26

Chapter 26: Tea Leaves and Bad Mail Service

Severus was fuming. Brew this! Brew that! Salazar! He was just a simple person! Couldn't Dumbledore just admit his old age and buy anonymously from the pharmacy in Hogsmeade? Couldn't Voldemort kidnap some potion maker in America and have them help in his regeneration?

To put it lightly, Snape was in a pretty foul mood. But most of all, he was upset because he would now have to write to Altair, report to him like some dog, reporting to a third master, asking if it is okay to give Albus a memory potion, if it won't interfere with the plans Altair had laid out...and then if it wasn't? He would have to fake it, of course, and then what? Be suspected of treason? Get carted off to Azkaban, no thank you! And to bother the Malfoys about the vault? Albus just didn't know about timing. The Malfoys were newly inducted! To do this so soon, was like asking them to be suicide bombers on their first and last mission. If Voldemort learned...well, that was the end of them, the end of Draco too.

Severus summoned a piece of parchment and a quill before furiously writing down his thoughts.

"A.

The headmaster has asked me to brew him a memory potion.—"

And this was when a most peculiar owl came rapping at his door. Still bitter, he thrust his hand out, using wandless magic to let in the poor owl. The bird flew in, hooting angrily, but on its leg it held a letter. Severus frowned. It was entirely too late for any mail...he tore it open, thanked the owl with a thrown frog leg, and settled down to read.

"Severus,

I realize I had acted rudely when I turned you out of my house the other day. However, I had something extremely pressing to which I had to attend. To answer some lingering questions, please do not concern yourself with any memory charms I may have used on the headmaster. If you knew, you would understand. I think time has been good to him-he's grown wiser. If my memory charms begin to fray, don't worry. They're actually timed to disintegrate. The memory charms have served their place and if he wishes a memory potion or the like, do not hesitate to aid him. The storm is fast approaching, or so I've heard.

I know it doesn't hearten you to hear this but I actually need your help to accomplish a plan I have long had in action. There is a book I want you to read. I've preordered it for you at Hogsmeade, the receipt is enclosed in the envelope. When you do receive the book, I highly suggest you start reading chapter 7. Do not be upset with me. It was a risk, I know, but the alternative was much worse.

Perhaps, to make it up to you, I'll take you out to lunch sometime in July? How is that?

All my best,

Altair"

.oOo.

A few weak strands of light illuminated the silent corridor. The floor was made of slick black tiles, the walls were dark...it smelled of stale air and silent whispers.

Nagini quite liked this place. She tasted the air once more, trying to determine which way to lead her Master's followers. They tailed her clumsily—they being Bellatrix Lestrange and that Barty fellow—as she slithered silently along. Sharply, she turned left and was able to see a shape disrupting the pattern of shadows on the wall. Ah, yes! Nagini darted forward, fairly gliding along the polished floor. From behind, she heard the two Death Eaters advance. Her mouth began to fill with saliva. There would be food tonight.

"MOODY!" a woman whispered.

And then the hall erupted in light and chaos.

Nagini darted this way and that as the humans distracted each other. Curses ricocheted a good ten minutes, there was a sound of snapping bones.

"Diffindo!" someone shouted, and as blood made the floor slippery beneath her scales, Nagini was able to strike.

.oOo.

Hogwarts had never been good at keeping DADA teachers. The Prophet was never good at keeping secrets. As the rumors flew, all Albus could do to keep from cringing was think about how lucky they had been not to lose Alastor Moody.

The plan discussed over the summer had been loosely started. To entice the Dark Lord to want to hear the prophecy for himself, Albus had to make it seem worth going after. By stationing guards at the Ministry and being seen in public having lunch with Sybill Trelawney, talking of prophecies and the like, he hoped to arouse some curiosity. However, there was a darker reason for Albus to see the prophecy: He wanted to know if he knew it, as well. The wordings of these things were so tricky, that if he misremembered a single line or stanza, there was bound to be trouble.

Ordinarily he would consult his pensieve, for that would surely be untampered with. But more and more was he beginning to suspect a third party interference. Who was it that put the vial, currently around his neck, in the Sorting hat? Who was it that had the access? The power? The respect? If they could do that, then what would stop them from manipulating his memories?

