusing on a desired location in the mind and then purposely disappearing from the current spot to reappear at the destination. Apparition is by far the fastest and most convenient way to reach a destination, but it is tricky to perform correctly and disastrous if botched.
The ability to Apparate is a relatively advanced skill for wizards, but other magical creatures are also capable of disappearing and reappearing at will, such as house-elves, phoenixes, Diricawls, and Zouwus.
Apparition is a popular method of travel in the wizarding world, though many adult witches and wizards choose not to use it, preferring slower but safer methods such as broomsticks, the Floo Network, or Portkeys.

Animagus

An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can transform themselves into an animal and back again at will. It is a skill that can be learned, unlike the hereditary ability of a Metamorphmagus. Information on Animagi is taught to Hogwarts students during their third-year Transfiguration class. An Animagus Registry exists to keep track of those who have learned to transform in this way.
Any witch or wizard who wishes to become an Animagus must undergo a ritual-like process to achieve the ability. The process of becoming an Animagus is long and difficult and must be done in a very specific way. It requires skill, practice, and patience.

Magical Creatures & Beings

Elves:

A house-elf is a magical being that is immensely devoted and loyal to the one designated as their master. They serve wizards and witches and are usually found in the employment of old wizarding families residing in elaborate establishments, such as mansions. They must do everything their masters command unless they are freed. A house-elf can only be freed when their master presents them with clothes.
House-elves possess their own brand of wandless magic which, despite their small physical size and lack of a wand, is very powerful. All house-elves have their own form of powerful magic, which allows them to perform tasks, such as Apparating where wizards and witches cannot. Their abilities remain even after they are freed from their masters. More than just mere housekeepers, house-elves are ruthless protectors of those to whom they give their allegiance.
Their magic is limited by the lack of a wand. However, unlike some other magical beings, a house-elf is actually quite happy not to own one, as they do not require it for their daily activities. Apart from routine domestic tasks, house-elves usually need to obtain permission from their master before using their own brand of magic for other purposes.

Nargles:

The Nargle is a magical creature that Xenophilius Lovegood believes exists, though many others believe them to be non-existent or to be extinct. Nargles are known to infest mistletoe, and to be mischievous thieves. Luna Lovegood claims that her Butterbeer cork necklace keeps the Nargles away.

Phoenix:

The phoenix is a large, swan-sized scarlet magical bird with red and gold plumage, a golden beak and talons, black eyes, and a tail as long as a peacock's. Phoenixes usually nest on mountain peaks and are gentle herbivores, not known for fighting. A phoenix is also one of the most independent and detached creatures in the world.
A phoenix is normally magnificent, but every so often, it must rejuvenate itself through an event known as the Burning Day. During this event, the bird suddenly bursts into flames, only to rise from the ashes shortly after as a newborn chick. Within a number of days, it grows back to full size. As a phoenix approaches its Burning Day, it looks dreadful, resembling a half-plucked turkey. Its eyes become dull, feathers begin to fall out, and it starts making gagging noises. Thanks to this ability, phoenixes live to an immense age, perhaps even forever.

Diricawls:

The Diricawl (known to Muggles as the Dodo) is a plump, fluffy-feathered, and flightless magical bird native to the island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. It is capable of disappearing and reappearing elsewhere, except when under the effects of Levioso. Diricawl eggs are green in colour.

Zouwus:

The Zouwu is a "five-coloured" creature that resembles a "gigantic elephant-sized cat." It is a monstrously large feline-like beast with a striped body similar to that of a tiger, a scraggly lion-like mane, four fangs that curl out of its mouth, long sharp claws, and a disproportionately long, ruffled multicoloured tail.
The Zouwu appears to be able to Apparate. This ability is powerful enough to bypass the Ministry's measures against Disapparition.
​

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World Wise:

The Order of the phoenix:

A secret society founded by Albus Dumbledore to oppose Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was created in the 1970s to work with the Ministry to oppose the Dark Lord and his followers, and played a crucial role in the Wizarding War. Their casualties were overwhelming when compared to the Death Eaters and it disbanded by the end of 1981 after Voldemort's fall. Its members were still in touch with Dumbledore should he need them.

Wizarding war:

The Wizarding War was a major wizarding conflict, with foundations as early as the 1940s, but officially beginning in 1970 and ending in 1981. It marked the original "reign" of the most powerful Dark wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort. This war took place at the height of his power and caused widespread panic and fear among the magical and Muggle communities.
The Dark Lord's insurgency was supported by his Death Eaters, a covert and violent group of dark wizards and dark witches who served him and brought terror to both the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds. They were opposed in turn by the British Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix.

Locations

Chamber of Secrets:

The Chamber of Secrets is created beneath the dungeons of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during medieval times by Salazar Slytherin. He disagreed with the other Hogwarts founders on the merits of blood purity. Before leaving the school, Slytherin constructed this Chamber with the hope of purging the school of those he considered unworthy to study magic. Slytherin had developed grandiose ideas of his own importance to the school, leaving a statue of himself in the chamber. The snakes carved around the Chamber of Secrets reference Slytherin's powers as a Parselmouth. The Chamber of Secrets is home to an ancient Basilisk. The Chamber is flanked with towering pillars entwined with carved wood, and the Statue of Slytherin stands at the far end. The Basilisk resides within the mouth of Slytherin's statue, symbolising Slytherin's ability to speak Parseltongue.

