Ferox Angelus

Ferox Angelus

I saw your face that night

Purity from the heart

No longer having to pretend

Ferox Angelus

I never knew from the start

I was blinded by fear

Don't leave me alone again

Ferox Angelus

I should've known

- Labores Solis Williams

Chapter 1 -- The Beginning of Revelations

"Um, nice flat," she said awkwardly, looking around the neat, darkened room. The bookshelf was neatly lined with many books, and a Forever-Blooming Snowdrop was shifting through the curtains, trying to catch some of the sunlight. Nike shuffled her feet nervously, looking up at her father's cold, black eyes.

"We'll go to Diagon Alley after breakfast," he said coldly, the corner of his mouth twitching oddly. "What else do you need besides your textbooks? Hogwarts is a top-rate school. Did they teach you anything in that worthless Australian school of yours?"

Nike wrinkled her nose, and tried to restrain herself from lashing out her tongue and throwing a comeback at him. After all, this was her new father. Yes, she had had plenty of other fathers, but this was her real one. After being moved to approximately five wizarding homes in her 15 years of life, she was contacted by what he claimed was her real father. When she received that letter -- it was like she was about to live a new life. She would no longer move around, but the cold and emotionless, black-haired man with the ice cold, ruthless eyes was not what she expected.

She expected someone who would be happy that she was coming to live with him; not someone who acted as if having their lost daughter living with them was one step away from being on death trial in wizard prison. Severus Snape, so far, had been one of the coldest and ruthless people she had ever met.

"So, what should I call you?" she asked slowly, testing the springs on the mattress in her new bedroom. "Um, should I just call you Severus?"

His face winced in surprise, as if he had just been punched in the stomach. "Just call me--" He paused a bit, furrowing his brows furiously, searching for a name in his mind that wouldn't make him want to stick his head inside a cauldron and throw up. Does she really need to call me anything? He wondered. I've been out of her life for so long. Does she even know what really happened? Would she still want to live with me if she did? "Severus. Just call me Severus." Professor Snape sounded too formal; he really didn't want his own daughter to address him as if she were his student.

"Severus," she repeated. She threw herself back onto the bed and her black hair that so resembled Snape's own fanned out, her emerald-green eyes glittering. He gazed at them, the memories of Lily Potter rushing back into his mind, wondering insanely if Nike had any idea of who her mother was, and if she didn't, the bigger question: would he ever tell her?

"You can unpack while I cook breakfast," he said hesitantly, the emerald-green eyes haunting him. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be lost in them for a moment before twisting around and stomping out of the room.

Scowling in confusion, Nike lied down on the mattress gingerly before snapping open her trunk and unpacking. After sorting her five sets of robes, several quills and pages of parchment, her wore-out fragile magical diary, and several framed photographs of her previous Muggle and magical families, she had came across the one thing in her life that was still a major mystery.

The silky smooth fabric tickled her skin as she smoothed it over. The fading sunlight caught the baby blue hues of the dress robes, the colors dancing tauntingly, as if it were a mystery begging for her to solve it. Her first Muggle family had told her it was the only thing that survived her wrecked house; her first adoptive father worked for the Muggle government and tried to gain access to a database that would allow him to search for her mother or father's file. Surprising at the time, but explained later on in her life, they came up with nothing.

She had absolutely no recollections of her mother; perhaps her new "father" would be able to tell her something. She made a mental note to ask him at breakfast, and stared out of the small window, which through sunlight was pouring. There was something peculiar, she noticed. Severus's small backyard held a single, lonely swaying willow tree, surrounded by a sea of dried and ignored leaves. One of the advantages of living in an all-wizarding village was that magical plants could be planted; Nike recognized the sight of a few flowerbeds lying along the edge which contained half-planted Flutterby Bushes, Climbing Roses, and what looked like a poisonous Krittlebee plant. What was Snape trying to do there, poison anyone that dared to come into his tiny, messy garden?

That wasn't what had caught Nike's eye in the first place, though. Behind the swaying willow tree, there was a bald spot that the leaves did not cover. She had expected a patch of green there, but instead there was a layer of dirt. It certainly looked as if Snape, or someone else, had buried something under there but forgot to spread leaves over it. She furrowed her brows, and was about to walk closer to the window for a closer investigation, until she heard Severus's voice, asking her to go to breakfast.

***

"Uncle Vernon, you really don't have to do anything -- I'll leave on my own, on the Kni-- the wizard's bus," Harry pleaded. Uncle Vernon flinched at the mention of the wizard's bus, and was neatly folding his copy of the daily newspaper down at the table, gritting his teeth furiously.

"As long as none of those barking mad people arrive in our house," he said coldly, his lips twitching oddly. "Petunia and I will not tolerate another one of those visits. We mean it, boy." Harry caught the satisfied smirk of a somewhat reduced Dudley out of the corner of his eye.

"They won't pick me up," assured Harry, "None of the Weasleys are going to visit your hell -- house." Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had failed the catch Harry's slip of the tongue, where he had almost called their home a hellhole. Without another glance, he hurriedly walked up to his room, and quickly packed his trunk of his Invisibility Cloak, Marauder's Map, his schoolbooks, quills, parchment, and tore the chart of counting down to the days until Hogwarts off his wall. The day after tomorrow, he would be taking the Knight Bus to the Burrow.

As expected, Mrs. Weasley had not agreed at first. After much persuasion from the rest of the Weasleys, she agreed to comply on the condition that Hagrid would be there to meet Harry. Professor Dumbledore had owled Harry, and told him to "please remain residence at the Dursleys until the day after tomorrow. It is vital that you do, since I expect that you will be visited." Harry anxiously hoped that it wasn't another visit from Dobby; Mrs. Figg was invited to tea tomorrow and the Dursleys were more anxious than ever to keep him locked in his room.

***

"Oh, Hermione, we're so glad you could come."

Mrs. Weasley was nearly in tears as she put her arms tightly around Hermione Granger, coming close to suffocating the girl. Ron had mumbled a sleepy hello, as had the rest of the Weasleys, except for Ginny who had already hugged her two times.

As Hermione sat down at the breakfast table, Mrs. Weasley laid out two eggs and two pieces of toast in front of her, with a cup of pumpkin juice at the side. Mrs. Weasley wanted her to eat her breakfast before unpacking into Ginny's room, after all; it was "the most important meal of the day."

"Where's dad?" inquired Ron casually, poking at his eggs unenthusiastically. "And Percy? I thought you told me that they would all be home this week."

Mrs. Weasley waved her wand and the dishes in the sink started cleaning themselves. She untied the strings on her apron, folding it neatly before putting it away. Sighing heavily, she sat down at her seat at the table, and answered Ron's question unenthusiastically. "Your dad's been working like this everyday, Ron, it's time you get used to it. I don't know where Percy might be, though I suspect that he's at work, too --" she confirmed her suspicions by staring up at the grandfather clock the Weasleys had. Mr. Weasley's hand held steadily at work, but Percy's stood suspiciously at travelling. "Of course, he must be visiting Penelope. I wonder why he didn't leave us a note. That's really not like him, maybe something's wrong--"

"Maybe goblins kidnapped him," suggested Fred hopefully, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice. "Couldn't stand his rambling about how wrong it is to trust people so much, that they couldn't take anymore and did us all a favor and just kidnapped him."

Mrs. Weasley frowned furiously, dropping the fork she was holding. "Fred, don't joke about things like that. Frankly, I don't see how you would not be surprised and shattered at such a horrible thing that Percy experienced."

"That his boss was a Death Eater in disguise?" snorted George. "You would have to be Mad-Eye Moody to not be surprised. And let's face it -- could you ever imagine old Mad-Eye getting a date? Girls don't dig that whole 'constant vigilance thing', you know."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged looks of exasperation. Fred and George had grown more and more obsessed with girls during the summer, both having a steady girlfriend that came to visit at the Burrow every two weeks or so.

"How would you know?" asked Ginny. "You're not a girl -- sure, maybe you wish you could be, but let's face it, you're not."

"I have animal magnetism," replied George simply, sniffing. "I know things like these. Bill told me. Right Bill?" He poked an elbow at a grinning Bill Weasley, who looked a bit flustered and exhausted at the moment, looking as if he had just ran a marathon.

"It's not animal magnetism," Bill corrected knowingly, "it's the Weasley charm. All the Weasley men have girlfriends--well, not Ron -- or dad --but most of us have girlfriends due to the irresistible male Weasley charm. Coeur's coming to visit next week. She has a younger sister at Beauxbatons -- Fleur Delacour, I think? Ron, she was in the Triwizard Tournament -- that Veela girl."

Hermione scowled slightly, and Ron visibly reddened, trying to act like Bill had said nothing. Fleur Delacour, he decided, was aiming a bit high -- he still wasn't over the terrible embarrassment he has suffered when he was trying to get a date for the Yule Ball. On the subject of the Yule Ball, he wasn't quite over Viktor Krum and Hermione, either. He tried to avoid thinking more on subject, especially when Hermione mentioned her recent visit to Bulgaria.