Still, the mission to kill Voldemort wasn't any less prominent. Luring him to the Ministry was still top priority. After all, if they killed him, why would he need to know what the prophecy said anyway? Last night, after the feast, had been Moody's turn to guard the door. Not to raise suspicion as much as it was to scout out the situation. He learned that they had improved the security over the years, having developed a spinning door mechanism enhanced with a unique blend of confundus and compulsion spells to trap the intruder. But it came at a price. For whatever reason, Voldemort was a bit more on edge than normal, which was to be expected. He still didn't have a body yet, according to Severus. The Tom Riddle Albus knew certainly wouldn't want to start at a disadvantage. If he knew the Order was snooping around the Department of Mysteries, then of course it was only prudent to send in a small scouting team. And then of course, Death Eaters, being as unpredictable as they were, the scouting mission turned into more of a homicide trip...

Amelia Bones had died in the hall, throat sliced open with a cutting spell. It was messy, gruesome. Not the Dark Lord's style at all, unless it was to send a message. Amelia's throat was hardly the only thing damaged. Her lungs were crushed, arms mangled. It seemed that the escaped Bellatrix Lestrange had returned to work with all of her earlier finesse.

As if this wasn't enough, Moody had returned with a rather large gash in his leg, claiming that Voldemort's familiar, Nagini, had bitten him. Now this intrigued Albus because if Nagini was a horcrux, then Voldemort certainly wasn't keeping her under a very tight leash. (Well, unless Bellatrix could be considered 'responsible.') If Nagini's life wasn't a concern right now, then perhaps...Oh, Merlin!

The remaining horcuxes were probably the most well protected, best hidden objects in the world...Albus sighed. If the cup and locket were in the Black vaults somewhere, then where would the diadem be? And how could he get close to the snake? And then...was there truly a seventh?

.oOo.

While Albus was musing, Minerva was frowning. How could Albus keep putting people in danger like this? Susan Bones had left school, possibly to never return again! To think, to Albus they were pawns! To people, they were family. She sighed heavily. Well, at least Alastor made it out alive. She couldn't say she particularly liked his rough antics, but he certainly had earned her respect. He was an able man, even in his old age. Still, that didn't give Albus the right to send him straight into danger! It was hard to ignore the broad white bandages on his thigh. Everywhere she could hear the rumors swirling. Of Moody battling a great cobra. Of Moody close to death in the Ministry. They all figured he was off on Auror business, which he was of course, except they didn't know that the man behind all this suffering was sitting at the center of this staff table, chewing thoughtfully on a lemon drop. One day she swore she was going to incinerate him!

.oOo.

As the rest of the Great Hall exploded over the shocking Daily Prophet article, the Slytherin table looked quite glum. Draco was silent as he picked at his food, stabbing things unnecessarily before taking a swig of pumpkin juice. Hasan bit his lip. Across from them were Daphne and Tracey, wondering what was wrong with them.

"Isn't this so weird? Wasn't Moody here yesterday?" Daphne asked presently. She intended to liven up the table, but only succeeded in eliciting a shrug. "Oh come on, what's gotten into you? Have you gotten into a spat over something?"

Hasan looked up at her dully and forced a smile on his face. "Nothing is wrong." he said convincingly, but inside he was exhausted. Though he slept all night, it was as if he hadn't slept. And he had the most unusual dream too. He was so upset as he dragged himself down to breakfast that he hadn't had a chance to peak at the Daily Prophet yet. It was garbage, of course, but it was good to know what the general public knew. "What was that article about again?"

Tracey sighed, "Really Hasan? We've been here for thirty minutes and you haven't heard?"

"I bet Draco hasn't either." Hasan pointed out, nodding towards his dull friend.

"You've got to be deaf not to." Draco drawled, shaking himself from his reverie. He turned to Hasan slowly, with some obvious reluctance. "And I'm not mad at you either, it's just...sorry, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Good thing we have Divination first." Daphne laughed. "You can sleep right through that."

"So what is the article about?" Hasan pressed, curious now.

"Do you know about the Department of Mysteries?" Draco asked him. Hasan didn't, but he assumed it was something 'mysterious' in the Ministry of Magic. "Well, Mad-Eye Moody was attacked down there last night and Amelia Bones died."

Hasan glanced at the staff table to find that indeed there was a large white bandage on the auror's thigh.

"They say Death Eaters were behind it." Tracey added in a whisper. "So I'd be careful if I were you in DADA today. I heard Moody's got a grudge against the Slytherins as big as Snape's against the Gryffindors. Especially now."

Daphne laughed in her sleeve. "I rather doubt that. He's a respected auror, isn't he?"

"Yeah, before he was attacked." Tracey groaned. "But what was he doing down there anyway?"