Potions

Polyjuice potion:

The Polyjuice Potion is a potion that allows the drinker to temporarily assume the physical form of someone else. It is highly complicated, challenging, and time-consuming. Polyjuice Potion is highly complex to make.
The potion is so advanced that it consists of two separate parts, each with its own set of steps. Once the brewing is complete, the potion must stew for a month before it can be used.

AN: Resonance is the last chapter of the second year, I hope you are enjoying the story so far. I will take a week off to revise the following chapter, also I'm expecting art of Lynne to be ready by then and share it here. Also... no, the snakey snake was not dealt with, back to slumbering and totally won't be a problem later on. Leave the poor thousand year oldie alone ​

 

[Honoa51]

Awww. It's just so sad watching Lynne terrified of her own feelings. Also, mega-chonking abusive to subject a girl to that much child-soldier conditioning.

Jeez is that harsh. The extent of her surgeries and modifications… she's practically a cyborg. Though I'm intrigued for the rationale why Thorne isn't also using substitute limbs for his bad leg.

I'm surprised also though that Lynne wasn't taught more restraining and AOE type spells. Using bombardment spells on the pixies was both overkill, and minimally effective. An animated rope, or immobilizing spell like demonstrated in the movies would have been far more effective.

And in terms of munchikin-ing, I would have expected her to have been taught the unforgivable curses. Maybe her innocent soul is important? It seems the case, since otherwise she should probably have a horcrux to be on the extra safe side (held in trust by Thorne). I can definitely see the problem with conjuring a patronus though.

Does she know Fiendfyre? I expect that it's among the easiest, ultra-heavy spells to teach an assassin like Lynne (if crabbe can do it, how hard could it be). And of course the counterspell for it, and how to control it. Plus its utility for destroying powerful artifacts such as horcruxes.

 

[Lucernello]

Hey Honoa. I hope you are liking the story so far.

A comment on why she never attempted unforgivable curses yet: for them to work, you need great skill but also a lot of willpower, the emotion is what drives the spell to work, to really want to hurt or kill or control. Something which she was severely lacking being suppressed all the time, you may theorize the main reason for this if you want .
Bombardment spells are nice, but since Lynne was trained for single target elimination, it wouldn't have been its focus.

Fiendfyre is a very situational spell to use in general, but yes, you are right, if crabbe can do it, most people can, a few of those do not live to tell the tale though, but we shall see, a long way to go.

 

[Honoa51]

I guess she's young or something, So maybe Thorne was prioritizing her using the fastest, and simplest spells in battle (blasting and cutting) with stunning for non-injurious takedowns, and thus she defaults to them in combat. And training her aim makes it way simpler to scale up. And I guess also her shield spell reflexes, and healing, along with her martial arts.

On the other hand, how exactly does the Fidaleous charm work here? I imagine it would be a great addition to Lynne's trunk, or her T&I room, with Thorne being her secret keeper, and it being a place she can bug-out to, as well as apparate back to if she needs a quick escape.

Edit: Is something like that in play for her? Or are there complications with employing that sort of thing for her.

 

[Lucernello]

I'm going to throw you a curve ball here... does Lynne age?

The Fidelius Charm was ancient and a very complex and powerful spell, to cast it to something that can move and change places would be incredibly difficult. I don't think it would be possible but rules are there to be broken and I like your ideas, could be.

 

[Honoa51]

Hehe. Grimuld place certainly has a moving entrance, so the explanation could be that part of her trunk links to a real location in the world, and that's how it's anchored. The enterance is in her trunk, but the real location is somewhere theoretically findable. Like Mt Miyaboku or the other places where the Naruto Summoning Animals come from.

I'm going to throw you a curve ball here... does Lynne age?

Click to shrink...

Actually did consider that.

It seems that for Lynne, she was probably human as a baseline, but perhaps she's had so many extra modifications that what she simply doesn't register as human to most spells and such. Black blood, a different internal organ structure, does not need to eat, sleep, or drink among other mods.

As for ageing? I don't think it's difficult for her not to be. At least not if the mods are biological and as extensive as I think they are.

If she doesn't age, the plan would quite simply for her to swap out body parts as needed to simulate physical growth. Different face-plate, eyebrows, lashes, hair, limbs, chest, everything gets swapped out periodically.

But it's also possible Thorne wasn't able to stop her aging process. But if it were me, I would have given it a try.

If she does age, it's going to be her biological parts. Obviously she experiences the passage of time, and has experiences, so by definition she ages, but if the mods are all just tweaking her magically to substitute food, sleep, and hormonal regulation, or if it's important for her to be physically 11 years old and aging to go to Hogwarts, I wouldn't put it past Thorne to allow those features too.