"You've got Weasley charm -- I've got pure animal magnetism," said Fred, sniffing. "Angelina said so."

Hermione nearly choked on her pumpkin juice as she sputtered. "Angelina said that?"

Fred gave an appraising look to Hermione, as if she should've known the answer. He grinned widely and shrugged, "Well, no, but I suspect she thinks so."

"I wouldn't be so confident," muttered Ginny dryly. "How's the joke shop coming along?" She saw her mother's eyebrows furrow in disapproval, but Fred and George were exchanging looks of pure delight.

"Well," began George, smirking, "a lot so far, but we sort of need -- to experiment it, first -- the Weasleys special Dyeverything Balloons -- they're dye balloons. Would you be willing to -- be a... experimenter?"

"We really can't dye any more of our room," added Fred quickly, "we need to know what happens when it's thrown on human skin. I mean, we wouldn't want anyone bursting in flames --"

"Oh, that's very safe," snapped Mrs. Weasley, "the dye better not be permanent. I swear, if it is permanent, you'll be looking forwards to be scrubbing away your room for the rest of the summer. And don't you dare dye any of your brothers or sisters -- we've suffered enough from all your experiments. Not Hermione, not Harry, either," she added quickly, catching the eye of Hermione.

"But mum, how are we going to know if it turns someone into a warty green toad?" wailed Fred, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Throw it on yourselves," she proclaimed coldly. She turned away to look at Hermione and Ginny in a very final sort of way, and asked more kindly, "Ginny, how about you show Hermione your room and you can help her unpack?"

"Oh sure," muttered George, "you're willing for your own sons to turn into warty toads. We're your only twin boys -- what if the dye makes us lose our sense of humor to add that spark to your day? The family would be bored to death by Percy and his thick-bottomed cauldrons."

Mrs. Weasley ignored them, flicking her wand to order the dishes to fly to the sink and wash themselves.

Hermione and Ginny were walking up the crooked stairs, chattering lively.

"When is Harry getting here?" asked Hermione, scooping up Crookshanks with one arm. "I'm surprised Professor Dumbledore let him come."

At the mention of Harry, Ginny blushed slightly, but her tone of voice remained steady. "The day after tomorrow--I overheard Professor Dumbledore telling my dad that he'd cast Protection Spells on the Burrow, and I think he's going to get someone to ward for Harry."

"I really hope he will come," said Hermione heavily, pushing open the door to Ginny's room. "The last letter I got from him was filled with angst, you know. He thinks that we're going to all are in danger, because of him. I convinced him otherwise but he's still miserable. I don't know how Ron did with that, though--you know your brother, I'm afraid he did more bad than good. I know he really cares about Harry, but it's all a matter of words. Harry's being too sensitive right now."

"Ah." Ginny sat on her bed, fiddling idly with her flame-red curls. "Charlie, Ron, my parents -- they all refuse to tell me what happened at the third task. I was kind of hoping that you'd tell me," she added.

Hermione's face dropped as she snapped her trunk open. "I don't know, Ginny -- it's kind of personal for Harry, and I'd really hate to, you know, invade his privacy. I'm really sorry. You shouldn't probably try to talk about it with Harry -- it's really hit him hard."

Ginny looked somewhat disappointed, but she shrugged nevertheless. "It's okay. I'm used to it -- no one in this family ever tells me anything, anyway. It's no surprise."

"Ginny--I really didn't mean it like that."

"I know," she said, sighing miserably. "But still, I'm always the last to know."

***

"This is good," complimented Nike as she gobbled down a piece of Snape's blueberry waffle. "Did you make this?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, as if Nike was challenging him to something. "No," he said heavily, "it's Mrs. Crocker's Instant Waffles. You do have a wand, don't you? Don't tell me I have to pour you the bloody maple syrup."

"Well," said Nike weakly. She sincerely hoped that Snape would suspect that she didn't have a wand, but she knew that was extremely unlikely. The truth was, the baby in her previous magical family had snapped it in half, and she had lost all hope that it could ever be patched with Spellotape. "The baby in my last magical family -- he sort of snapped it." She pulled two pieces of wood from her robes, smiling weakly.

"Damn," Snape swore softly. "I guess we're gonna buy a wand on top of all those books. Fifth year -- you've got OWLS." He waved his wand over Nike's waffle, sweet maple syrup pouring out of the wand-tip.

There was a long period of silence until Nike blurted out, "Who's my mother?"

Snape was taken by surprise. He dropped his knife in surprise, and then picked it up with his wand, directing it to the sink. He ran a hand through his greasy black hair, his face scrunching in pain. He remained silent.

"I've waited fifteen years," said Nike, with a surprisingly cold tone. "I deserve to know."

Snape decided to directly ignore the comment; he directed all the dishes to the sink with the wave of his wand and they began to wash themselves. He strolled over to the closet and pulled a cloak and a bag of Floo powder.

"Floo powder," he spat, opening the bag to let Nike take a pinch. "Take it to the fireplace--"

"I know how to use Floo powder," snapped Nike furiously, throwing the powder into the fireplace. The flames roared higher than she was, and they tickled her skin as she stepped into the flames. "Diagon Alley," she said, and disappeared.

Snape swallowed nervously, rubbing his chin. It wasn't going to be an easy thing, explaining the story of her mother. Nike, he knew and could tell, was one very stubborn girl. Not unlike him when he was her age. She wasn't going to take no for an answer, no matter how painful and how many memories it brought back.

***

"Oh, hello Mrs. Figg," greeted Harry with a weak smile. Mrs. Figg seemed older and wearier than ever, and the smell of cats scenting her surroundings. Behind him, Harry could hear the stampede of footsteps, namely Aunt Petunia and Dudley trying to get downstairs at the same time.

"Hello Mrs. Figg!" shrieked Aunt Petunia shrilly, plastering on a very fake smile. "How nice it is to see you! Come in, the teas all ready. I'm so glad I could fit this into my busy schedule. Now come in, Mrs. Figg --- my son, Dudley." She didn't even bother acknowledging the fact that Harry was there; when Mrs. Figg had her back turned to them, Aunt Petunia waved an anxious hand in Harry's face, signaling for him to lock himself in his bedroom.

Harry almost reached the stairs when Mrs. Figg croaked, "Now Harry! Stay with us, will you? Have some tea and biscuits -- where are you off to so suddenly?" Harry couldn't quite decide if Mrs. Figg was speaking sarcastically or actually wanted Harry to join Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and herself for tea.

"Oh, no, Arabella, see, you wouldn't want a boy like Harry at tea. You know how troublesome boys can be -- this one goes to the Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys! You're not safe! He could start attacking us all any second. See, the safest place for him and for us is his bedroom."

"Nonsense!" shrieked Mrs. Figg, even louder than Aunt Petunia. Harry felt a bit suspicious; why hadn't Mrs. Figg acted with such hospitality at her own home? Now she was asking Harry to join them for tea? Mrs. Figg strolled over and planted a firm hand on Harry's shoulder, directing him to the parlor. It was amazing how strong an old woman that lives with so many cats could be.

Harry had no choice but to follow Mrs. Figg, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley to the parlor. Aunt Petunia poured a tiny droplet of tea into Harry's cup, and kept shooting nasty looks at him. Mrs. Figg was smiling widely at him, though, and kept patting his hand appreciatively.

"Now Petunia, you know how this boy's a wizard?" she asked casually. Aunt Petunia smashed the cup she was holding in surprise, and sprayed tea in all of their faces. Dudley appraised Mrs. Figg suspiciously. However, the most confused of them all was Harry, who was gawking with his mouth open at Mrs. Figg, wild thoughts running through his mind. Was Mrs. Figg a witch? How would she know if she were a Muggle?

"N-no," stuttered Aunt Petunia, calming down slightly and wiping away the tea on her blouse. "A wizard? What's-what's that?"

To everyone's surprise, Mrs. Figg simply gave out a loud wave of laughter, swirling her cup of tea casually. "Don't pretend any longer, Petunia -- it's not healthy. See, I'm magical, too."

Aunt Petunia looked murderous. Harry was gawking even more, but the events made sense. The cats she owned must've been Kneazles; he thought he was going mad when one of them handed his glasses to him when they fell off due to his rare allergies.

"It's a charm Professor Dumbledore set on him," continued Mrs. Figg, "he's protected whenever he's here, by me, namely. Lord Voldemort -- I assume you know who he is? -- Has returned, and Albus thought that it was time Harry knew how he was protected while he was at Privet Drive. I'm sure you've wondered why Lord Voldemort didn't simply show up and kill you," she added, with a smile. The tone of her voice was so casual in mentioning Lord Voldemort murdering Harry that it was almost scary.

