The Erlking

SECOND CHAPTER

(Severus)

Children lying in their bed.

Just remember what your mother said.

Don't you worry, don't you cry.

Little black flowers grow in the sky.

In the sky.

Make a promise, cross your heart.

King's vow that we'll never part.

Sign in blood and hope to die.

Little black flowers grow in the sky.

In the sky.

-- Chris Isaak

The heavy load on my back wasn't exactly a help to keep my balance when the train took the first bend. I practically flew backwards, eliciting a rough curse from someone who had been walking right behind me.

"That's how it works, mate," a voice stated. "The train's moving, not the station." Laughter rose promptly.

I thought I was going to hate this idiot for the rest of my life.

Without turning around and curse him as he deserved it (and as we used to resolve such conflicts in Knockturn Alley), I made my way through the train in search of a free sitting place--although a lot more carefully so then before. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to one of the compartments.

While it wasn't empty, it wasn't exactly full either. Two boys and a girl who were sitting in three different corners of the cushions looked up when I came in. I felt a tad more self-conscious in view of them. Obviously, they were first-years as well, and therefore strangers.

"Hello," I said, trying to socialize. "May I sit down?"

The boys avoided my gaze, but the girl faintly smiled at me and nodded. After loading my sea-sack--very, very carefully--into the luggage rack, I occupied the fourth corner next to her.

It was very quiet in our compartment, and since I had gotten up abnormally early, I started to feel sleepy after a while, just sitting there and listening to the train noises and the voices outside on the corridor. More out of boredom and in try to keep myself awake, I began watching my fellows.

Two of them--the girl and the boy sitting opposite to her--were red-heads, but with two very different shades of red. Hers was dark, his very light. Compared to those fire-heads, the small boy seemed even more pale and mousy than he was anyway. He, too, was trying to inconspicuously check out the rest of our group. When his gaze crossed mine, he hastily went back to staring out of the window, biting his thumb nail.

I tried to imagine myself, what I looked like sitting together with them--and failed. So, here I was. I hadn't caused any catastrophes yet. But somehow, it seemed difficult to picture myself as part of the Hogwarts student population. I knew Alastor had spent a good deal of time worrying about how I would do at school. He'd never been quite good at hiding his thoughts from me.

Incredible, I thought, how he had freaked out this morning about some books I had already read quite awhile ago. In his place, I probably just would have sneered at my ward and insinuated that he wouldn't understand them anyway. I didn't, as a matter of fact--not all of them, at least--but I'd rather have choked than admitted this. I was used to reading stuff that wasn't considered appropriate for my age, and it would do no harm to me.

I was just thinking if me grabbing something to read would be considered impolite (and if so, if I cared) when we were joined by some more of our year-mates.

We heard them before we actually saw them. There were steps coming closer on the corridor and a girl asked, "You sure we're not supposed to wait for Narcissa?"

"Well, I don't plan on hanging around with your sisters the whole train ride. Life's too short to spend it in limbo, if you know what I mean. Let's go in there."

"Fine," the female voice sighed. "If they come after us in a few minutes, foaming at the mouth and dragging us back to the prefects' compartment, we'll know that I was right." And she opened the door.

You can walk into a room--and you can enter a room. The latter is what these two children did--as if they owned the place. With quick, curious gazes, they claimed their new playground. There wasn't much more we could do than remain silent from the shock of this concentrated self-confidence. I instantly took them for siblings, as they looked very much alike with their shiny, black hair and light eyes, their high cheekbones and tall, slender figures.

"Hullo," the boy said and took a seat next to me, while the girl dropped herself onto the opposite cushion. From the corridor a very gentle voice rang out, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

The girl turned around to her companion without a word, but whatever her look said, he stood up, sighing, and went over to buy her some sweets. She smiled in satisfaction, then turned her attention on us. "So--what houses do you think you will be in?"

There was no introducing herself, only this question, but she surely touched a nerve in more than one of us. Without waiting for a reply, she went on, "My mother told me I'd surely be sorted into Slytherin, because that's where left-handers almost always land. But I believe she just said that for me not to worry."

"I'm left-handed, too," the red-headed girl stated. She obviously felt comfortable with a conversation going on--she just hadn't wanted to be the one who started it.

"Same here." I had spoken quietly, but of course, it happened what always happened when I tried to appear shy and not to draw any attention on me--everyone suddenly looked at me. I dropped my gaze.