Before anyone could respond, there was a bright ringing in the hall- the sound of a spoon tapping against a glass. They all looked up to see the headmaster standing before the podium in light blue robes.

"Good morning!" he said with little more than a quirk of his lips. "As many of you have no doubt heard, one of our staff has indeed been attacked."-his voice, thought Hasan, was exhausted and irritated,-"Thankfully, Professor Moody has escaped with only a scrape and will be able to teach his first day here! In light of this event, I believe we should continue the Dueling Club to ensure our students are prepared for the hard times ahead. This year Professor Flitwick and Professor Moody will take the reigns as your instructors as Professor Lupin and Professor Snape have other obligations. Meeting times will be on the bulletins by the end of the day. Thank you. And remember to enjoy your first day back at Hogwarts!"

With that, the headmaster whirled around with his robes behind him, and the bell rung for class.

.oOo.

"I knew that Malfoy was bad for us!" Ron Weasley shouted as he, Hermione, Luna, and Neville trudged down to Divination.

"It could just be a coincidence!" Hermione hissed in a low whisper. "And I don't think you should be talking about this here!"

Ron just shrugged. "Neville, what do you think? Bellatrix is Lucius' sister-in-law! He could've just owled her our whole plans!"

"Ronald! Quiet!" Hermione urged again, as they were attracting a few stares.

Just then, the Slytherins came down the corridor-the only corridor, mind you- leading to the trapdoor.

"So why couldn't you sleep last night?" Tracey was asking Draco.

"I don't know. I was just thinking a lot." Draco said tiredly.

Before Hermione could stop him, Ron was going in.

"What? Up contacting your aunt?" Ron snarled, taking a step forward.

Draco looked bewildered. It was way too early in the morning to be fighting with the Gryffindors.

"Ron! That's highly irrational!" Hermione said, tugging on his arm. "How was he supposed to know—" Then she stopped herself. Luckily, Draco didn't seem notice. But Hasan did. Know what? What did they know that the general public didn't? Something wasn't right here.

Hasan watched the Gryffindors, the way they stared at Ron curiously, waiting for a fight. Hermione seemed stricken, Neville looked pale, and Luna?

"Hello Hasan!" Luna smiled happily, somewhere from his left. He spun around, startled, to find the girl softly giggling at him. Even in her uniform she managed to look...unique with a giant white bow in her hair that looked more like a pair of wings.

"Hello Luna." he said, trying to lock his thoughts away for later. Then something occurred to him: "Wait, aren't you a second year?"

"Mmmhmm!" Luna beamed. "Flitwick signed my form to be in Divination since I dropped Care of Magical Creatures. Why would you want to care for creatures anyway? They can care for themselves! That's why they're magical!"

Hasan couldn't help but crack a grin at this logic.

.oOo.

"—okay! Okay, Hermione! I get it, geez!" Ron was whining as he massaged his arm.

Hermione raised her chin. "You better have."

At that moment, the trapdoor came swinging open, releasing a cloud of fog and the smell of incense. There was an immediate bout of coughs, but Hasan needn't have worried because Luna had clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, as well as her own.

"Greetings!" the stringy woman said, blinking behind large circular glasses. "I am Professor Trelwaney and this is Divination!" The fog receded and she thrust out a dramatic arm towards the trapdoor. A stepladder came tumbling down, hitting the floor with a clatter. "Follow me!"

With gusto, the seer crawled back up the opening on a ladder which creaked beneath her weight. Hermione eyed the ladder apprehensively but she was the first to follow. By the time the entire class had made it into the painfully tacky classroom, Trelawney had finished setting up the last of the teacups and had started to take roll. After everyone was marked present, except for Susan Bones which made several people uncomfortable, the mystic turned to face them.

"First, we will begin by looking into our cups! Empty, right? Now watch me and I'll show you what to do."

Hasan was seated at a small table with Luna across from him. On his right, there was a table with Draco and Daphne, Neville and Ron, and Tracey and Hermione. They watched the beetle-eyed woman scoop a pair of tea leaves into her cup and mash them with a crystal pestle. With a flourish, she poured steeping hot water from her wand into the cup, watching in amazement as the tea leaves floated to the surface.

"And now, I will drink!" she announced gulping down the tea with both hands wrapped around it. "Before it is nearly empty, give it three good swirls! One! Two! Three! Thinking of what is foremost in your mind. Then say the spell: 'exaresco' to dry your leaves! Then"-and here she fumbled with her wand and a giant textbook on the ground, as if not knowing to put one down,-"take out the chart in your Divination Texts and try to define as many symbols as possible! For instance...I've got a flag! Which means danger! Oh! No! No! No! It cannot be!"- she held her head in her hands-"One of you will die at the end of the year! YOU!"-and she pointed up randomly, to land on Hermione Granger. "Now you try!"