Aunt Petunia didn't ask any questions. She curled up her lip unpleasantly, slamming the teapot down at the table, making it swivel. Dudley looked up at her uncertainly, his face glaring with fear. "It's been a pleasant visit, Mrs. Figg," she snapped, getting up and planting a hand on Mrs. Figg's shoulder. She directed Mrs. Figg to the door, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Go to your room," said Aunt Petunia breathlessly to Harry, "I mean it. Go to your room and feel lucky that Vernon isn't here."

Harry was more than happy to oblige. He pulled out three fresh sheets of parchment, and drew out a quill, getting ready to write separate letters to Sirius, Ron, and Hermione.

***

"Hi, Hermione."

Hermione looked up to meet the nervous eyes of Ron Weasley, standing in the doorway of Ginny's bedroom. "Hi, Ron."

Hermione didn't quite know why it was so awkward for both of them to talk; they had been best friends for nearly four years, but this was the only time when both of them were quite speechless.

"How are you?" asked Ron nervously, leaning against the doorframe.

"Why can't we talk to each other anymore? This is too awkward and I don't like it," Hermione said abruptly.

"Well, if you wanted to be better friends, you wouldn't have gone to Bulgaria -- and especially right after Hogwarts Express! God, if you could only see how much of a prat Viktor is."

"He's perfectly nice, Ron -- he even bought me a broomstick as a going away present. Nimbus 2001," she added, jerking a shiny broomstick out of her trunk.

"Oh, so now he's giving you presents, is he? Trying to buy you with his money?"

"He's not trying to buy me," snarled Hermione, polishing the smooth handle of the broom. "I told him that my parents didn't have money to buy me one, so he got this one for me. Do you have a problem with this, Ron?"

"Can't you see? He's trying to -- he's -- I can't believe you don't see that -- that -- he's trying to buy your heart with money!" blurted Ron, immediately turning red afterwards. "I would least expect you of all people to fall for it!"

"Buying my heart with money?" repeated Hermione, with the same tone that she repeated "scarlet woman" last year, upon reading the article Rita Skeeter had wrote about Harry and her. "God, Ron, we're just friends. What is up with you? Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Every time we talk, we argue. What's going on?"

"Nothing," spat Ron angrily, "but I think you're just too blind to see that Krum isn't right for you. I just want you to realize it before it's too late!"

"Before it's too late?" asked Hermione, quizzically. "Ron, there's nothing going on between Krum and me. If it was my personal affairs that you really wanted to know, why didn't you just ask? Thanks for you concern, by the way, but I can take care of myself, Ron."

"Fine." He turned away to gaze momentarily into the hall, and there was thick, silent tension between the two. Hermione made a confused face, as if she weren't sure what had just taken place, but she got up and slipped through the door, her broomstick in hand, to join Ginny, Fred, George, and Bill on the Quidditch field.

"You're playing?" blurted Ron.

Hermione furrowed her brows, as if Ron should've expected it. "Well, yeah, Viktor sort of got me interested. It's not a crime, is it?" she added with suspicion.

"No." He turned away, heading for the Weasleys' broom-shed. "Pretty soon you'll be on the Quidditch team, too, I suppose?" he muttered silently under his breath as he pulled out Charlie's old broomstick, a battered Cleansweep 3.

***

"Are those all my schoolbooks?" Nike asked, pointing to the bulging package Severus was holding in his right hand. She shifted her feet slightly, to gain balance. She was holding a very heavy package of Astronomy and Divination instruments that kept tugging her down in her left hand, and a bulging light package of her Hogwarts uniform, and dress robes that Severus had refused to look at in the other hand. Hey, it was on the list.

"Yes," said Severus, "we need to stop by the apothecary for your potions ingredients. This way," he directed. "And we still need that wand. In the same alley at least," he added heavily.

They entered the dusty, smelly shop silently. Severus planted a firm hand on Nike's shoulder, directing her over to bins of her basic Potion needs. Nike felt slightly uncomfortable, but she wasn't in a position to do anything, since she felt like she would tip over to the left if Severus tried.

She wrinkled her nose at the rotting smells wavering over the bins and turned away with disgust. Severus started picking out amounts of each ingredient with his wand, as no one ever dared to touch the materials barehanded. "Go pick out a cauldron," he hissed. "I can't believe you came with absolutely nothing. Not even a cauldron." He shook his head sympathetically, sighing.

Determined not to let Severus get to her, Nike dropped her packages at Severus's feet and strolled over to the gleaming cauldrons that sat together. They smelled slightly better.

She was humming a tune to herself, inspecting the pewter cauldron gingerly, when she noticed a serious-looking witch was glaring at her with furrowed brows. When the witch saw Nike look up, she quickly said, "I'm sorry, it's just that -- how old are you?"

"I'm fifteen," Nike replied, slightly confused. "Why? Is there a problem?"

"N-no. I'm actually a teacher at Hogwarts -- do you go there? I've never seen you there before -- it just sort of surprised me. I'm Professor McGonagall," she added.

Nike hesitated a moment, not sure what to say to it. Severus's shrill voice behind her, however, rescued her. "Minerva? Fancy seeing you here."

"Severus. What are all the packages for?"

"Her," he said simply, jerking his chin towards the direction of Nike. "Nike," he introduced, "this is Professor McGonagall. She teaches Transfiguration. Head of Gryffindor house," he added with distaste.

"Oh, I understand now," said Professor McGonagall, still with furrowed burrows. Her tone of voice revealed that there was still some slight confusion. "This is -- your daughter, then?"

Severus winced slightly, but nodded. Professor McGonagall looked more confused than ever, but she quickly exited, with a cauldron and several bags of potion supplies. Severus turned to Nike and magically lifted her packages through the air over to where they were standing. "We're finished," he croaked, "wand next."

Sighing, Nike followed Severus to Ollivander's wand shop, where the air was thick and dusty; the shop, unlike the others, was dimly lit, filled with boxes to the ceiling.

"Come buy your wand?" asked a wheezy voice. Mr. Ollivander, presumably, limped his way to where Severus and Nike were standing. Severus directed the packages over to a group of chairs, and taking a seat.

"Yes -- my last wand was snapped," said Nike. She looked around the shop, all the mysterious objects making her imagination run wild. "My right hand is my wand hand," she added, seeing that Mr. Ollivander was taking out a dusty old tape measurer.

Mr. Ollivander was a tall man, even for his age. The tape measurer immediately jumped to Nike's right arm, but Mr. Ollivander instinctively bent down slightly, anyway. She winced as she heard what sounded like brittle bones being snapped. Mr. Ollivander wheezed, and pointed his wand to the doorway. He did the traditional wrist movement, and to Nike's surprise, an exasperated young man appeared in the doorway, rushing to Mr. Ollivander's aid and directing him to a chair.

"It's okay, grandfather, I'll take care of her," he said with a hint of impatience in his voice. He turned to Nike and smiled, and summoned several boxes from the back of the room to his feet. He jerked them open with his wand and several new sparkling wands flew out. "Try one," he urged. "It's a new spell I worked out. It works much better than the last one--nightmare it is, trying to sort the wands."

Nike put her hand to a wand uncertainly, and waved it in the air, waiting for the warmth in her fingers that would be there if it were the right wand. Mr. Ollivander's grandson watched with a smile, informing her on the wand's statistics. "Evergreen, banshee hair, 10 inches, very springy."

"Banshee hair?" spat Severus with confusion. Nike had almost forgotten that Severus was there, in midst of waiting for the warmth in her fingers with the grasp of each wand.

"Banshee hair," repeated Mr. Ollivander's grandson with a smile. "It's a new discovery, sir. Their hairs are wonderful for curses. We've been experimenting with several new magical substances, lately."

"Banshee hair," Severus muttered. "The things they're dreaming up."

Mr. Ollivander's grandson must've not heard his last comment, because he returned immediately into providing wand statistics for Nike.

As the minutes passed on, Mr. Ollivander's grandson was summoning up more boxes, and Mr. Ollivander was gazing at Severus in a dazed sort of way, with a grin plastered onto his face. Nike was growing more frustrated by the minute by the lack of warmth every wand had, and Severus was moving seats.

"Ah it's been many wands, hasn't it?" Mr. Ollivander's grandson summoned another box, and wands flew out when he tapped it. Strangely, the wands glowed against the dimmed lights. "These are special wands--new experimental substances. They're all mixed, you see. Combinations such as unicorn hair and phoenix feather, dragon heartstring and banshee hair--they can be quite strong."

As Nike grasped the first wand, sudden warmth warmed her fingertips, and she smiled, doing the traditional wand flick. Nike was expecting a shower of sparks, but the shop was drowned in a sea of blue and gold sparks, lighting up the whole shop.

"I see that you are very compatible with that wand," said Mr. Ollivander's grandson, with a concerned smile on his face. "One of the latest new experimental ones--phoenix feather and dragon heartstring. I've seen it to be strong -- very, very strong and powerful. Almost stunned a whole crowed with a single curse. Are you quite sure -- that--it's the one for you?"