"Curious, isn't it? So many left-handers in a single compartment," the black-haired girl said. "Anyway, I don't know if that's enough to get to Slytherin, it's rather selective about its students. But I'm a bit under pressure there, you see. All my family's been in Slytherin: my parents, my grandparents. My sisters are. They'll tease me to no end if I don't make it."

The red-headed girl eyed her even more curious after that. "Your sisters go to school here as well? You're lucky. It must be great to have them showing you everything. My sister wouldn't even believe a wizarding school existed when I got my letter."

It had been the wrong thing to say, and realization dawned on her freckled features, even if she didn't know what had just happened.

"So you're a Mudblood?" The black-haired boy had returned, but made no move to take his place again--as if contemplating if he could lower himself to sit down next to a Muggle-born. He helped himself to a Chocolate Frog, then tossed the rest of the sweets in the black-haired girl's lap. "Well, no fat chance about Slytherin, then. They only accept real wizarding folk there."

"Shut it, Sirius," the girl addressed him. "Of course there are Mudbloods in Slytherin." She, too, didn't even bother to look at the red-head while speaking. And something told me she didn't object out of kindness rather than to outsmart the boy. But, obviously, the red-head's limit of tolerance was overstepped hereby.

"I don't know yet, if I want to be in your Slytherin at all. And my name is Evans, actually. Not Mudblood," she said without blinking. "Lily Evans."

I doubted she had ever heard the term before, but she could easily guess that "Mudblood" meant nothing complimentary. Her eyes searched for ours, provoking us to look into her face and deny her our respect. None of us except for the black-haired girl who leaned her head backwards against the cushions and watched her opponent out of half-closed eyes with a fine smirk was able to hold her gaze.

Several awkward seconds passed and nobody replied, until suddenly the mousy boy blurted out, "Peter Pettigrew."

The beam on Evans's face was positively touching. I had to choke back a laugh when they exchanged a handshake. Idiots, I thought. Without thinking, he had answered to the call of something that I couldn't name, but instinctively dismissed. And his outburst was all it had taken to reassure the little Mudblood again.

The black-haired girl reached for her sweets and tossed a Chocolate Frog at me and the red-haired boy who had been silent through the conversation. "My name is Bellatrix Black," she said. Nodding towards the black-haired boy, she continued, "That's my cousin Sirius." She smirked at us, as if parodying the heartfelt smile of Lily Evans. "And you are?"

"My name's Avery," the red-head answered with a thin, high-pitched voice, unwrapping his frog.

"Severus Snape."

We had passed the test, that much was obvious. Peter Pettigrew came away empty-handed and I was rather stunned. Where did people--children--learn to take on the world with this superior attitude? In Knockturn Alley, we all had our little tricks and finesses that helped us to deal with the adults and avoid being mistreated. Yet, my own manipulating abilities fell short from this girl's cunning, calculating ways. Never before had I seen someone judge his or her fellows like this--by coming off as a scared first-year, she had coaxed us into telling her about our heritage.

I wondered how she of all people could worry about not getting into Slytherin. To me, she seemed the embodiment of everything I had read about the house's members. But then I inwardly shook my head at my own naivety--she'd never had any doubt. It had been all an act.

I caught myself staring at her when she did, and cleared my throat awkwardly. "Not related to Elladora Black somehow, are you?"

A smile crept onto her face. "My mother."

"Is she?"

"Yes," she answered proudly.

I stared even more fascinated. "It's just... I've recently read The Development of the Unforgivable Curses."

"I see." Well, I couldn't expect her to openly praise the study that had landed her mother before Wizengamot Court in 1958. I wondered what it was like to grew up with a scholar of the Dark Arts as a mother, and if Bellatrix had ever read one of Mrs. Black's books.

Sirius Black, who was still leaning in the doorway, looked down on his cousin. "It's boring here," he told her. "I'm off to see how the land lies." He most certainly expected her to join him, but her attention was fixed on me. She nodded absent-mindedly and he left with a shrug.

Bellatrix looked at me in thought. "And where apart from Black Manor would people keep copies of my mother's book?"

"Knockturn Alley." It was there and then that I decided that I would never deny my origins. Under no circumstances.

I was perfectly aware of who the Blacks were--one of the oldest, richest and most well-respected families of the pureblood aristocracy. To be a Black practically meant to be above the law, as Alastor never grew tired of lamenting about. "Bad blood," he had said once. "Rotten to the core, the whole lot of them." But I had always thought that one could be unluckier than with coming from one of the finest magical dynasties, and for a moment, I pondered what standing in Bellatrix's shoes would be like. I bet she never had set foot onto the dirty pavements of Knockturn Alley.