Well that was as enticing as it got, Draco thought glumly.

"Wait, what?" Hermione screeched. "I'm going to die and that is all you can say?"

The woman blinked behind her glasses. "I do not lie. I am a seer! You, my child, have little time left in this world."

"WHAT?" Hermione repeated. "You pointed randomly! It could have landing on anyone!"

"But it landed on you." the seer said with a mystic expression. "You can choose not to believe in my powers, but I still have them. I sensed as you entered the room that perhaps you did not have the- er- same spiritual connection that I do."

"This is all nonsense!" Hermione cried, standing up. "You can't just declare someone's death like that!"

"Then perhaps I was mistaken," she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders, "though I doubt it. Maybe I pointed to that young man-" She glanced down at her roll call. "-Draco Malfoy. Now look what you have done! You have brought doom upon his head as well!"

The entire bizarreness of the situation would have been funny if she weren't so agonizingly serious.

"Urgh!" Hermione growled. "This is a fool's class! Maybe I don't have your sight, but at least I know when I'm wasting my time. I'm done with this!"

The girl strode over to the trapdoor, opened it, and plunged right through without a ladder.

There was a snap. The class was silent, the teacher in quiet lamentation. Theo rose from his seat and took off towards the opening.

"You're a sick woman!" he shouted, before carefully lowering himself to the ground.

More silence reigned, so that if Hasan strained his ears, he could hear Theo's soft voice comforting her down the corridor.

Back in the classroom, Sybill cocked her head.

"Ooooooh! Didn't you say she was in danger!" Lavender Brown yelled out.

"Yes, indeed I did, Miss Brown." Trelawney smiled triumphantly. "Yes I did. Now let's begin!"

.oOo.

Hermione didn't know what was in worse condition: her ego or her ankle. It had snapped beneath her as she tumbled to the floor, too caught up in her emotions to realize the obvious danger. How could that vile woman go around condemning people like that? Didn't she know about psychology and the self-fulfilling prophecy? Of course something was going to happen if you were on the lookout for it!

The pain was unimaginable. It wasn't that it was the most painful thing in the world as much as it was the most painful thing she had ever experienced. What was she going to do now? Levitate through the halls? She inched towards the wall, trying not to move her foot too much. Luckily, she didn't have to wait long before she heard voices above her. And just as quickly, there was Theo lowering himself to the ground beside her.

"That was uncalled for." Theo said softly. "Trelawney's known for being a little off her rocker, but still. Here, let's get you up." He wrapped a supportive arm around her side, hoisting her up so that she leaned on him. Both their hearts were pounding in unison, although it was really quite unromantic.

"It hurts." Hermione groaned.

"Shh, shh. It's okay. We'll get you down to Madame Pomfrey, okay?"

She nodded shakily.

Fifteen minutes of hopping about later, without having seen a soul, they ran very unexpectedly into Professor Dumbledore. He saw them and his ice blue eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Er, Professor!" Hermione stammered, trying to distance herself from Theo without falling down.

Dumbledore looked them over before smiling. "Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Nott. What happened?"

"I fell." Hermione ground out.

"We're headed to Madame Pomfrey's right now." Theo added.

"Good, good." he said absently, stroking his beard. "Perhaps a pain relieving potion then?" And just like that, he had reached into his robes and proffered them a little vial. Hermione gulped it down, eager to be rid of the pain. Relief washed over her, and she smiled up gratefully.

"Thanks Professor!" she beamed, nearly putting her foot down in its state of numbness.

"Ahh, I wouldn't do that." Dumbledore said. "Maybe Mr. Nott can miss a few more minutes to continue walking you down?"

Theo nodded determinedly.

"And Mr. Nott?" Albus asked, handing him a thin envelope. "Could you please pass this on to Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes, of course." Theo said, "Thanks Professor."

Albus Dumbledore watched them hobble away, too grateful to be suspicious of anything. He wouldn't want the entire school to know that he was giving Mr. Longbottom private lessons after all...

Theo met no one on his way back except for a stony faced Snape. Even though he was a Slytherin, Theo didn't need to be yelled at this early in the morning. He tried to keep to the wall as much as possible, though the man didn't seem to even notice him. As he ran back to class, he hoped that there was nothing terribly important he had missed.