"Yes -- you saw how much it sparked," said Nike, beginning to experiment with the wand. She flicked it again, and the shop was drowned yet again in silver and orange stars. She glanced quickly at Severus, who was wearing a look of curiosity. She quickly slipped off a bracelet from her hands, placing it on the floor. She pointed at it with her new wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The bracelet levitated four feet in the air. She felt a strange connection with the bracelet, through the wand, as if the wand was controlling the bracelet's height. Experimentally, she jerked it upwards, and surprisingly, the bracelet did the same thing.

Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "You're the only one who can do that with the wand. I tried a simple spell with it -- levitating one... it flew through the roof. Amazing, Severus -- you must be proud." He looked at Severus with the same dazed expression, making him squirm.

"Are you really sure you want that wand?" asked Severus lazily. "Mr. Ollivander and--"

"Andrew," supplied the grandson. "My name is Andrew Ollivander."

"Mr. Ollivander and Andrew both say that it's quite hard to perform with that wand -- are you really sure?"

"Yes," said Nike, with tone of frustration.

"Here, let me experiment with it." He jerked the wand away from the scowling Nike, and flicked the wand. Nothing happened. He pointed to a picture framed on the wall. "Accio!"

Andrew's brows shot up into his hairline. "Nothing happened," he said, gazing at Severus with astonishment. "Nothing happened. Something should've happened. Nothing happened. This is extraordinary, Severus. Your daughter -- even though she is underage, she can perform the basic spells in here. When you tried that -- nothing, nothing happened." Severus frowned uncertainly, his mouth twitching.

Nike had a small smile plastered onto her face, and took her wand back. She pointed her wand to an empty owl cage. "Accio!" The empty owl cage flew into her arms, without her needing to grab it. "It's working for me," she said smugly, banishing the owl cage back to its original place.

***

"Mrs. Figg -- one of -- one of you?" stuttered Uncle Vernon, with a glint of fear in his eyes. He kept on rubbing his moustache, and collapsed onto the living room sofa. "Get me a brandy, Petunia... Dudley -- go, go do your homework. Boy, go to your room!"

Dudley looked at his father uncertainly, and left with an indignant sniff. Harry hid his smile until he reached the staircase, receiving a disapproving scowl from Dudley. He reached his room and locked himself in, throwing himself onto his bed.

So that's how he was protected. Unlike what Mrs. Figg had said, he hadn't really thought of why Lord Voldemort couldn't just Apparate to the Dursleys residence and perform the Killing Curse on him. He had been having more dreams lately; flashbacks at the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric's limp body crumpling down to the floor, the glimpse he caught of Cho's face at the Leaving Feast. He felt guilty, but he knew that there was nothing that he could do about it. Nothing could raise the dead.

Wormtail's weak, wheezing voice sometimes interrupted his peaceful dreams, turning it into another nightmare. Lord Voldemort's gleaming, cat-like face would soon appear afterwards, his ruthless, cold laugh rippling in Harry's mind. He shuddered, and wondered why Mrs. Figg had forced her to eat her tasteless food at her house. She must've performed freezing charms on the photographs she used to show to Harry, but he remembered a certain moving photograph of enthusiastically waving wizards and witches, their diplomas in their hands, all of them smiling widely. Then he remembered that a certain auburn-haired wizard must've been Professor Dumbledore; he looked a little younger than what he did remember the younger version of Professor Dumbledore in Tom Riddle's diary.

His streams of thoughts were interrupted as a tapping sound, made by a haughty tawny owl with parchment in its beak. He opened the window uncertainly, and the owl flew in, dropping the envelope at his feet.

Ripping open the envelope with puzzlement, he realized the parchment and envelope was like none he had seen before from Sirius, Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, or Ron. He unfolded the letter, and read:

Dear Harry:

How have you been doing lately? My family's been pretty shattered by Cedric's death, and my mom and dad are on vacation in Aruba. I'm staying with the Diggorys--their house is pretty big, and I've visited the Weasleys once from here.

Cedric's death has hit Mrs. Diggory the worst, and Mr. Diggory doesn't even talk at meals anymore. I have had some pretty fun times playing Quidditch with Cedric's younger sister, Ceanne.

I really don't know why I'm writing this letter. See Mrs. Diggory's already planned Cedric's funeral, and all the Weasleys are invited, including you. I convinced Mrs. Diggory to also invite Hermione Granger, since I know she is one of your close friends--if you're going, anyway. Mrs. Diggory also included a more formal invitation with this letter. I originally declined the invitation, but if you're going to go -- I was closer to him than you were, and you were there when he died... so if you're going to go, then I will...

The funeral's about a week into the school year. We're giving out the invitations early because--well--the Diggorys want a lot of time to prepare a special service.

This is really awkward for me to write. I hope you're having an okay summer.

Cho

He was shocked, dropping the envelope. He could feel wet spots on the letter, and supposed that Cho had cried during writing the letter. Something else dropped out-- a small piece of parchment, with the picture of a lily on the front. In delicate script, Mrs. Diggory had written all the necessary information of Cedric's funeral.

He really didn't want to go--it would be like reliving the nightmares he had. He was surprised that Ron hadn't mentioned anything about it in his letters, even though his whole family had been invited. Hermione hadn't mentioned anything, either. He supposed they were trying to avoid bringing up the subject of the Triwizard Tournament or Cedric Diggory, for his sake.

He tried to tell himself that he should've got over the nightmares of the Triwizard Tournament by now, but there was a stubborn part to himself that just simply refused to listen, and kept telling the other part of him that he shouldn't go--it was a mental war.

***

Hermione was hovering between the Quidditch hoops; Bill had just got hold of the Quaffle and was zigzagging his way to her. A confident smile was plastered on her face, the result of a week with a Quidditch maniac. She gripped her broom tightly, and jerked it suddenly to the centre, going to meet up with Bill.

Bill was smiling with an evil glint in his eye, leaning back slightly to throw the Quaffle, aiming it exactly at Hermione's left. Hermione dived down quickly, grabbing the Quaffle, sighing with relief. She raised her hands up in triumph, and did a little victory dance in the air. "Hey Ron! We're winning!"

She could just barely catch a glimpse of the flustered and red Ron at the other end of the Quidditch field, whispering something to Ginny. Ginny threw her head back with a loud laugh, and slapped Ron on the back, whispering something back.

"Not bad Hermione," hissed Fred. "I never knew you were so good at Keeper -- try out for the Quidditch team sometime, will you? We could use someone like you now that Oliver and Katie are gone."

"Katie Bell? She's leaving? Why?"

"She's Head Girl," said Fred grimly. "She wants to commit to it. Don't know how the Chasers are going to perform without her," he added glumly.

"Oh--wow, Katie--I knew she had it in her."

"Don't say that like it's a good thing, Hermione. Don' t -- ever -- say -- that -- again."

"Hey, guys! Mum made cookies!" Ginny started flying down to a table, with a pitcher of lemonade and four plates filled with Every Flavour Cookies. Several glasses also landed at the table, moments later.

The whole Weasley gang and Hermione settled themselves around the table, digging in on the cookies and the lemonade. The pitcher kept refilling itself, as did the plates, so they were all content as they lied themselves down by the lake, staring up at the clouds.

"Hey, that looks like Professor Dumbledore," pointed out Charlie, stretching his arms and legs out as much as he could in the dragon hide clothing he was wearing. Hermione sat up suddenly, and poked Ron in the side.

"Ron," she hissed, "how does Harry seem to be to you?" Ron rolled over and sat up, rubbing his stomach where Hermione had poked him.

"Harry? Harry's fine, what about him?" said Ron, moving to closer to the lake. "Look--that frog's giving birth."

"Ron," Hermione said with exasperation, threw gritted teeth. She put a hand on his shoulder and jerked him around, forcing him to face her directly. "Did he seem okay at all to you? He looked pretty depressed to me."

"Who?" asked Ron, distracted, watching frogspawn swimming around in the pond.

"Harry! Ron, pay attention, will you?"

"Oh fine." He turned around and put himself into a sitting position, facing Hermione. "No, I didn't tell Harry that we were invited, either. I mean--what would I say? 'Oh, by the way Harry, you know that guy You-Know-Who killed, and you had to watch him die? His funeral's on Saturday--you have the right robes, don't you?' What would you have done?" Ron rolled his eyes, taking his wand flicking it casually making sparks shoot out of its tip.

"I know," said Hermione weakly, successfully cupping a hand full of sparks. She released them into the lake, watching as the water sprayed out. "I worry about him everyday." To this remark, Ron's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Who else do you worry about?"

"You. I worry that you'll fail," said Hermione, shrugging. She turned slightly pink as she stretched her legs out, taking off her socks and dipping her feet into the pond, her feet sweeping the water in circles.

"Really." Ron did the same thing as Hermione, shooting more sparks into the water. He shifted towards Hermione slightly, a weak smile plastered onto his face.