But Bellatrix didn't mock me. Instead, she narrowed her eyes as if something in her memory had been stirred. Whatever thought she had, it was never outspoken, for suddenly raised voices rang out an the corridor. A boy laughed nastily and there was a flash of light followed by some heavy noise. We exchanged looks and rose from our seats.

So I would finally get some action, I thought. I would have been surprised if Alastor would have been proven right and the Hogwarts students really were ever so peace-liking and dull as he had described them. Outside, a crowd of people--including Sirius--already had formed around what actually seemed to be an attempt on a duel. Although, from what it looked like, it had been interrupted.

A skinny boy with unruly black hair stood there with his wand raised and his back to us. He was breathing heavily, and from the state of the sleeve of his sweater, his opponent seemed to have used a Stinging Hex.

She had wavy, chin-length hair of a dark golden brown. Several strains had escaped from the small ponytail she had tied it up to. At the moment, she was held tightly in the grip of a slender, blonde boy whose brown eyes were anxiously flickering between her and the skinny one. From the effort of bringing his friend under control, his face showed the same angry red spots as hers.

"Like father, like daughter," the skinny one sneered, and I instantly recognised the voice of the big mouth who had earlier that day kindly pointed out to me the basics of train journeys. "The violent streak must run in the family."

"Just shut it, git-face!" the blonde boy answered, having trouble preventing his friend from murdering the skinny one on the spot. She was struggling more violently to break free. Her eyes were huge and beyond livid in her heart-shaped face.

"Don't you dare insult my family, Potter!" she spat through clenched teeth.

I literally felt my jaw drop. Having once recognised him, I couldn't understand how I had overlooked it before. Actually, that crappy hair of his standing in all possible directions wasn't easily to mistake. Neither were his stupid glasses and Muggle clothes.

Dammit, I had completely forgotten about the pathetic moron starting Hogwarts this year as well. Should I go and hang myself now or after the Sorting?

"I'll talk about your family exactly the way I want to, Wilkes!" James shot back. It was hard to tell who was more furious. Did he have feuds going on with every decent fellow that crossed his path? Probably so. Turning away from Wilkes, as if the matter was settled once and for all time, his gaze fell on me. A truly happy smirk appeared on his face.

"I see, Snivellus Snape's here. You're in good company there, Wilkes. One disgrace to the name of wizard will probably stick to the other."

I had my wand out before he could even blink.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

He hit the ground. It was my turn to smirk, and I did so considerably. Inwardly I rolled my eyes. He really should have known better by now than commenting on things he didn't understand.

Bellatrix, who was standing next to me, looked at me with sparkling eyes. Sirius whistled and said, "Nice spellwork ... Snivellus."

I knew perfectly well that he was aware of my actual name and it made my temper rise all the more. "Say that again and you join him," I hissed.

"Would someone bother telling me what's going on?" a melodious female voice broke into my thoughts. A girl about fifteen with golden hair twisted up into a knot at the back of her head made her way through the crowd. There was a green and silver prefect's badge on her robe. I was relieved to see the Slytherin colours. A Slytherin prefect wasn't very likely to jump on me because of a little spell, I felt.

"Nothing extraordinary, Narcissa," Bellatrix said quickly. "Potter was being a prick as usual. He was insulting Wilkes, so Severus cursed him." That had not been the reason, but I thought it better not to interfere.

Narcissa looked at me, then took her wand out and pointed it at Potter. "Finite Incantatum!" When she saw he was all right, she held out her hand and helped him to his feet. He stood on slightly shaky legs and shot a murderous glance at me.

He could crawl back to the troglodytes of Godric's Hollow that had raised him, for all I cared, but I had this unnerving suspicion that Alastor wouldn't approve of how I had introduced myself to this corridor full of future school-mates. The looks directed at me weren't exactly delighted either. It occurred to me that the full-body-bind probably wasn't taught in first year. What do you want? Not everyone can have a sheltered upbringing.

Luckily, Narcissa held someone else responsible for the trouble. She bowed down and grabbed Wilkes by her delicate shoulders. "Florence Wilkes, how many times do I have to tell you--"

"So it's my fault!" Wilkes blurted out. "The self-righteous git comes here and--"

"Speaks the truth about you going the same way as your father," James completed the sentence.