.oOo.

Remus Lupin had a break the first period. Actually, Sirius was teaching his class as it was a few days after the full moon and Lupin was a bit sick...but details, details. He turned his attention towards the Daily Prophet, wondering how they knew all that they did. How did they know the name of Voldemort's familiar? How did they know that it was a cutting curse and not a blasting one? Or simply a muggle knife?

Was there one among their number? Of course there was.

The real question was: Why was Dumbledore so reckless? He knew the plan. They were baiting Voldemort, but it looked as if the game was up. The Dark Lord could go to the Ministry at any time and simply seize the damn prophecy! Well, not without alarms, but clearly the security in the Ministry wasn't that tight.

He sighed. Dumbledore had a lot of ambitious plans this year. Each full moon would not only be his transformation, but it would also be recruiting days. Days in which Remus would go strolling down to the friendliest of werewolf packs and try to sway their allegiance. He shuddered. How was this going to help them at all? What could Albus offer them? Equality? No. And with a simple bite to the neck, the Alpha of any one of them could die, and all their hard work would be lost.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed the rapping at his window.

What? Lupin leapt off the couch and peered outside before opening the latch. A cute little black owl hopped inside, a letter twice the size of it dangling from its feet. It looked familiar, but where had he seen it? The owlery, perhaps, but he couldn't be sure. It was rather unusual. He carefully undid the string, relieving the creature of its burden, wondering all the while what it could be. As soon as he had done this, the owl hooted and then went zipping back out, its job done.

Remus frowned as he unfurled the envelope.

"Sirius Black"

Like a child, he glanced at the door, then back outside where he could see the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid's hut if he squinted. Yes, Sirius was still out there, teaching about Hippogriffs. It wouldn't hurt would it? Just a peak? They were engaged after all, and they weren't expecting anything in the mail. Besides, Sirius was a cleared convict. He had no friends. Who would write to him? He weighed the paper, determining it to be pretty expensive. And the ink! The script! It was clearly from an old pureblood family. Looking at the door once more, he sniffed it, hoping to pick something up, but nothing.

He tore it open.

"Sirius,

I am glad they have finally freed you so that I may write to you. I have little family left. I am old. And yet, there is so much work to be done. I am writing today because I have a need of two family heirlooms which I believe rightfully belong to me. It is difficult to trace the family tree, even if it has been carefully pruned, but you may ask Gringott's to send you a copy of the will.

Let me be frank, I ask for the mirrors. You see, I will be gone for a while and have use of them to contact several good friends of mine. Please send them as soon as possible as I am not sure when I'll be leaving. Simply call the owl called Raven and she'll know what to do.

Best of Luck,

Altair Dean Castell

P.S. Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you all the best.

.oOo.

Remus stared at the paper for a good ten minutes. What in the world did he just read? By the tone of the message, Lupin would hazard a guess that this was some distant relative on the expansive family of Black. But that wasn't what interested him. No. It was the name: Altair Castell.

Perhaps if Snape hadn't shown interest in Hasan last year, he wouldn't have even noticed, but the fact remained: this was a family that warranted suspicion. After all, what child's boggart was Harry Potter? If the letter was true, then that would mean that Hasan was related to Sirius! Yeah, like all the pureblood families...Remus walked slowly towards the couch and sank back down.

It was a simple letter really. It wasn't as if Sirius was keeping secrets from him, right? Besides, he seemed friendly enough. He knew that Sirius was engaged! And, wait, he knew that Sirius, out of the entire family of Black, had the mirrors which James and Sirius had used during detention. But no one knew about them! Maybe he had looked them up at Gringott's? But there weren't any tracking charms on them—they were family heirlooms with ancient charms. They didn't need to be kept track of.

So then...how? A man named Castell. Related to Sirius. With knowledge only one who once met them would know...and then had sent the letter rater purposefully while Remus was not supposed to be in the school? Something wasn't right, and Remus was going to figure out what it was, hopefully before Sirius found out and did something rash...

Glancing at the clock, he had about an hour before Sirius' next class was finished. Enough time to floo to Grimmauld, check the family tree, and come back. He peeked out the window with a nervous excitement, before grabbing a dash of powder and shouting into the flames.

.oOo.

Hasan stared down at his teacup with a delicate frown on his face. His brown hair fell into his dull jade eyes as he tried to make out what his tea leaves said about him. It was most peculiar. There was a single mass of tea leaves, strewn together in a semi ring about the bottom.

Snake.