Her biology is probably as simplified as possible, to be compatible with healing spells, but also for her self-regeneration, while offering as little as possible to enemies. So possibly a hysterectomy too.

I didn't get that much from the hospital PoVs, so did I miss something?

 

[Honoa51]

Oh, and I will say I liked the deal with Lucius Malfoy. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Touch Lynne, and Draco gets it. A message to keep things civil at Hogwarts (or else). Bringing a gun is a massive escalation, and it seems that Lynne isn't bulletproof. The way it keeps her unconscious and immobile would suggest that her skin isn't any harder than it should be, and the holes show that she doesn't have any shielding on her organs either. Otherwise a pistol should have done nothing more than knock her off balance.

So I think it's perfectly reasonable that Thorne simply didn't think of that. I hope that oversight will be corrected with haste this year though.

It does strike me as strange though that Thorne seems to have meta-knowledge such as the true identity of Scabbers to have him assassinated, and stealing the Diary from Ginny. Yet didn't think to prepare Lynne for or against guns, when she's been trained for almost everything else.

Although I question her flight capabilities. She threatened to explain, but never actually did. But I could imagine that she either has a harness or something with a broomstick type or kinetic enchantment to give her that capability. Or possibly integrated to the rest of her. After all, the question is just "why not" at that point right?

 

[Lucernello]

Hey Honoa!

You did put a lot of thought into this, so I will answer everything I can without giving spoilers hopefully.

Thorne did need a few parts in Lynne to age, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to accommodate her in the same year as Harry. But those can be replaced after she is already enrolled. Lynne can change her body parts yes, as seen after her losing them against Quirrell in first year and Thorne taught her how to in case of an emergency, there are some parts which only he can tweak but she already knows how to escape Hogwarts unnoticed and head to the manor if she needs to.

Madam Pomfrey already knows she is not human, she lacks several organs which should be there, and what she does have, functions a bit differently from normal. Why would she not have everything replaced? Well, its because even though it is not fully explained, I expect some parts to be needed for her to be able to have a magical core in the first place, but all things that can be replaced to make her more efficient are fair game. The problem with such modifications is that she is dependent on how much her magic core can be strained or exhausted to keep her functioning. Her self-regeneration being something that takes a heavy toll but keeps her alive even with dire wounds.

Thorne received no education whatsoever on the magical world, all he learned was from being an Unspeakable at the department of mysteries and what tools he could gather while waging a war, having that in mind, even though powerful, Solan does not have enough years of experience with magic to make something able to defeat the most powerful players of this world, although he tries.

If you had partial knowledge of the wizarding world, would you expect a gun from appearing when one never made its way to Hogwarts in what you know? Thorne will find it hard to think of all contingencies now that he already changed a lot of what he knows. Being smart enough to think of all possibilities doesn't come often in many people. He certainly expected Gibbon for example to not be an obstacle and didn't think of hiding Lynne's face or arms or even using polyjuice for her, revealing her too soon. He makes mistakes, like we all do, and has to adapt to that.

It is fair to assume she can use flight if she knows of different methods one can use without a broom or another assisted tool, time will tell.​

Edit: Something else to consider is that Voldemort as an Homunculus could perform the killing curse without issues, so what was it made of? If you go looking for information on the curse, everywhere it says that it takes a lot of power and skill, somehow he was able to do so on a body that lack a lot of things, but that resembled in a way, a human being. But also some animals are able to perform magic without issues as well, so what is really needed? It's something interesting to think about.

 

[Honoa51]

If you had partial knowledge of the wizarding world, would you expect a gun from appearing when one never made its way to Hogwarts in what you know? Thorne will find it hard to think of all contingencies now that he already changed a lot of what he knows. Being smart enough to think of all possibilities doesn't come often in many people. He certainly expected Gibbon for example to not be an obstacle and didn't think of hiding Lynne's face or arms or even using polyjuice for her, revealing her too soon. He makes mistakes, like we all do, and has to adapt to that.

Click to shrink...

Oh, I didn't expect that. I thought he had Lynne acting as his assassin identifiable on purpose. Uncovered face and arms is to brazenly declare: It's fucking on bitches, I'm ready for round two.

It was more along the lines reasoning to protect her organs from excessive force. Stuff like enchanted knives and pebbles used as bullets, and not specifically to prepare her for bullets precisely, but to physically harden her without magic being apparent.

But I could also take the explanation that he doesn't know how to do that, or that the tech doesn't exist at this point in time to reinforce her internal organs.

As for what body parts she needs? I imagine part of it is souls. But given the way ritual components seem to work (blood of the enemy, bone of the father, flesh of the servant) and then chucking Voldemort's tiny baby-form into the cauldron for his reincarnation, that bone marrow might be the essential component here, as those are the connected concepts.

All organs need blood, so my natural assumption would be that she would need natural human bone marrow. Flesh, bones, and blood. And a soul. Possibly a brain and brainstem. But stuff like lungs, heart, stomach, liver, intestines, uterus, are probably redundant.