"Drop dead, Potter!"

They went for their wands again. Bellatrix's sister looked like throwing herself between them in a fit of desperation to force them apart.

"Everything under control, Narcissa?" The three of them spun around at the sound of a cool, drawling voice. Narcissa's male reflection was standing there: light blond hair, grey eyes and a Slytherin badge on his chest. His cool eyes lingered on Potter when he pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb.

"You've had enough adventures for a single day, Potter. Shove off before I feel tempted to give you your first detention." For a moment James seemed to consider the fame of being given his first detention while still on the train--he opened his mouth as if to defy, but knuckled under just as I had expected him to. The blonde one turned around to the crowd. "And by the way, what are you gaping at? Everyone get their robes and their luggage. We'll reach Hogsmeade station in a few minutes."

It wasn't until then that I realized that had I never before managed to keep my attention focused on people for such a long time. However great the temptation to grab a book and make myself invisible had been, I hadn't given in to it. I was rather satisfied with myself.

"Do you think mediating between first-years asks too much of me, Malfoy?" I heard Narcissa ask icily when the crowd dispersed.

"I was only trying to help. You're still a novice in dealing with responsibility."

With the sea-sack on my back, I watched the buildings of Hogsmeade appear behind the train windows. It was raining again when we got out, but none of us seemed to feel the wetness when were seated into little boats that carried us over the lake. With the wind and the rain in our faces, the lights illuminating the castle shone all the more brightly, revealing most of the towers and buildings at least as silhouettes.

It was simply the most beautiful sight that had ever come to my eyes, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

~

I had already known what awaited us. Alastor had told me. While reading Hogwarts: A History, I had consulted him and his first-hand information on countless times, but he was and always had been unpredictable in such matters. Sometimes he would tell me enough to write my own book about the issue that interested me, and sometimes he would keep as silent as if about some kind of state secret. You could never be certain. But I had known what was going to happen when I had entered the Great Hall alongside the other first years.

"Well -"

Just say Slytherin, thank you and goodbye.

A soft chuckle answered me. "Patience isn't our biggest strength, is it, Mr. Snape? That certainly counts Hufflepuff out. Lets see..."

I sighed. I had watched Bellatrix Black raising her delicately shaped eyebrows while coaxing her heart's desire out of the Sorting Hat, and Sirius Black failing where she had succeeded easily. Peter Pettigrew and the red-haired Mudblood had joined him at the Gryffindor table, where he sinisterly stared holes into the surface, ignoring the looks his cousins sent him from the Slytherin table as well as he could. Obviously, the right pedigree and the natural presumption of being destined for the Serpent House weren't enough. It really depended on the character traits.

"Hmm, I see," the Sorting Hat studied me. "You do look like someone who will achieve something in this world. There's a lot of courage here, and daring. Never afraid of taking a risk, are you? I see thirst of knowledge, attraction to secrets. And my, you do have will-force. Yes--there almost are no lengths you wouldn't go to have your way. You're the calculating type, Mr. Snape. Always want to be in control, have the upper hand, don't you? What does that tell us?"

What? I all but snapped.

"You've got a Gryffindor heart and a Slytherin mind, Mr. Snape."

Better than the other way round, I stated dryly.

The Sorting Hat laughed. "You remind me of your mother, Mr. Snape. She was exactly like this at your age." My stomach did a little jolt at this remark. No one had ever talked about me being similar to my parents--and in a tone that suggested me being happy and proud about it. To be perfectly honest, no one had ever talked to me about them at all. How do you know--

"And just like her," the hat interrupted me, "you're a firm believer that you'd never choose your heart over your mind, Mr. Snape. SLYTHERIN!"

Conversation was over, it seemed. I had done it. I had entered the house of my choice. I felt relieved, proud, satisfied, disappointed and curious all at once, and didn't know what to make of it. Of one thing, however, I was sure. The Sorting Hat had just given me a very important information on my mother that Alastor had kept from me. She had been in Slytherin. Taking my place under the green and silver flags suddenly felt like coming home.

Bellatrix Black was sitting a few places further along the table, next to the Avery boy, but I thought it better not to address her. She seemed to take the disgrace her cousin had brought about her rather badly. I noticed her elder sisters at the head of the table every once in a while throwing worried looks at her.

Florence Wilkes--the girl that had duelled Potter on the train--was the last one to be sorted and practically threw herself into the arms of Evan Rosier when she was made one of us. They took their seats just opposite of me and I heard Florence confessing to Evan that she was a bit worried about what her family would have to say about her getting Sorted into Slytherin. "I wish I had parents like yours."