A shudder ran through him as his dream suddenly resurfaced. It didn't make any logical sense, but for some reason, he couldn't let it go. In it, he was a snake, or rather, he saw what the snake saw, and if it was the same snake...then he must have been Nagini. The sixth, Hasan remembered. But just like last time, it hadn't seemed like a dream. In fact, he knew it wasn't. But the alternative was too horrible to imagine. If he was the snake, then he was the one to bite Moody, the one to attack Amelia Bones before Bellatrix sliced her head off...

Hasan turned his eyes away from the cup, sickened to the pit of his stomach. He had murdered someone. Two people, if that old man was to be counted. But this too was irrational. Just as irrational as the snake showing up bold and full, in his teacup.

"Er, I' going to the loo." Hasan said hastily, placing his cup down a little too fast to be called natural.

Luna stared after him with a serene expression on her face. It was obvious something was bothering him, but for now, all Luna could do was give him space. At least, that was what she determined from her teacup. Tea leaves could tell a lot, she thought. Perhaps they would show her something about Hasan?

When the boy didn't return for many minutes, Luna couldn't take it anymore. She discreetly snatched his cup from the other side and gasped.

How odd: a horseshoe.

.oOo.

Hasan was terrified. What could that mean for him? That he was going to keep attacking people? That people shouldn't trust him because he was lying to them all? Attacking people in his sleep? Life would be so much simpler if he had someone he could talk to. But there wasn't anyone!

Altair? Luna? Even Snape. His life boiled down to half formed relationships and several hidden personas. How much longer before he cracked? When Lucius' memories would pour over into his? When Voldemort would finally gain possession of his mind?

He ran down the hall, not caring if anyone, ghost or portrait, saw him acting as if the very ground he walked on was in flames. Finally he had reached somewhere near the Hospital Wing, as it was also somewhere near the bathrooms. He had determined to just walk to the loo, splash water on his face, and leave. But then something interesting happened. He saw Snape run!

Oh, he was dignified and terrifying while doing it, but it was so odd that Hasan couldn't help but be intrigued. The man was headed towards the Hospital Wing. It wouldn't be any extra effort to lie and say he was there to see Hermione, would it? His head still pounded, but he needed to do something to get his mind off of the snake. Off of his dreams. With a steady resolve, he started towards the infirmary.

.oOo.

Severus Snape was having a very bad day. It didn't start off this way, no, but then a small little owl was tapping at his door...Raven (he sneered the name). Right. As enlightening as it was to learn Altair's secret life, he was still an idiot. What part of being discreet didn't he understand? He was a dead man for Salazar's sake! He couldn't be pulling stunts like this, contacting Severus, a Death Eater in the public eye!

There were two things strapped to the bird. A letter and a most interesting looking box. He made to grab the letter, but the little black owl bit him on the finger, hard enough to draw blood. Salazar, could he not catch a break? With a sigh, he untied the little box and immediately, the bird took flight. But what about the letter? Where was it going? He ran to the window, watching as the puny creature zoomed to a nearby office. And not just any office: The Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

Severus sighed. Well, there was no way he was going to involve Sirius in this secret. Let Altair do what he wanted. It was his arse on the line. Turning his attention back towards the box, he wondered what could be inside. The outside was plain looking—worn black leather with a thin silver rim. The top was impressed with the message: Just in case things don't go as planned. Well that was bloody useful! Severus scoffed, attempting to pry it open, but surprisingly the little thing didn't budge!

"Alohomora!"

Nothing.

Dammit!

After going through his repertoire of semi-dark spells, he started delving into the dark arts. But after several minutes of trying to open what was probably a worthless trinket case, he finally gave up. He was about to sit down in frustration when, without warning, his fireplace roared to life.

"Severus!" Poppy called urgently from the flames. "I need a pain relieving potion! One that isn't strong enough to knock out an adult hippogriff, thank you! And fast!"

Severus leapt out of his seat. What the hell had happened? It was way too early in the school year for them to start killing themselves! Children, he muttered. Summoning a few stoppered flasks of the foul smelling potion, he made his way towards the hospital wing. He saw no one but Theodore Nott as he walked, which was good, because he didn't have time to deduct points at the moment, and he certainly didn't want his reputation ruined if he let someone go. And indeed it would have been a nice leisurely walk had it not been for the searing pain in his arm...

"Fuck," he muttered. To hell with dignity! He started running the last stretch towards the infirmary, ignoring the jolts of pain in his arm. The bastard was just going to have to wait. And with that, Severus picked up the pace.

oOo.