***

"If you even accidentally blow up the house with that wand, I'll -- I'll -- ground you."

Severus looked nervously at Nike's new wand, glaring at it as if it had caused a whole mound of trouble.

"Ground me?" repeated Nike uncertainly, her eyebrows raised. "Ah. I'm going to put away my new robes."

Severus sat himself down on his favourite chair, grabbing the book he was trying to finish before the school year started. He made himself comfortable, curling up and propping the book up against his knees. He looked and felt undignified--what if one of the Hogwarts students had seen him like this? Without his shoes on, his robes stained, but surprisingly, his hair washed? His reputation would certainly be trashed. He uncurled himself, clearing his throat as he read in a proper position, sitting upright.

Nike burst through the door, her fingers gripped tightly on her wand. She raised her eyebrows uncertainly, and took a seat beside Severus on the other chair. "Severus--are there any other children in his neighbourhood?"

"I wouldn't know," snapped Severus, shutting his book loudly, "I don't talk to any of my neighbours."

"You don't?" blurted Nike in amazement. "Wow. Can I go test out the new broomstick, then? I'll use the Muggle Repelling Device," she added.

Severus, unwillingly, had bought Nike one of the best models of Chaser brooms, the Nimbus 2000 Chaser's Edition. It had came, as a bonus; with the latest invention, a Muggle-Repelling device, a compass, and a basic broomstick care kit. "I hope you try out for the Quidditch team," said Severus sourly. "It's not worth it to buy you that broom if all you're going to do is fly on it."

"So can I go?" Nike seriously needed time to clear her head, and try to pick out a good time to ask Severus again about her mother. Riding high above the clouds, in her opinion, was the most soothing meditative therapy method.

"Go, go," snapped Severus impatiently. "Don't get caught up in trouble, and all that. If you break that broomstick, you wouldn't catch me dead buying you another one. Be back around 6." Nike turned to grab her new brand new broomstick out of the closet, and smiled. She gripped it tightly, poking her wand into her robe pockets.

The weather greeted her sarcastically with thick humidity. It seemed as if there were tensions in the air. She let the broomstick hover a bit before flying up, remembering to flick the "on" button of the Muggle-Repelling Device.

The wind whipped her face harshly, but she thoroughly enjoyed how therapeutic it was to her. She roamed over the green pastures that filled the world beneath her, her heart beating a steady, calm beat.

***

"Ron. What do you think--" Hermione hesitated slightly, watching as Ron scowled in confusion. "What do you think changed between us? It's weird -- there's too much tension between us right now and I've never been this awkward at the Burrow before."

Hermione smiled weakly, accidentally putting her hand on top of Ron's. A bolt of electricity shot through her, and she jerked away immediately, blushing furiously.

"I don't know," whispered Ron. He was turning red, too, sincerely hoping that Hermione would touch his hand again. Unconsciously, he shifted even closer to Hermione, who was sighing in despair. "It's Vicky," said Ron suddenly, beginning to grit his teeth in frustration. "Vicky. That's what's changed."

"His name is Viktor," hissed Hermione. "I really hope that's not all that's bothering you, because there's nothing between us."

Ron's heart sank, beginning to dance with joy. He turned red around the ears, and tried to smile. "Good."

Hermione looked at Ron suspiciously, but smiled. She placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, trying to ignore the electric current that once again ran through her body. Ron instinctively leaned closer, and he could smell Hermione's scent of sweat, grass, and mint. He had a strange urge to lean even closer, perhaps enough to kiss her.

Hermione, her eyes locked on the pond, didn't realise what Ron was doing. Ron was placing both his hands firmly on the base of her neck, pulling her closer. He leaned forwards and kissed her fiercely, but Hermione pushed him away quickly. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed furiously, red with anger. She was blushing, too, but her ferocity and anger conveniently covered that up.

Ron was blushing, his whole face red. He pulled away and turned around, facing the pond instead. His hair matched his face quite nicely. "I'm sorry," he croaked. "I don't know where that came from."

Hermione's lip trembled as she tried to avoid the flood of tears that she felt coming on. "Is that what this is all about? Ron, listen to me!"

Ron's mouth twitched, but he remained silent. Hermione seemed to take the silence as "yes", because she asked no more, because she got up and walked away. He felt his family's stares and eyes on him, but he didn't care anymore. He knew that Hermione would probably never talk to him again, but strangely, a part of his heart felt relieved.

"Ron," Ginny whispered to him softly, taking a seat beside him. "Do you want me to talk to her?"
"Why would I need you to talk to her?" asked Ron in mild disgust.

"She'll probably never talk to you again."

"True. Go talk to her. Whatever you want. Just go, Ginny. Stop hanging around me."

With a slightly triumphant smile, Ginny got up and followed Hermione's footsteps to her room.

"That's not animal magnetism," observed Fred dryly. "That's pure stupidity."

Turning around, Ron felt like slapping Fred. George was watching sympathetically, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. "It's okay," George said optimistically, "It's Hermione. She won't stay mad at you forever."

***

Nike swept over the green hills, checking her watch periodically. She had thought clearly and calmly about her mother, and how she should approach Severus in asking him again about her. Obviously, he was still a bit stressed over her last attempt. She didn't take that as a good sign.

And the mound of dirt in his backyard -- she felt drawn to it, as if it had a deep secret about her mother, or something concerning her. She was strangely puzzled yet fascinated. When she noticed that she had approximately half an hour to get back to Severus's house, she turned her broom around and zoomed away.

She flew twice as fast as she flew before, therefore arriving at Severus's house five minutes early. A strange sight caught her eye -- the mound of dirt had been uncovered, and it seemed as if there was a topaz box buried underneath. The box was glittering in the sun. She decided to land down in the backyard, hoping desperately that Severus wouldn't notice her.

She was careful to push a mound of leaves aside, giving her a seat to sit in without the rustling of the leaves. Her broomstick was set aside as she peeked into the full-length windows in the living room. Severus didn't seem to be in there, so she began brushing away the dirt.

"Wow," she said breathlessly. The box was encrusted with large topazes, and a rusty looking lock was secured tightly onto it. A thin layer of dust covered the box, and she blew it away softly.

It seemed, as if there was writing carved onto it--she couldn't recognise the writing. It looked like runes, but she had taken Ancient Runes in Australia, and she was sure that it wasn't a type of runes she had studied before.

Desperately, she jerked the lock, knowing that it wouldn't open. The box opened a peek, and she couldn't see anything except dust. She caught a peek at the living room, and watched as Severus settled down on his favourite chair, opening up a book, his back against her. She silently put the box back, covered it with the dirt, and covered her seat with a layer of leaves.

"Hi," she greeted dully as she walked into the living room, her broomstick in hand. Severus made no indication that he had heard her.

After she had put away the broom, she sat down beside Severus and watched him expectantly as he read the thick book. "What book is that?"

Severus still said nothing, but turned the book's cover page over, so Nike could read "A History of Forbidden Curses, Potions, and Objects". Wrinkling her nose, she said distastefully, "Why are you reading that?"

"Because," said Severus, his voice barely a whisper, "you never know who might stab you in the back."

"Ah." She caught a peek of the page Severus was on: "The Syaman's Ancestor Death Curse," the title read. She read on.

The Syaman's Ancestor Death Curse is a rarely recognised illegal curse, placed on enemies and wrongdoers, mainly as revenge. There are two parts: a treasured, sentimental valued item of the curser which can kill the cursed one when activated or touched by an ancestor of the curser, and a treasured sentimental valued item of the cursed one.

This practice was mainly done in the 1600s, as a form of revenge upon an enemy who had killed a member of a prestigious and rich family. Most of the time, the ancestor will touch the sentimental valued item purposely to kill the cursed one. However, there are many cases where it is unclear whether it was a coincidence, or whether the Ancestor Death Curse was used.

"Would you stop reading like that?" Severus snapped in annoyance. "I hate it when people read over my shoulders." Nike shrugged apologetically, a little dazed from her reading.

"I'm hungry," she said, scowling slightly. "Mind if I borrow that book?"
Severus looked at Nike with suspicion, but he said nothing when he got up and strolled to the kitchen. "I teach Potions at Hogwarts. How do you do in Potions?"
"Not bad," shrugged Nike. "I can't say I'm the potion's apprentice or anything like that, but I passed. I prefer Charms."

"Charms," repeated Severus in disgust, pouring a creamy sauce out of the tip of his wand and stirring it to the pot. "Professor Flitwick would be pleased."

"He teaches Charms? Is he nice?"

"Dwarf wizard. You don't see them around a lot anymore -- he's half elf. Head of Ravenclaw--they would be on top every year if it weren't for that bushy-headed Mudblood in Gryffindor."

"Mudblood?" repeated Nike, slightly surprised. "You still do that? You still, I mean--why would you call someone that? Gryffindor is supposed to the brave one and all that right? She can't be bad."