"Sure," Evan said. "My father's worse than dead and my mother--she'll only allow me everything, because she doesn't give a damn about what I'm doing."

"At least they won't bully you into a writing career so you can uphold the family tradition and publish a bloody newspaper."

"Simply because we own no such thing. Oh yes," he snorted. "We're everyone's favourite charity case, aren't we?"

I kept my eyes on my plate, desperately hoping to have gotten it all wrong. Evan Rosier. I knew that name, and judging from what I had overheard of their small talk, there was no possibility of a mistake. What Evan had said about his father was nothing new to me--the man responsible for this happening had told me himself about this case of his.

I winced by the thought of Evan or somebody else finding out that he had to share a house with Alastor Moody's ward. I had liked the both of them at once. Florence had stood up so fiercely against Potter when he had insulted her family (and I knew exactly what it was like), and Evan would not leave her side, no matter what. I had never seen a friendship like this.

When Florence extended a hand to me across the table with the words, "I believe I didn't even say thank you yet," after dinner, I wanted nothing more than to be part of it. I was unsure of what to do. I had never before tried to win someone's friendship. It occurred to me that there were many things that could go wrong with it. But I felt that throwing a curse at Potter probably had been a good start.

"I'm glad I didn't have to do it myself," Evan confided to me when we followed Narcissa Black, who turned out to be the fifth year prefect, to the Slytherin common room. I looked at him. "Florence can get rather passionate at times."

"Passionate? How would you react on that moneybag's brat polluting the air you breathe?"

"Potter's father and Florence's dad have some differences," Evan explained.

"Understatement of the century," Florence murmured.

"Mr. Wilkes thinks Mr. Potter's a jerk."

"He is," I said in confirmation, thinking of my own experiences with the troglodytes. Florence sent a triumphant look at Evan. With the greatest spontaneity, they took their places on either side of me in the common room, where Narcissa Black elaborated us on the meaning of being a true Slytherin.

"You need patience, courage and prudence to achieve your aims," Bellatrix's sister said. "You were not placed here because you lack any of these gifts in comparison to the members of the other houses, but because you and you alone know best what to make of them. Never forget, Slytherin is a challenge. You will never know where your borders lie--what you're able to and capable of--if you're not willing to overstep them." She paused.

"Don't expect the other houses to rejoice. They cannot understand Slytherin, and our ways frighten them. The members of every single house in this school think they alone can lecture the rest of us on the proper destiny of a wizard, especially the Gryffindors. They whole-heartedly believe in their petty, narrow-minded rules,

because it makes them who they are. And this makes us--what they are not."

She looked at us with a solemn seriousness. "Regard being here as a great honour."

Everyone did. I could tell so from the thrilled look Florence and Evan exchanged, from Bellatrix's frown finally disappearing from her face and from Malfoy's fine knowing smile. The informal part of the evening started and it lasted until very late or very early the other day.

At about two o'clock in the morning, only six of us were left, all first-years and too excited to sleep: Florence, Evan, me, Bellatrix, the Avery fellow and a dark-haired boy with deep-set eyes called Lestrange. Lestrange's first name turned out to be Rodolphus, but Avery at first refused to repeat his given name for us as he thought it was awful.

Bellatrix, however, wouldn't let him get away with this. "Come on," she coaxed. "My own flesh and blood just got Sorted into Gryffindor! I'll never, ever recover from this stroke. Do you honestly think anything else can shock me anymore?"

Rodolphus leaned forward in his armchair. "I suggest we trade, then. Shame against shame, disgrace against disgrace." He smiled. "Everyone will confess a dark secret of his and the others solemnly swear to keep and see over it. D'accord?"

I felt heat rising into my cheeks. Could he possibly know? No, I decided, but still felt like throwing myself at his feet in gratitude. This idea could save my beginning friendship with Evan. Something told me I had to spill the beans on our first day, or he would never talk to me again once he found out.

"I'll go on," Rodolphus said, "since Bellatrix already named her disgrace. When I was little, I wanted a sister instead of a brother so desperately that I tried to poison Rabastan. Somewhere I'd heard that a overdose of parsley would do, but it didn't work out when I force-fed it to him."

Bellatrix and Florence giggled. "Okay." The latter shrugged and poured out, "My family's as good as bankrupt because Nathaniel Potter's going to court against my father and the Prophet. My father libelled him, he says."