"Ah, Severus!" Madame Pomfrey smiled, turning around. As she saw him, her eyes hardened. "He's calling you, isn't he?" she asked. No need to ask who He was. She saw it in the way his hands shook, in the way his eyes seemed to darken with storm clouds.

"I need to leave." he said shortly.

She licked her lips nervously. "I could have summoned them. I didn't know." she said as he transfigured his Death Eater's robes and mask.

He shook his head. "It was while I was walking. There was nothing I could do." Which was true enough. The anti-apparition wards were lifted in the infirmary for times when Severus left the meetings a little worse for wear.

It was as he was fastening his cloak that he realized that the impertinent know-it-all, Hermione Granger, was on the bed, seemingly knocked out. What was wrong with him? When had he been so indiscreet?

"There's no one who can hear us." Poppy said as if reading his thoughts. "Now go." Seemingly alone, Poppy sighed. "I wish he wouldn't do that."

There was silence as Hasan leaned against the wall, letting the information sink in. Severus Snape was a Death Eater. Yes, but he knew this already, didn't he? It shouldn't have been a surprise. But it worried him. Hadn't he just seen what the Death Eaters were capable of first hand? What if the snake attacked Severus next? What if the Dark Lord attacked Severus next?

When he felt he had stood outside long enough, he slowly made his way back to class, only to have the bell ring for second period. Perhaps DADA would liven the mood...

.oOo.

Draco was in a bad mood. Not only had his teacup prophesized some great impending doom, but he was now walking to Defense Class. With Moody. With the man who was flay him alive! As his stomach twisted itself in knots, he got a pretty good feeling of how the Gryffindors felt in Snape's presence.

"Excited?" Theo asked shakily.

Draco shrugged. "As ever."

Somewhere down the hall, Hasan had joined up with them with a pensive look on his face.

"Where were you?" Neville asked him.

"Loo," he mumbled, but Draco would have bet anything he was lying. "Do you know much about Alastor Moody?" Hasan asked presently.

"Oh, well, he..." Neville started. "I mean, he put a lot of Death Eaters behind bars. Like Bellatrix Lestrange." he finished offhandedly.

"Your aunt, right?" Hasan asked Draco, remembering the crazy woman from his vision.

Draco nodded. "I barely know her though." he answered tonelessly, so it was impossible to tell whether he was happy or not about this fact. Hasan would venture to guess happy. Seeing Bellatrix trapped in Azkaban and then again last night, there was no other conclusion to be made except that she was a totally deranged witch.

Neville, so used to putting up a hardened front, couldn't help the shudder that ran through him. Hasan filed this away for later pondering as the door suddenly burst open.

"ENTER!" a gruff voice commanded them. Everyone looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Hasan shrugged. With a wary eye, he entered the darkened classroom. There was nothing striking at first, but then a sound at his right caught his attention. Without time to react, his reflexes took over.

"PROTEGO!" Hasan yelled, thrusting out a hand. The power behind his shield blasted several desks and chairs back into the wall, but not the lone man, standing wand outstretched to his right. This man, with his spasmodic electric blue eye was grinning.

"Bravo." he smiled. "Constant vigilance! Alright, in, in! What's your name, young man?"

Hasan regarded this man warily as the rest of the class poked their heads inside. They gasped as they took in the destruction, looking between the auror and the quiet Slytherin.

"Hasan Castell." he answered softly, trying to conceal his reluctance. Even though everyone else had overlooked the fact he shared the surname of a long dead Death Eater, there was no telling what this top auror had heard or not.

"Castell?" Moody repeated tightly. "I can't say I've heard that name very recently."

"Je suis de France." he said hastily, not needing someone else on his case.

The professor nodded. "So you are..."

By this time, the class had trickled in, each staring at the clustered desks in wonder. With a sweep of his hand, Moody had set the desks and chairs to rights, before walking purposely to the front of the room. He took role quickly, constantly pacing before a veiled table. When he was finished, he turned to the class and flicked his wand in the blink of an eye.

BOOM!

Nothing in particular exploded, causing several people to fall over in their seats.

"As you have already seen," he entered into his lecture smoothly, as if no great thing had just happened, "constant vigilance is the rule of this classroom. You can't let your guard down even for a second! Longbottom!" he barked.

The boy gulped before controlling his face. "Yes, sir?"

"You of all people should know what happens when constant vigilance is not met. I believe your parents, both formidable aurors, had three days to leave their dwelling, and yet they did not, causing them to die at the hand of the Dark Lord."