Severus sent a sharp look Nike's way. "Gryffindor's a little joke--if it weren't for the Mudblood, Gryffindor wouldn't be winning any points at all. I personally think Miner--Professor McGonagall gives way too many points to her own house. It's hardly fair."

"What house are you head of?"

"Slytherin," said Severus, with a slightly lighter tone. "Slytherin's the best house. I hope you get in to that."

"Remind me again what values they all represent?"

Severus seemed slightly impatient. "Gryffindor's the brave one. Hufflepuff are old duffers, Ravenclaws are intelligent--Slytherin's ambitious. We've got the best Quidditch team that's for sure -- Gryffindor cheats its way every year," he added sourly.

"Why do you hate Gryffindor so much?" asked Nike in mild indignation. "I'm sure they're not all bad."

"You haven't met them," pointed out Severus.

***

"This is the first time I've seen the castle in July," said Minerva, scanning the castle's clear shape against the sky. "Albus--you've set out the guest list, I expect?"

"Yes, Minerva," said a smiling Albus Dumbledore. He tapped his wand against the castle door, and muttered a series of Latin words. Minerva raised her eyebrows uncertainly, but the castle door swung open before she could've said anything.

"Wow," said Minerva breathlessly, "Good thing you invested on those self-cleaning paints. The castle would've cost Argus five months of grouchiness."

"Since when do you bad-mouth your colleagues?" asked Albus, but he was smiling. They walked silently to his office, where he tapped his wand against the gargoyle, and muttered, "Chocolate raisins."

They took a seat in his office, where the paintings were more excited than ever to see real people. "I met Severus at Diagon Alley," said Minerva. "He had a 15-year-old girl with him -- Albus, surely it's not his daughter?"

"Nike," said Albus, the twinkle in his eyes disappearing. "Nike. I was most surprised when they named her that -- but then Athena explained to me the Greek myths. I didn't need that, but -- I was still surprised."

"Albus, surely you know that it is a dangerous thing for a -- powerful sorcerer like Severus, and a Seer like Athena to have a child? The child will have no control over her powers -- she can destroy the castle without meaning to. Albus, are you absolutely sure that she will have no trouble in her studies and the classroom?"

"I can assure you that the castle will not be blown up," said Albus with slight amusement. "If you are so anxious, Minerva, then I advise you to pay a visit to Severus and his daughter. They live right on the edge of Hogsmeade--a short distance."

"Maybe, Albus. Perhaps we can invite them to them? Ask Severus if he can bring Nike along. She will be of value, I daresay?"

"She is only a child, Minerva." Albus started to stare out of his window with heavy curtains over his eyes, his face expressionless. "Harry has gone through a lot -- I would think that he is ready but Nike..."

"You told me that she's gone through several wizarding and muggle families," Minerva interrupted with a look of concern. "That's a lot to endure. And her mother -- that's still a mystery to her."

"But death," said Albus, with a heavy sigh. "Death, she hasn't experienced that yet. Minerva, I don't want to drag her unwillingly into this, but we can't risk her leaking the information. She may mention it to a classmate -- we can't have that. Her powers -- even if she's not aware of them yet, are deadly. She can fight a curse, easily. How will we know if she's -- willing?"

"I could pay her a visit. You trust my judgement, Albus?"

"Of course," said Albus with a slight smile, his eyes shifting to Minerva. "That's a delightful idea. The meeting starts in two hours -- you should go now, if they're going to be attending. I'll take care of the paperwork."

"I hope it's a wise decision," said Minerva heavily. "I'll fly there."

***

"Ginny, what am I going to do now?" asked a red-eyed Hermione. She was sitting on Ginny's bed, sniffing. Ginny had her arm around her comfortingly.

"Hermione, you know that he's liked you for a year now? I told you last year but you wouldn't believe me. Viktor Krum made him realise it, and now he's just sharing his feelings -- it's just what you want to do now." Ginny thought that she was sounding way too confident for someone who had had her heart broken for nearly three years.

"I know, but I'm so confused. I think I --I think I liked him a little during the Yule Ball, but then he was being such a jerk, and I gave up trying to ask him... I'm not sure if I like him now, I mean. What am I saying? We're friends--"

That lie earned raised eyebrows from Ginny.

"I know, I know. I ran out on him. How am I just supposed to say that I'm sorry for doing that? Oh wait, I'm not supposed to be sorry, he kissed me out of the blue. He's supposed to give signals, isn't he? Shouldn't he have waited to see if I was leaning in, too--"

"Hermione. You're babbling."

"I'm sorry--I'm just so confused. You know what? You just go tell Ron that I'm not talking to him until I get this sorted out in my head. I need some time right now." She glanced briefly out the window, onto the empty backyard with a small smile. "I'm going to read." She grabbed a thick book out of her trunk, and left before Ginny could open her mouth to say anything.

Even though she had stopped crying, Hermione was still sniffing heavily, and tears stained her porcelain-like cheeks. She tried to absorb the material she was reading, attempting to drown her mind in her studies. The book was about advanced spells that combined many subjects; such as Charms that combined materials from Defence Against The Dark Arts, potions that helped to clear an "inner eye", and herbs that helped with Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall had sent her the book while she was in Bulgaria; Hermione had originally requested it a few weeks ago before school ended, but the midst of all the events following the Triwizard Tournament, it was forgotten. She couldn't resist the urge to try start on the Dark Magic charm that would sense dark magic whenever it would be used. It wouldn't count as real magic, so she had a chance to do it in the Burrow, provided that she had all the right ingredients. She didn't know where in Diagon Alley she would've found Diva's Seduction Ring--she had never heard of it before until the book had mentioned it.

She was having trouble absorbing the book, even though she was on a very interesting and exciting part -- how the Dark magic sensors in the Charm would work, and who had originally created the Charm for that purpose. She wiped her face hurriedly, telling her angrily that it was there was no need to cry and she was being overly emotional.

She still had trouble getting something else off her mind -- the kiss. When Ron had grabbed her and kissed her like that, she was so sure that Ron had done it before, at least, because he seemed to know what to do. The thought of Ron with someone like Parvarti or Lavender -- it made Hermione's stomach lurch violently.

He tasted, mainly, of the lemonade--sourly bittersweet. She blushed furiously when she thought more about the kiss, mainly the part where she had pulled away in disgust. The one thing that surprised her the most was that there was a part of her that wanted to do it again.

"Ron must be getting to me," she muttered as she snapped the book shut and headed back for Ginny's room.

***

"Minerva. How nice of you to stop by--I didn't know you still wore those awful spectacles during the summer," greeted Severus coldly. Nike was sitting by the fireplace, reading one of the schoolbooks that she had got at Diagon Alley. She found the Hogwarts courses and teaching methods to be very different than Australia's -- Australian teaching methods tended to be more of writing and understanding the methods before you tried them. Hogwarts methods tended to be trying, and then learning as you went along.

Severus invited Minerva in, not bothering to introduce Nike.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked a smirking Severus, seeing that Minerva's eyes were nervously shifting from Nike, who was wearing a very suspicious look, and Severus.

"Your daughter. You haven't properly introduced her to me."

"Her name is Nike."

"I wanted to talk to you about -- the plan--Severus, your daughter, are you sure she -- is -- trustworthy?"

"You are questioning my daughter's trustworthiness? Minerva, I don't understand you. She is less likely to be a spy for the Dark side than the rest of us put together--if you really are that sceptical, she will leave the room."

Nike scowled slightly at Severus's of way of talking that made her feel as if she weren't there at all. "I'm not spying for the Dark side," she said loudly. Minerva seemed surprised. "I don't have to hear this if you don't want me to."

"Oh no, Nike--this concerns you. I'm sure Severus has already told you about your mother--"

"No, he hasn't. Delight me." Nike put her book away into her schoolbag, and shot a sharp look at a flustered Severus. Even though Severus looked as if he would murder the two of them if Minerva said anything about her mother, he said nothing yet.

"You mother -- Athena, she's a See--"

"Minerva -- I shall tell her when she is ready. Please do not interrupt," snapped Severus suddenly, without warning. His clenched his fist, shaking with anger. He glared at Nike so hard, that there was hardly a moment of hesitation before she got up and walked away.

"Severus -- how do you know if she hasn't inherited it?" asked a concerned Minerva, feeling very tired. "Albus--he thinks she can help. You know that there's a good chance that she may have it. Won't you at least let us test her?"

"She's not a lab rat," hissed Severus through gritted teeth. "She's my daughter. You're not testing her for anything. The meeting is in two hours -- shouldn't you be getting ready with Albus?"

Minerva frowned deeply getting the message that Severus was very touchy on the subject. "He obviously thought this was more important, Severus."

"You shouldn't trust Albus so deeply, Minerva. He has made mistakes. You know that as much as I do. You know about his past."