"My father was given the Dementor's Kiss when I was five," Evan stated simply. Somewhere, I thought, we had left the plain embarrassments and had moved on to real tragedies.

It took all my courage to speak it out loud--in a room full of children of parents who hadn't any reason at all to be fond of the one's alike Alastor. I directly looked at Evan and said, "Alastor Moody has been my legal guardian since I was six years old." His brown eyes were absolutely unfathomable, but they never left mine.

I could have sworn they all understood what was going on. Evan hadn't named any of the Aurors who had arrested his father and I hadn't told about Alastor being one of them--but they had figured it out by themselves. I felt very much calmer than I had all day. I knew I could do this--leave my stigma behind and belong to my House, to them. They weren't going to shun me.

"Very well then," Avery said into the silence. He took a deep breath, theatratically rolling his eyes. "I'll hex you... if you ever try to call me... Innocentius."

Dead silence. We were all thinking the same thing: we had spilled our matters of importance, none of them good-natured--to be rewarded with innocence. A disaster of a name for a Slytherin.

"The oath," Florence reminded us before any of us could come up with something stupid to say and held out her hand. We put ours atop. Evan's came to lie on mine. For a moment, our eyes met again and he gave me a brief nod.

"Secrets kept," Rodolphus said.

"And overseen," Bellatrix added. She turned to me. "You know, I already wanted to ask you on the train. Your father's Alexander Snape, isn't he? The alchemist?"

I nodded, twisting under the curious glances.

"That means, we're related!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "Through Phineas Nigellus, my great-great-grandfather. He was headmaster of this school from 1821 to 1858. Come on!" she laughed when she saw my startled face. "You must know of that!"

I thought of how I earlier the day had wished to be part of her world and decided I had to look up the Snapes in Nature's Nobility, the Who's Who of pureblooded wizarding families.

My thoughts drifted away. Sitting there among my fellow Slytherins, I still couldn't wrap my exhausted brain around the many impressions I had gotten on my first day. I couldn't help thinking that my life had taken an important turn. They knew my name. The Sorting Hat had spoken to me about my mother and Bellatrix Black had heard of my father.

I felt like writing a long letter to Alastor and tell him every single detail, including my Gryffindor heart, the borders to overstep and the secrets to share. But finally, I only wrote two sentences on the parchment I wanted to sent home with a school owl in the morning.

Still alive. Made Slytherin.

~

(Alphard)

"What is it?" I asked warily when I came down from the observatory and encountered Elladora. Like some people have a sense for sudden changes in the weather, I had one for sudden changes in my relatives' moods. I had no choice after all, living at Grimmauld Place with my elder brother and his wife for the greater part of fifteen years. I had found that it was better to be prepared for the worst at any time.

My sister-in-law's regular fits had the annoying habit of sweeping through the house like waves of anger and hysterics until they finally reached me even up there in my refuge under the roof, troubling my careful astronomic concepts and calculations. And they kept getting worse with her age marching on, and more violent. There had been collateral damage among the house elves more than once.

Right now, I knew something had occurred when I saw my other sister-in-law standing in front of me, her frail fingers intertwined above her chest. Elladora, too, suffered from Olive hitting the roof on the slightest occasion. It was the reason why she didn't come here very often but preferred to stay at Black Manor. I had a vague suspicion what could have caused the latest eruption. The children should have sent letters about their first day by now.

"It's the boy," Elladora said, and I felt my shoulders crumble. "He got Sorted into Gryffindor."

"W-what?" Oh, Sirius. "Where have you been?" I asked as I couldn't think of anything better.

"Downstairs," she answered calmly. "It was rather awful. I think, she'll need her potion, but the house-elves are to scared to come near her right now."

"That's not what I meant," I said awkwardly. "Where were you before? You haven't slept here tonight."

"No, I have not."

Malfoy Manor. I had no doubt about it. Last evening, Tristan Malfoy had sent a mysterious letter that had had Elladora nearly laughing and crying at once during the few seconds I had come to watch her unguarded face.

"What was this about?"

"You'll learn," she promised. "Very soon."

She truly had amazing eyes, I thought, when she looked at me. A mixture of grey, green and blue with tiny amber-coloured coronas around the pupils--hardly ever visible from under her heavy eye-lids. With a fine smile, she brought her fingertips to my cheek. I relished in the tender gesture, knowing it was symbolizing the calm before the storm.