People gasped at the nonchalant way Moody was unveiling his past, wondering if perhaps the Longbottoms hadn't had it coming to them. Everyone knew that if the Dark Lord was after you, you got the hell away from him.

"The Dark Lord didn't kill them." Neville interrupted him in a strong voice. "The Dark Lord was hiding like the coward he was. He sent his Death Eaters to do the job for him."

Moody grinned. "Did he now? Then I assume you know what spells they used to do the job." With a twitch of his mouth he asked the class: "Who here knows of the unforgiveables?"

Hasan knew, but obviously he wasn't about to jump up and beg to answer. For one thing, it was a little eerie how much this man knew about the Longbottoms. Was he there? Who could say? Because the truth was that Harry was the one to stop the Dark Lord...he never stopped to think about Neville as a legitimate target. The other reason he didn't answer was that he already performed a wandless shield charm faster than a celebrated auror. He really didn't need suspicion coming his way. So he just sat there, wondering who would answer.

"If only Hermione were here." Theo whispered teasingly.

Hasan tilted his head to consider him. Hadn't Nott come from a Dark family too? Wait, wasn't the whole Slytherin House full of Death Eater spawn? No wonder no one was answering. With the future still unstable, no one needed to be labeled loyal to one side or the other.

"No one?" Moody repeated. "Not even you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Everyone turned to watch Draco in the back of the room shake his head.

"Come now. We don't need to keep up this pretense." Moody told them calmly as his magical eye whizzed around. "Knowledge is nothing to be ashamed of. Especially in a classroom, safe under Dumbledore's watchful eye."

Finally, Pansy raised her hand. "I think we've all heard of the Killing Curse, professor."

The man's aged face seemed to light up. "Ah! Wonderful contribution Miss Parkinson. But although it's an unforgivable, it isn't necessarily Dark—"

"What do you mean?" Lavender interrupted stupidly. "It kills! Obviously it's dark magic!"

"Miss Brown, I believe?" Moody asked. "Can you describe exactly the effects of the Avada Kedavra?"

The girl swallowed. "I—Well the person dies. He has no time to run or shield himself! It's not a fair fight!"

"Thank you Miss Brown. Now who would like to explain the effects of a common fourth year spell, incendio? Perhaps Miss Greengrass can enlighten us?"

"It conjures fire, sir."

"And what do you suppose would happen to a body under incendio? Do you think it would be very painful? What about the cutting charm? Diffindo? I am simply trying to make the point that not everything is black and white. Yes, Mr. Castell?"

Hasan was very well aware of the famed philosophical grey area, but clearly there was a reason why some spells were banned.

"Professor Moody, with all due respect, can't you shield any one of those spells? The Killing curse goes through all shields, all wards, and all ancient protections. I don't think we can disregard that. That's the difference between Dark and Light, whether it's morally fair, and the mass majority dictates the standards."

The class processed this for a minute. Even Draco had perked up and was paying full attention now.

"Well-reasoned, Mr. Castell." Moody finally said. "But I think you misunderstood the point. I am not trying to justify the Dark Arts, and yes, I admit they are dark. I only wish to point out that the Light isn't as pure as they make themselves out to be. We use what we must. But since you seem to be so knowledgeable, perhaps you can tell us the name of another unforgiveable?"

"The Cruciatus," Hasan said without hesitation. From out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neville shudder very slightly. Even if he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, maybe he had his own personal story? Hasan hadn't questioned it before, but now he was sure there was something more to him.

"The Cruciatous curse is the torturer's friend. It causes an illusion of hot, sharp knives gnawing, biting, stabbing, and slicing into your flesh. It gives no reprieve, and often cannot be shielding against once starting to an overshot nervous system. And finally, perhaps Mr. Malfoy? The final unforgiveable if you please?"

"Imperius." he whispered.

"Louder, if you please?"

"Imperius." Draco repeated, stronger this time. "It allows another to dictate your will. Like a voice in the back of your mind. The victim has no control, even if they know what's happening."

"Very much like your parents?" Moody prodded maliciously. "Yes, the claims upon claims of the imperius curse."

Draco gave him a steely glare.

"Professor?" Neville piped up. "How can we defend against them if we can't cast protego?"

"That, Mr. Longbottom, is exactly why you're here." His magical eye swept the crowd before his mouth split into a smile. "The only way to protect against these spells is to experience them and learn how to combat them. One more question before we start today's demonstration: What do you propose I have concealed beneath this cloth?"

And at that moment, they saw it thrashing.