"Not another one of you? What is it with tonight and breaking curfew?" a Ravenclaw prefect groaned, moving to intercept Oleandra as he caught sight of her running down the stairs. "Stop right there!"
Oleandra ignored the prefect's order and brushed past him, dodging his outstretched fingers.
"Oi, watch where you're going!" the prefect snapped, gripping the stair railing to steady himself after nearly being bowled over. "I'm reporting you to your Head of House… whoever you are!"
To his astonishment, the small girl's form flickered, stretching and filling out into a much taller version of herself. Oleandra's Glamour had broken, revealing her true form to the world!
"Magic in the corridors!" he howled. "Get back here, you—!"
The prefect's voice faltered, his face blanching as he watched the girl vault over the railing and plunge into the void below. Was she mad? They were on the third floor! Could she really be that desperate to avoid detention?
He rushed to the ledge, muttering a Slowing Charm— but when he peered over the railing, there was no body in sight. He stared, dumbstruck. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered if the long nights of patrolling the corridors and the lack of sleep had finally caught up with him… perhaps he was just seeing things.
…
Oleandra abandoned all pretence of stealth as she hurtled through the air, plummeting from the third floor towards the ground. She pulled up at the last second, veered through a series of sharp turns, and slammed open the doors leading outside with a flying kick.
She shot across the suspension bridge and into the Quad Courtyard, booted open another set of doors leading back indoors, and plunged down the Grand Staircase, dodging the magical shifting steps as they scrambled to catch her, mistaking her flight for her falling to her death.
Her mad flight carried her through the dungeons at breakneck speed, until she finally skidded to a halt before the twin stone snakes guarding the Slytherin common room. It was only then that Oleandra realised— the password she knew had long since expired.
She drew her wand, readying a Reductor Curse— but just as she was about to try and vaporise the door, the twin snakes uncoiled from one another, silently revealing the entrance to the common room.
"Took you long enough," said Theo nonchalantly. "I've been waiting for half an hour."
"Thanks," Oleandra mouthed as she ran past him.
Oleandra tore across the common room, jumped down the stairs to the girls' quarters, ran through the familiar corridors. Her eyes lit up with recognition as she found her old room, and with trembling hands, she pulled open the door.
There she was, curled up in a ball in her bed.
Completely ignoring Mafalda, Oleandra tiptoed over to Tracey's bed. She froze, her hand hovering above Tracey's thin shoulders, just as she was about to wake her. Tracey's pillow was stained with tears, and she was trembling slightly in her sleep.
Oleandra's mind went blank, the lines she had rehearsed so many times in the distant past suddenly evaporating from her lips. What was she supposed to say to her? What if she hadn't received her letter? What if she had moved on?
"It's me, Tracey," Oleandra whispered. "I know it's been a long time, but I'm here now."
Tracey stirred in her sleep.
"I know I haven't been the best girlfriend," she said quietly. "I've kept secrets. And because of me, you're going to die in a few minutes."
Remembering the fake Malfoy's words, Oleandra snuck over to Daphne's bedside table and checked her drawers. She understood now why Daphne had got rid of all her fresh mistletoe— she must somehow have been affected by her would-be parasite. But Daphne had possessed so much mistletoe that some of it must have escaped the purge and got lost in her belongings…
"Accio mistletoe," Oleandra chanted under her breath.
A dried garland shot out from beneath Daphne's mattress, and Oleandra caught it deftly. Holding the tangled mess of withered vines, she couldn't help but grow misty-eyed. There had been mistletoe everywhere when she and Tracey had shared their first kiss beneath the moonlit sky among the Fairy Lights, two years ago. Daphne had used the very same plant to help Harry slay the Basilisk, too.
And now, it was going to help save Tracey's life.
Oleandra checked her watch. It was now nearly midnight, and in a few minutes, the Aesir would attempt to descend into the bodies of the branded. The runes in her own soul had subtly changed, marking her as a true heir to star magic, so she wouldn't have to worry about being possessed again.
"Ugh…"
Tracey began to moan, tossing and turning in her sleep. Oleandra rushed to her side and gently placed the dried mistletoe garland on her head— and as swiftly as the discomfort had come, it vanished.
"Oleandra?" Tracey murmured, opening her bleary eyes. "Is that you…?"
Oleandra's vision blurred. She wiped her face with her sleeve, finding it damp with warm tears.
"Go back to sleep," Oleandra whispered softly, casting a Sleeping Charm. "Soon, you'll wake up to find it was all just a bad dream…"
Tracey's eyelids fluttered shut. Oleandra leaned in and pressed her lips to her cheek.
"I would like nothing more than to take you with me," she whispered, her own tears dripping down onto Tracey's cheek. "But you shouldn't have to pay for my mistakes. You deserve better than that, Tracey Davis."
Oleandra rubbed her eyes.
"I love you," she whispered in Tracey's ear, her lips grazing hers with the faintest touch, before rising to her feet with renewed resolve.
Oleandra's eyes had gone dry. She had no more tears left to shed.
In her desperation to save Tracey from possession, she had incriminated herself in the eyes of her friends and allies. To them, she was the inhuman monster who repaid kindness and understanding with evil, killing Dumbledore for her own selfish ends.
To drag Tracey along as she waged her battle to unravel all the world held dear, upending the Statute of Secrecy to restore magic to Britain and reclaim Avalon, would bring her nothing but suffering.
Because Oleandra Greengrass was the Dark Lady.