"I know about your past too, Severus," Minerva shot back. "But you don't see me parading? Look, we've all had our share of mistakes, Albus especially, but we've all learned too, Severus. Nobody's perfect."

"You don't need to give me a lesson in life, Minerva. Save that for your Transfiguration lessons," snapped Severus impatiently, getting up and gritting his wand tightly. "I shall act on Nike as I see fit. Minerva, please leave if there is nothing else."

"You are making a mistake, Severus--you will regret this--you know this. She's dangerous--you're lucky if she doesn't blow up your house right now," Minerva left quickly with a surprising air of humph.

"What does she mean I'm dangerous?" cried Nike, bursting through the door. "What the bloody hell are you all talking about?"

"You weren't supposed to be pressing your ear against the wall, you know," said an annoyed Severus. "I told you to not listen."

"It's not very possible when your walls are so hollow," said Nike sarcastically, her face growing redder by the minute. "I deserve to know my past -- it's been fifteen years. And what did she mean that her business concerned me? Athena -- that's my mother's name, isn't it?"
Severus winced. "She meant dangerous -- as in danger of being locked in a mental facility if you don't start to shut up, Nike. You shouldn't bother yourself with the details of what she said. She's hardly trustworthy."

"I haven't met a single other person since I've arrived here--I think she's more trustworthy that you, Severus." Nike rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips. "I was beginning to think we were living in the middle of nowhere until she came."

"You want to meet people? I'll take you to people. Tomorrow--you are going to meet one of my favourite students. In Slytherin -- Draco Malfoy."

Nike said nothing more, but quickly exited to her bedroom, her face red and her hand clenched in fists.

***

"Draco -- have you actually sunk into the level of Severus Snape? He is a traitor. I warned you all year not to get so involved with him, but now it will be too late. The first person on Lord Voldemort's revenge list is no other than Severus Snape, failed Death Eater."

Lucius Malfoy's voice was an amazingly frozen burst of air. Draco winced every time his father started to lecture, and his voice was so distracting that most of the time it had blocked out what point Lucius was trying to get across.

"Father--it can't hurt. I'm not going to meet him personally -- he wants to introduce me his daughter--Nikki or something." Draco absently fiddled with the drawstrings on his ridiculously childish pyjamas, which were filled with aeroplanes and tigers. "His daughter isn't a failed Death Eater," he added sourly.

"There's only one woman Lord Voldemort thinks is of use to us--and she is nothing more than to get what we want. Women are nothing more than mere objects and things we use to get what we want, Draco. Remember that."

"Ah. I supposed that's a lesson in The Evil Guy's Guide to Life, too?" Draco thought his father was being ridiculously serious -- Lord Voldemort yes, was powerful, but he wasn't as to the point of being a way of life. He tried to convince his father, not getting than a ten-minute lecture and a threat to curse him.

He used to hide in fear of his father, but then he realised, after the Triwizard Tournament that his mother would no sooner kiss a Mudblood than let Lucius harm Malfoy. Lucius didn't know, but Narcissa had placed a Protection Charm on Draco when he was a baby, so as long as Narcissa was alive, Draco would be safe from the harm Lucius couldn't caused him.

Lucius waved his wand threateningly, with an air of insanity as he stood in his expensive pyjamas with little pictures of ribbons and teddy bears on them, waving his wand. Draco would've been on the floor, choking with laughter if he weren't so desperate to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, looking forwards to seeing Severus Snape, the only teacher at Hogwarts that didn't have an unexplainable disliking towards him, and perhaps his daughter too. He amused himself with who Severus might've had a daughter with; he had never mentioned her, but then again Draco and Severus had never been so open when it came to personal history.

"Draco -- have you listened to anything I've said?" asked Lucius abruptly, his lip curling unpleasantly. "I certainly hope you are not this way in your classes. No wonder a Mudblood has beaten you for the last four years -- you don't pay attention and you learn nothing. You can learn a lot of things from listening, Draco, did you know?"

"If I do, I've never learned it from you."

Lucius flicked his wand, and Draco lurched suddenly into the air, above his four-poster bed. He stayed in the air for a few seconds until he fell down with a loud thump onto the carpet. Rubbing his temples in distress, he asked in annoyance, "What was that for?"

"You shall never disobey or challenge one of my orders again, Draco," hissed Lucius. He spun around and Disapparated into his own bedroom, where he smiled at the thought of Narcissa waiting for him on the bed wearing the latest Wizarding Wear Lingerie Collection.

***

Nike was dressed in her old pyjamas, shifting through her covers and finally waking up to the bright moonlight streaming into her room. Severus had continuously refused to give her any more information about her mother--Athena that was her name. Athena Snape--the name sounded strange and foreign.

"Bloody bastard won't tell me who my mother is," she muttered angrily, scrunching her eyes and unconsciously starting to vibrate with anger. The moonlight was fading away quickly, being replaced by rays of sunlight. "I deserve it. And he still won't tell me."

She closed her eyes for a second, imagining what she would do to Severus if she ever had to opportunity and get away with it. All of a sudden, her bed started to vibrate silently, her covers and bedspread starting to fly off.

"Wha-what the hell?" Nike was confused now--splotches of her regular colouring, her thoughts of Severus and her anger fading away. The bed started to slow down its vibrations, and eventually stopped. She looked around in confusion, as if expecting someone that had hexed it, or a monster that had burst through the bed.

She shook her head, breathing slowly, hoping sincerely that she had been hallucinating, or even better, dreaming. She didn't even try to pinch herself to confirm it--after gathering up all her covers and bedspread, she slid into a peaceful, calm sleep.

***

"Severus. I'm glad you came." Albus set down his quill and rubbed his eyes softly, sighing heavily. Only three-quarters of the people invited had managed to come, and some of them were the most vital parts of the plans and assignments he had been working on. "I see you've brought a large batch of Veritaserum."

"Just like you requested, Professor." He nodded dully. "I hate to defy your wishes, Professor, but I will not allow my daughter to be caught in this war. It is far to dangerous for a child such as herself."

"So it's her safety that is the issue. Severus -- why do you always insist on calling me 'professor'? I am older than you but not by such a considerable amount." Albus's eyes were twinkling with amusement.

Severus raised his eyebrows uncertainly. "And what would you say is an 'considerable amount'?"

Albus chuckled softly, his mood surprisingly light for a plan of attack against the most feared sorcerer in the world -- Lord Voldemort. "I would understand if your reason for excluding your daughter in this mission is a matter of safety, but Severus -- if you are only trying to erase your past, it is not a wise decision."

Severus looked at Albus, thinking about the mistakes that Albus had made in his past, and his lips played on an uncertain smirk. It wasn't like him to smirk in front of someone he greatly respected, but he really didn't know what had come over him. Seeing that Albus was looking at him suspiciously, he dropped it.

Albus swept his eyes over the people who were socialising enthusiastically with each other. He cleared his throat, and immediately a hush fell over the crowd. He conjured up chairs in a half-circle, with his desk on the side. "This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix has officially begun." Fawkes the phoenix was staring at each member uncertainly, shuffling his feathers, certainly unaware of the difference he had made to Albus in naming their organisation.

"For security measures, everyone will be given a dose of Veritaserum, and be tested to see if anyone has used Polyjuice Potion to sneak in here. Please, do not be alarmed, this is only a simple security measure that will spare many people's worries." Albus tapped his wand against the cauldron that Severus had brought, and small goblets containing a sourly sweet, yellow substance flew themselves to each member's hand.

Albus began to ask each member quickly if the member were a spy for Lord Voldemort and the True-Forms Potion Severus had added to the potion would've returned someone using Polyjuice Potion to their true form, but fortunately, no one was pretending.

"Please. You have already received your assignments -- as I recall, I visited all of your houses separately and I hope that all of you remember what they are. Some of your assignments are already done -- please report to me right now. Arthur, how about you first?"
"I've already placed all the hexes and curses, exactly as you had directed me to, Albus. I've to practise warding for Harry, since I will be picking him up tomorrow." Arthur Weasley smiled tensely, a little more widely than he had meant to.

"Good, good," said Albus with an extremely delighted smile on his face. "Thank you. Remus--how did your assignment turn out? Negotiations are not a simple task, and I thank you."
"No, you shouldn't thank me," said Remus Lupin wearily. He pulled out a wrinkled sheet of parchment from his robes and read, "The Werewolves Association of Britain will be glad to be of use to the extremely important mission the Order of the Phoenix has. We will be very delighted to join forces, on the grounds that discrimination and all differences are to be put aside." He shrugged and added, "I told them that no one here has ever been of a discriminatory nature to me--" he looked around, and his eyes settled on Snape for a moment, before he continued. "And that they would certainly not be discriminated in any sense."

"Excellent." Dumbledore set a Quick Quotes quill to the piece of parchment, but the quill wasn't the usual green -- it was a baby blue hue. The quill, instead of writing what was happening, wrote down what each person said. Remus handed the piece of parchment over to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore left it on his desk before continuing to ask the next person for their assignment.

"Arabella--I know informing Harry of your witching nature wasn't an easy thing, that's why I must commemorate you--"

"Albus, I didn't tell him about that. It was quite hard talking to him with his very nosy and boring aunt, and I couldn't very well tell him about what I -- am. I'm sorry Albus, I'm sure it would've frightened the Dursleys. The poor Muggle's son turned the table over when he turned around to run away." Arabella stared at Albus with a sad look in her eyes, and sighed wearily. "I just couldn't do it. Arthur -- perhaps you could...?"
Arthur blinked blankly, but a nudge from Mungundus Fletcher made him gasp in surprise, and he smiled weakly. "I'm sure I could just -- casually drop it in, sure Arabella."

Arabella looked at Arthur with a new look of uncertainty, but mentioned nothing nonetheless. "Thank you."

"Sirius Black -- I explained of his innocence last meeting, and I'm sure all of you will not be alarmed of him anymore. He is on still on a mission. After him is -- Percy Weasley. Percy -- after all the tragic events last year, I was surprised you wanted to help. How far are you on persuading Mr. Fudge that Lord Voldemort really has risen?"

Percy winced at the mention of Lord Voldemort, but smiled politely and pulled out thick sheets of parchment, which Albus supposed, was his full report. "Mr. Fudge is fully convinced that we are safe from You-Know--the wizarding terror. I handed him a full report and many persuasive arguments that convinced his secretary that he was back, but he wasn't fully convinced at all. I later tried to make him realise that his niece was taken by Lord Vol-Voldemort -- the one who went missing a week ago? He didn't believe me, and seemed to be convinced that you had something to do with it." Percy coughed uncomfortably, handing Albus the whole stack of papers.

"Very -- detailed, Percy. Wow, this is more than I expected." Percy smiled widely at how pleased Albus seemed, and his mood seemed lighter. He sat up straighter, straightened his glasses.

"Thank you, sir."

"Goodness, I feel like a professor again--let's see, yes, that's right, those are all the assignments I'm expecting today. Let's see, yes, Mungundus, how is your assignment doing so far?"

"Very, very well, Albus. It's progressing much sooner than I expected." Mungundus smiled sheepishly, blushing slightly at the sight of all the eyes on him.

Snape snickered silently, having to go to the school with someone that had eerily reminded him of Neville Longbottom. He had simply come to the meeting just because he was invited, and his mission was so private that Albus hadn't mentioned it to anyone else. Well, no one would know each other's missions, since he had added a drop of amnesiac that would erase their memories of which assignment was whose, in case they got captured and was tortured to tell the truth.

***

"Wake up. You wanted to see a person; you're meeting Draco Malfoy. I'm giving you half an hour to get ready--we're meeting at the Hogsmeade pub. Get up already, will you?" Severus's annoyed voice was the first thing Nike woke up to. She fluttered her eyes open, to meet the cold eyes of Severus's.

"Alright, alright. I'm getting up. Will you please leave?" snapped Nike impatiently, pulling out one of the new robes Severus had unwillingly purchased for her, one of the latest styles with 3/4^th sleeves and a light pastel shade.

Severus didn't say a thing when he spun around and left, slamming her door shut with a loud bang. Nike made a face, and quickly changed.

"You woke up too late. You're not getting any breakfast." The truth was that Severus had ran out of the magical Mrs. Crocker's Pancake Mix--he didn't know any other breakfast foods that could be made as easily as the pancakes. He felt his own stomach rumble in frustration, and massaged it gently.

Nike's eyes shifted suspiciously to Severus, and then to the kitchen. "Draco -- please don't tell me he's like you."

Severus almost smiled. "You'll be hugely disappointed. I told him that he would show you around Hogsmeade. He's very popular around Hogwarts."

"I'm sure," she mumbled. Severus handed her the cloak, and they started out miserably on foot. Severus wrinkled his nose at Hogsmeade's rural areas, crowded with poor families selling their potions and such. Nike gazed around curiously, vaguely aware at the looks that villagers gave her-- the looks that clearly said, "you're one of the who look down on us. How dare you come to watch us suffer?"

Severus swept through the markets quickly, and they arrived at the edge of the shop alley of Hogsmeade. "Can we stop at Honeyduke's?" asked Nike breathlessly, gazing at the amazing array of appetising sweets at the shop window.

"We're meeting him at the pub." Severus and Nike finally arrived at a solitary looking pub, the smell of Butterbeers drifting out of the door periodically. The people in there were merrily chatting, the bartender expertly mixing drinks at the back.

"Draco." A thin boy sitting in the shadows turned around, his silvery white blonde hair contrasting sharply with the shadows.

"Professor Snape. This is your--daughter?" Draco sniffed uncertainly, examining Nike from head to toe, from her thick wavy auburn hair and haunting emerald eyes, framed by thick lashes melodramatically. "She has your--type of hair," he said finally.

"This is Nike." Severus literally pushed Nike over to Draco's table, pushing against her to sit down. "Nike, I'll meet you here in the afternoon. I trust you two will get along. Draco... nice seeing you." He nodded swiftly to Draco's direction, and left Draco and Nike in a very awkward position.

"Snape named you after American trainers?" Draco snickered, after taking a slow sip of his thick Butterbeer.

"No, my mother named me after the Greek goddess of victory." Nike could've smiled at the thought of finally knowing something about her mother, but something about the ice behind Draco made her feel very uncomfortable. "Can I have an iced cocoa, please?" The waiter rolled his eyes impatiently, and signalled the bartender, who conjured several pre-made iced cocoa from the pub's back supply, and the waiter summoned it to Draco and Nike's table.

"You don't seem like the Butterbeer type," observed Nike softly, trying to smile.

"You don't know me."

"You look like a more--Firewhisky type."

"I would be if Madame Rosmerta hadn't decided to label me as severely underage." Draco had to smile. Rarely had people spoke so boldly in his presence, especially not Crabbe and Goyle. They just normally believed in whatever Draco did--he was pretty sure that he had almost convinced them that Professor Snape would certainly not mind if they went into class in their teddy bear pyjamas.

"Firewhisky makes your breath extremely disgusting--," said Nike, wincing as she remembered how her first foster wizarding father had tried to lie and say that he really wasn't at the village's most sleazy bar, trying to pick up women.

"I'm used to it. Crabbe and Goyle refuse to brush their teeth unless I remind them." Draco answered coolly.

"My father told me that you're very -- popular around Hogwarts." The sentence had almost been a question, but Nike decided that she really didn't need to be someone' s sidekick in Hogwarts.

"You might call it that. Some people are just afraid of me, I suppose."

"Afraid of you?"

"Afraid that I'll hex them."

"Should I be scared?"

"Not at all. You're Professor Snape's daughter--he would kill me."

***

"Harry Potter's at Hogwarts?" asked Nike with mild surprise. Severus had never mentioned Harry Potter before, and Nike, knowing Severus's intentions, was almost sure that he would've mentioned it with great pride. But he hadn't mentioned a word.

"He's not like the world thinks he is," said Draco, nodding. "The world thinks that he is a great role-model for all those little wizards out there, but he breaks more rules than all the Slytherins put together, and he's so boastful that they almost kicked him off the team."

"Team?"

"Quidditch team," answered Draco impatiently. "He's a real jerk, basically."

"Really. My father's never mentioned him before," wondered Nike with slight curiosity. "I wonder why."

"Your father's not so fond of Potter himself, Nike," said Draco, smirking unpleasantly. "He's the only teacher that treats Potter like what he deserves to be treated as--a good-for nothing piece of--"
"As much as I agree with you, Mr. Malfoy, my daughter and I must leave now." A surly looking Severus was standing behind them eerily, and Draco spun around in surprise. "No need to be surprised. I told you I would be back at this time."

"Severus." Nike scanned Severus uncertainly, and bit her lip.

Draco shot up his eyebrows in surprise--hardly anyone he knew had ever called Professor Snape by his first name. Nike moved slowly towards Severus, uncertainly, as if he was out to hurt her.

"Bye, Draco." Nike said in a small voice, her lips making a small attempt to smile weakly. "I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts, then?"

"I hope you get in Slytherin. It would be such a shame if a person like you were to be placed in Gryffindor." Draco hesitated a while before adding quickly, "That's the closest thing to a compliment you're ever going to get out of me."

"Goodbye, Draco. Tell your father I said hello." Severus placed a firm hand on Nike's shoulders, turning her around and muttering silently under his breath. Nike's stomach sunk heavily, gazing up intently at Severus's face.

Severus frowned heavily. "I see you have made friends with him."

"I don't want to get in Slytherin."

"Your only choice to be superior -- you throw it away." Severus shook his head disapprovingly, and his grip on Nike's shoulder was so tight he was literally squeezing it.

Nike shrugged his hand off, and replied, her lips pursed. "I'll get in whatever house I want."

"Your choice. Why should I care?"